street art, Naples, Italy
The most difficult thing about making art is the need to deal with our ever-present in-studio critic. When creating anything, we’re often plagued with doubts, fears, and concerns about how it will all end up. So when we finish a project and feel love for our drawing or novel or newly painted living room, it almost feels like a miracle, or at least a rare gift from our Muse.
I write a lot and also paint, draw, and cook. I operate on the premise that my blog entries, my paintings, the feasts I prepare in the kitchen can always be better. That edge of dissatisfaction keeps me alert and engaged. Knowing I can do better makes me a perpetual student, and it keeps me humble when my ego wants to encourage me to think I’m better than I am.
So when I create something and feel not just good but love for it, I know I have found my creative sweet spot. It’s a place of satisfaction and deep pleasure. And it’s rare.
Ira Glass put out a video about creativity that really struck me. As I make baby steps in a new creative medium, I remember his wise words. “You’re going to suck for a really long time,” he said. (I paraphrase.) We have to log a lot of hours at something before we’re good. (Malcolm Gladwell says 10,000 hours or ten years.) At the beginning there will be a giant chasm between where we want to be and the mucky training ground where we develop our craft.
So when these moments of love for something I’ve created appear, I seize them. The first time I can recall loving a piece of my art was when I painted a vase of flowers. The circumstances around the painting are part of the love. I was house sitting for a painter friend of mine and had access to her studio and all her pastels. My friend Todd was growing flowers that summer and brought me a bouquet of adorable flowers. I put them in a pink pot-bellied vase of my grandmother’s. And I painted it.
my favorite painting
I still adore the painting. When I look at it, I feel the pleasure from the colors, the comfort of the memories. I always have that satisfactory art making experience for times when I am not satisfied with my art.
Whenever a client comes to me for help with her art or writing, I don’t start the conversation by asking about the challenges and barriers to creating. I ask this simple question:
“What do you love about writing?”
The client connects to her passion for writing (or whatever the art form). She taps into her unique relationship with the art. From this place of remembered love, it’s easier to overcome obstacles both inner and outer.
I was in Belgium in March and I had the opportunity to meet Karl Raats of Pinching the Ostrich. Karl has embarked on a five-year program of creative discovery. He’s given himself tasks and assignments that include getting a couple of degrees and throwing himself into personal, professional and creative challenges.
Karl and Martine in Antwerp
When he told me he was looking for a challenge around art making, I immediately knew what I would make him do. He must have known I had something in mind because later he asked me for a challenge.
“Make something you love,” I dared him. Karl took me up on it and has shared some of his early attempts to paint something he loves.
It’s not as easy as it seems to feel love for your art. With intimate understanding of the efforts you’ve put in, we’re able to quickly see the flaws. Looking for love in the art takes more compassion, gentleness and awareness.
I think this is a good policy for life outside the studio as well. Look for something to love in every person, situation or moment. Train yourself to be a lover, not a critic.
Follow Karl’s Pinching the Ostrich project and see how he comes to love a piece of art he’s created.
Then go out and make your own loveable art. And then tell me about it in a comment below.
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