9th
I’m a Tumblr Hack and I’m Okay.
I’ll add to this that I find accepting inevitable failure is incredibly freeing. I have been slowly working on project with a lovely writer where we are doing exactly that. We expect to fail. As a result we have been free to make whatever we want, and as we enter the final stages I’m delighted by it.
That might be a rather trite addition, but … whatever. It works for me.
We’re all steeping in sepia zeitgeist, wandering around this pixelated hall of smoke and mirrors.
Understandably, a lot of us spend a LOT of time worrying too much about whether or not we are, in fact, unlovable, boring, hackneyed, derivative artwankers, cluttering the world with yet more uninspiring and mediocre output.
It’s so easy to develop a Salieri complex.
FWIW, here’s a series of questions I try to ask myself whenever I’ve gotten trapped in some icky ego morass/insecurity loop (which happens all the fucking time). YMMV, but so far, regularly asking myself the following series of questions has kept me
from crawling under the porch and waiting to diecreative.
- Is being perceived by others as The Most Original Hot Shit Edgy Outre Genius Art God In the Known Universe my top priority for making art?
- No? (Thank heavens!) Is being loved or accepted by others my top priority for making art?
- Still no? Well, what, then?
- Communication? That’s cool. Bliss? Bliss. Okay, so… while I am making art, where does my mind go? Does the process bring me satisfaction, even a kind of rapture, unlike anything else I have ever experienced (not sex or drugs, nor food, nor travel, not sitting on a lofty, chaste throne of Meliority)?
- Am I constantly pushing myself and exploring new ideas?
- Is my approach to creating things as heartfelt, honest, and well-crafted as I can fucking manage?
At some point while conducting that self-examination (usually around question four), I come to my senses: there’s no need to explain or justify anything. Even if everyone hates what I make. Even if I’m a total hack. (Hey, you know what? I probably am. And that’s okay.)
Even if I hate what I make.
Haters gon’ hate. Critics gon’ crit. It’s fine. It’s good, actually. They/you are just doing their jobs. Let it keep you humble. But please, PLEASE don’t let yourself or anyone else talk you out of doing something that brings you joy, and isn’t hurting anyone.
Don’t ever talk yourself out of making art because you’re afraid of being mediocre or unlovable. It doesn’t matter.
Just keep following your fucking bliss.
I dunno. Maybe that’s just horrendously naive and oversimplifying. Whatever. It works for me.
