Ups and Downs

Sometimes I feel like if I express all the turmoil in my mind, I will find peace and rest. I am in the middle of the beginning of a new painting and I am facing my demons as I work. So, forgive me for being a downer, but I am going to unfurl my thoughts for a moment in the hopes that I can shake out all the nasty rats of self-doubt and insecurity.

I have spoken before, and I am sure I will reference it many more times, but being a creator is a very bumpy road. Out-of-the-blue there will be wonderful, affirming, once-in-a-millenium opportunities. Someone will want to buy up everything you are making. You’ll get into a show that you’ve long admired as a spectator. You’ll win an award. You’ll Go Viral. You’ll sell a piece for enough to actually pay a bill.

And then, after all the high-highs and elation, awkward silence sets in. No crickets, even. All you have to fill the quiet are tumultuous thoughts that leave you second, third, hundredth guessing anything positive that might have ever happened.

No one actually likes your stuff. You’ll never create something as good again. You’re a one-trick pony and a one-hit wonder. You’re a fraud. You got lucky.

And after weeks, months, years… something amazing happens again. And it all feels worthwhile. But inevitably the awkward pauses that feel career-ending loop back through and you’re stuck in the miasma of self-loathing and doubt.

You gaslight yourself. You find explanations for why every single positive was a one-off.

It’s really exhausting. Up, up, up (though it is usually more of a slight incline rather than Everest). And then a deep dive to the bottom of the Marianas trench.

How does one break this cycle? As a career progresses, do the highs and lows even out to more of the gentle bobbing of a duck in a pond on a breezy day?

I feel great sadness for Vincent Van Gogh. But I understand his angst and discouragement. I am not close to chopping off my ear or anything, but I understand how bleak it all can feel. An artist friend once said, “it’s a good thing we’re Mormons and we don’t drink; otherwise, we’d be alcoholics.” Uh, yes. The feelings can be a lot.

In my life I tend to cope with anxiety by digging deep and keeping busy. Or I shut down. So, as I contemplate this new piece and feel misgivings and insecurities, I fight the urge to throw my paintbrushes across the room, shutter my website, and forget I ever tried this artist thing. Instead I scrunch close to the board and drag the paint near and keep painting clouds — one stroke at a time.

Eventually the constant dip, splodge, wiggle, splash, wipe of the paintbrush will get me past this speed bump and I will feel happy with what I created whether or not anyone else likes it.

And then, after a while, the glow of accomplishment will fade and I’ll start thinking about how I will never be able to do something I’m proud of again.

So, I’ll lay my thoughts to rest now that the cathartic airing-of-anxiety has ended and tomorrow I hope to wake up ready to paint some more of these clouds.