For The Artist At The Start Of The Day
A Blessing by John O'Donohue
May morning be astir with
the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the
eros of a new question,
Your eyes seduced by some
unintended glimpse
That cut right through the
surface to a source.
May this be a morning of
innocent beginning,
When the gift within you
slips clear
Of the sticky web of the
personal
With its hurt and its
hauntings,
And fixed fortress corners,
A morning when you become
a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend
from silence,
May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,
To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition,
Deep into the call of all
The unfinished and unsolved.
Until the veil of the unknown
yields
And something original
begins
To stir toward your senses
And grow stronger in your
heart
In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
A rhythm not yet heard,
That calls space to
A different shape.
May it be its own force field
And dwell uniquely
Between the heart and the
light
To surprise the hungry eye
By how deftly it fits
About its secret loss.
Ever since I got back to the states, I placed heavy expectations on myself and my artwork, mentally telling myself that “playtime was over, and now it was time to get work done.” But things rarely turn out the way we plan, and before I knew it, my own expectations and false images of what a successful artist looked like started to crush my creative spirit. I was creating artwork that I believed would please people, rather than creating what truly pleased myself. The results were suffocating and demoralizing, and I never felt as though I could satisfy the critic in my head. Even before my pencil could hit the paper, the critic in my head would say it’s gonna suck, or my skills are not good enough, or so-and-so would think it’s weird, terrible, unoriginal, blah blah blah.
Through this long slog of artist block, I’m coming to realize that I’m missing the heart of my work. And the heart of my art is to play, to explore, and to revel in the beauty of being alive. It’s not about money, or recognition. And as trite as that sounds, it’s such a common and subtle pitfall that I believe most people get stuck in it at some point of their life. Because we want to be recognized and praised, and who doesn’t want to make money off of doing what they love?
And I really do believe my troubles started when I placed these objectives before the heart of my work. I’ve put a false image of success before me like a carrot on a string, and have been chasing it around in circles ever since.So I’ve been having some hard talks with myself lately, really asking what is most important about making art. And it really comes down to because I love to create. Just as my heavenly Father creates, so I too, love to create. I desire to add beauty and truth to my world and the world around me. And maybe that means I won’t get published. And it probably means I won’t make much money off of it. That’s alright for me. It won’t mean that I stop trying to get published—and sure it’d be great to make some money on the side—but first and foremost I will follow my heart’s calling.
And so, for that reason, creating a drawing every day for Inktober was very challenging, because I knew that I was putting my artwork out there to be praised or criticized. I had to constantly remind myself that first and foremost I was creating art for myself, and not because other people thought it was or wasn’t cool. And through the challenge I learned a lot of things about myself and why I make art, and it really helped me to recognize my trouble spots and areas I wanted to improve—both skillwise and in practice. Here are some of my major takeaways:
I really liked how this piece turned out and am considering doing a few more of cat-and-kimono pieces. Funny story...Rainy no longer likes to sit under the red parasol. In fact, she's rather scared of it now. Thinks it's some kind of evil red monster that spontaneously pops open. Silly cat.
