For the last few days I have been locked in the age-old confusion every human being has dealt with since the beginning of time, wondering who I am and what I’m supposed to do. I think our inability to answer these questions (although some people seem born with a certainty) is what corporate America preys on. Most of us end up falling into jobs that do not inspire, do not resonate in our souls, do nothing to help us answer these questions, because we simply don’t know what else to do.
I wrote a post when I was in the depths of despair (see previous post Who Am I?) that didn’t get a great response from you all (I always watch that little “like” button at the top of a post to see if it’s resonating with you and this one didn’t). However, reader Terry Litton wrote a very sensitive response to the piece, which not only asked the question that has inspired this post, but it also offered me a lifeline back to myself. Thank you, Terry, truly.
Let me begin today’s post with Terry’s comments:
“I have to say I was surprised by today’s post. Are you feeling like it’s time to open a new chapter? When I consider your life, and your journey as I know it from the Blog, (and I may be waaay off base here) to me, it feels like you are living your truth, and I might add, enriching the lives of SO many others by sharing your gifts, your art and your writing and the fabulous photos that make it all so “real.” It’s because of your insightful posts that I have come to experience a heightened awareness of my own surroundings. I just plain notice more and I find beauty and gratitude in the everyday. As I read your post today, I thought of how generous you are to be so honest and open, and vulnerable. And in each post you seem to serve up a lesson, big or small, it is there, and I’m not even sure that is your intent.
But how presumptuous of me to think that your current path is your forever path. I have no doubt in my mind that you will continue to grow and evolve. It is who you are. This I know for sure.”
Jeane here: I answered some of Terry’s questions in a response on the actual post (Who Am I?). This is my expanded answer:
Welcome to the Struggle: What Artists Don’t Talk About
Some of my artist friends have been concerned that I tell only one side of the artist’s story on this blog–that I write more about the joy and don’t give equal attention to the struggle. There has been some criticism that the blog is lop-sided and shallow, one-dimensional, even superficial—that I’m sketching a flat caricature of reality. And, on some levels, I think what they say is true. It is certainly easier to write about inspiration than angst. And, although I have frequently written that being an artist is not for the faint of heart, that it takes faith, that we must “believe” in the face of not knowing, those are rather vague, flowery statements meant to convey, while still not saying, that there is real strife in walking this path. So in the midst of my own personal and very real struggle–something I don’t usually share with our blog community–I decided that this part of an artist’s life is worthy of being written about too.
I just watched a documentary about artists in Paris at the turn of the century–1905 to 1930 specifically–the painters and writers and composers of the time. It is called Paris the Luminous Years: Toward the Making of the Modern. These artists that included Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Marc Chagall, Igor Stravinsky, James Joyce, Marcel Duchamp, Ernest Hemingway, Jean Cocteau, Gertrude Stein, Vaslav Nijinsky and Aaron Copland, among numerous others, “… revolutionized the direction of the modern arts.”
Watching this stunning piece of history I felt jealous, wishing I’d been a part of such a seething, brilliant and creative time. I had to be reminded that, of course, the film was idealizing the lives and times. But, even so, it described these greats, the people who some say created modern art, as living and working in studios that were freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. They had no electricity, no water, no heat. They went to the cafes to get warm and to bathe. This was the way they lived not because it was somehow arty and Bohemian, but because they were poor and it was all they could afford. It may sound romantic but I doubt very much that it was. These artists sacrificed their comforts in order to make the art that we all enjoy today.
So, yes, Terry, just like these great artists and most of the unsung artists down through the centuries, I am compelled to pursue my art. I do believe I’m walking my path, living my truth as you say. And it is precious to me, more so than anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life. My one great and overriding fear is that I may lose this artist’s life I am privileged, now, to live because I can no longer afford it. In fact one of the most challenging things about being an artist, unless one is independently wealthy as some are, even here in Truchas, is the need to earn money. As I watch my savings account dwindle, which it is doing all the time, no matter how many sales I may stow there, it gets harder and harder to “believe,” harder to manage the fear.
Here is an important truth that seems somehow forgotten in this day and age: If we want art we must support artists. It’s as simple as that.
It’s why there used to be patrons—people who sustained certain artists for parts of, or the whole of, their lives. It still happens today but not like it did in the time of the Medici. A friend of mine worked within the comfort of a patronage until he died. It gave him sustained peace and freedom to create what was in his heart to do. Because he didn’t have to worry about money, he also didn’t have to consider the market. So he didn’t ever concern himself with what was in fashion, what would sell. Great art can be born of that.
And, Terry, I realize that when we read something, we don’t necessarily get the tone the writer is trying to convey. I see, now, that the ending of that post, saying, “But what now, Spirit? What now? Show me,” could easily be taken as an expression of excitement at the “opening of a new chapter” as you say. But, no, it was meant to be read as a question; one that shows a willingness to let go of any attachment to who and what I’ve believed myself to be; one I’ve been putting to the universe for over 17 years now–ever since I first took the leap from a corporate job into that of a working artist–whenever I am facing what looks like an end; when it seems I can’t financially sustain myself much longer doing what I’ve felt guided to do. In these times, although it can be quite scary, I empty myself of all preconceived notions and ask, what now, Spirit? Show me.
And then I watch for the signs. That you, Terry, feel my blog is enriching the lives of others, and that something in my posts has heightened your awareness, keeps me going. Truly. In fact, notes like yours, especially in times of crisis, are what I take as signs that I AM still on my right path.
Joseph Campbell’s famous thinking, that if I follow my bliss doors will open where I didn’t know they were going to be, has sustained me and I’ve fervently believed it’s true. In fact I’ve built a life on it.
I am reminded, now, of John Burroughs’ simple and perfect call to action: “Leap and the net will appear.”
