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| Eeyore understands -- :) |
(Sigh.)
This happens to me every summer prior to the start of the MN Renaissance Festival's season. Even though I know to expect and prepare for it now, being in its throes gets harder every year.
It's all due to the fact that even though I'm physically exhausted at the moment, my thoughts are a perfect storm. There's so much to do, order, create, organize, scan, clean, print, package, sew, launder, frame, sign, number, count, fill-in-the-blank. The list is endless and intimidating! And then I have to go and add to it a plateful of self-doubt with a side of longing-to-rewind-Time-and-do-all-sorts-of-things-over.
I look at the recent work I've been so happily creating and I suddenly dislike it in spades. It's not good enough. It's all too whimsical or something. Too light! And too cartoonish, maybe. I imagine harsh public scrutiny. I compare myself unfavorably to creative friends I know who really ARE artists. I imagine few sales for the millionth Festival year in a row....
It's all due to the fact that even though I'm physically exhausted at the moment, my thoughts are a perfect storm. There's so much to do, order, create, organize, scan, clean, print, package, sew, launder, frame, sign, number, count, fill-in-the-blank. The list is endless and intimidating! And then I have to go and add to it a plateful of self-doubt with a side of longing-to-rewind-Time-and-do-all-sorts-of-things-over.
I look at the recent work I've been so happily creating and I suddenly dislike it in spades. It's not good enough. It's all too whimsical or something. Too light! And too cartoonish, maybe. I imagine harsh public scrutiny. I compare myself unfavorably to creative friends I know who really ARE artists. I imagine few sales for the millionth Festival year in a row....
I find myself wanting to rewrite my history. Insert some stuff in there that never happened but should have. How would things be different now if I'd gone to Art School, learned to use the correct materials, learned to do things the right way, found my style? Would I have a healthy respect for my work now and not see it as simply lucky scribbles? Would I finally view it as Real Art, worthy of payment, and stop giving it away? Would I be able to call myself an artist and not feel like a liar?
I know it's just my inner Mean Girl. I recognize her voice. She's taking advantage of the fact that I'm too tired right now to fight back and I know this. As I try to fall asleep at night she hits me with her best shot -- over and over again -- and I just lie there and let her.... I've learned over the years to anticipate this, too. (Again -- doesn't get any easier.)
Do other creative people feel this way, I wonder? Do they share these doubts? And if so, what do they do to silence their inner critics?
What am I saying? Why don't I just ASK you: You're creative, my friend. I'm in awe of everything you do, and you know it. Do you experience what I'm describing? And if so, how do you handle it?
Waiting on your every word,
~me.