Well, Spirit, I’m mid-leap.
Show me.
Love to you all,
Jeane
As I read your words today, I have to say, my raw emotions are running mad. I am inspired that you embrace feedback from your readers, but I struggle a bit with the critique. Words like one-dimensional, shallow and especially superficial, do not fit, to
my mind. That is not who you are. So, I just needed to release that. I do think it is good for your readers to understand the struggles, the need for you to earn your living and that it is far from easy, and more than a little scary. This is your reality. After reading Being An Artist Can Be Hard I began to understand the challenge.
I see the Blog as SO much more than an Artist’s
story. It is the sharing of your journey, your path that led you to Truchas and
the Land Grant. Your life!!
I’ve shared many posts with friends, and I have my favorites. Finn surrounded by his bounty of stuffed animals from the thrift store. The day of the skunk made me laugh out loud. And many many more. Some
serious and thought provoking and others make me smile. Perfect balance for me.
I do relate to the angst. It visits in the dark
of night, a free floating anxiety of sorts.
I printed out the following quote and I read it
aloud as I make my morning coffee.
Worry doesn’t relieve tomorrow if its troubles,
it only robs today of its strength.
And of course there was a lesson for me in all
of this. I almost didn’t respond to Friday’s post thinking “Well, Jeane knows all this. I’m not telling her anything new.” But I felt compelled to speak. I am coming to understand that it just might be better to put it out there. Don’t presume to know how it will be received. It absolutely made my day that my words were helpful.
Best,
Terry
I’m so glad, Terry, that you felt compelled to respond to that post. Obviously, your words were profoundly helpful to me.
Honestly, very few people have felt the blog was superficial or any of those other criticisms. The overwhelming number of readers feel as you do, which pleases me no end. The criticism came entirely from other working artists who felt I might be painting an incomplete portrait of “the life.” But you know how the criticisms take hold, right?
I just reread Being An Artist Can Be Hard and kind of cringed. It’s very, very hard for me to tell the truth about this aspect of my life without feeling embarrassed and whiny. So I’m glad you weren’t put off by it.
And, I agree, the blog is meant to be much more than an artist’s story. It is the unfolding of a person’s journey who just happens to be an artist. It is the story of my life, as you say, and in its telling, as you noted in your other response, it is always my hope that there is a bit of a lesson in each post; that what has been helpful or meaningful for me might also be helpful to someone else.
Don’t you wish there’d been photos while the whole skunk thing was going on? Now THAT would have been a popular post! Finn does make for some good stories.
Thank you so much for your morning quote. I like it and will add it to those on my fridge. But thank you, mostly, for being a loyal reader, for sharing the posts, and for reaching out and pulling me from the darkness this week. You are my angel.
Love to you,
Jeane
Though I havn’t been reading your blog for long I’ve certainly been doing a lot of catching up by reading back. You are very inspiring! Your life reads like a book and you write so well. Even your struggles are inspiring because you are so philosophical about what you are experiencing. Sharing your trials (and tribulations) as an artist helps other artists to feel that they are part of a tribe who are all in it together. (Incidentally I shared Being an Artist Can be Hard, in my sidebar a few weeks ago). Yesterday I wrote a comment about the fears we face as artists who are trying to make a living but I couldn’t quite say what i was feeling and deleted it. The fact is we know that the fears get in the way of being an artist but it’s so difficult to ignore them. If we were financially secure we could just get on with it…… but the thing I have noticed about myself is that when everything is running smoothly and I don’t have to worry about making ends meet the urgency is gone and quality time just becomes loafing time and I spend far too much time on the internet because ‘what’s the rush?’. I also think or would like to think that the Universe meets us half way if we put in the effort ….. but then the doubts kick in. I have a friend who bakes one or two items very well and she supplies a local shop to keep the wolves from the door while she gets on her feet as an artist. I know it won’t solve your immediate problem but have you thought of writing magazine articles and/or writing a book about your life in New Mexico?
Thank you so much for your thoughtful response to the blog. I really appreciate that you totally get how and why I’m sharing the struggles–that you understand it’s all about the lessons that are being offered to me/to us, in any circumstance. Thank you. And I so appreciate that you understand I’m writing to acknowledge our connection–to affirm we are all in it together.
I have often wondered, Robyn, if I would make art if I was independently wealthy. Perhaps that’s why I’m not–so that I will continue to create. The universe loves creative energy for sure. There is an interesting kind of inspiration in the urgency, I agree. So maybe I continue to create THAT rather than an easier financial flow. But, yes, most of the time I am able to hold the fear at bay and just allow that creative tension or need to propel me.
I would love to find a writing or editing job on the side that could smooth out the financial flow, and thank you for your belief in my ability to sell myself to magazines. But the fact is, magazine pieces take a ton of time and energy and pay almost nothing. I have friends who have done it and are doing it. As to a book, enough of you have put that Idea out there that I’m thinking about figuring out how to do that. A book that publishes the best of the blog is what I’m thinking. Know any agents/editors/publishers?
Thanks so much for participating with the blog, Robyn. Your thoughts are very meaningful to me.
I think you may have been having trouble with Diqus, the blog’s comments engine, which happens often–it’s Disqus, not you. And this response ended up on two posts (lovely to read your kind words again–thank you!). So I responded to it on What do Artists Know? Thank you so much for becoming an important part of a continuing and vibrant conversation.
Yes but who wants to read about misery?! What you are doing is spreading joy. If that’s shallow, let’s all be shallow forever more.
Well, I do believe every emotion is valid and deserves to be expressed and heard, but I will never dwell on the darkness and I will always find the lesson. And I think that has the potential for spreading joy. Thanks for the nice compliment by the way.