The so-called “creative block” that I’ve run into over the years has come from anxieties over my work not being good enough, telling myself that I didn’t have enough time, comparing myself to other artists, and so many other things.
I’ve done searches for “how to overcome creative block,” and they all pretty much say the same thing, like “take a walk,” or “clean your studio,” or “always carry a sketchbook,” or “take a nap.”
A nap is always good, and sure…carry a sketchbook, take a walk and do the other things as well, but those don’t really get at the root of the problem (or problems) that you could be struggling with.
Although some of those things might help temporarily, after several years (and lots of pain, frustration, bleak years of bare canvases/paper), I realized the only natural way to break through a creative block (permanently) has always been to ask myself ONE question…and to work through the answers.
What is true?
This is the kind of question that opens a can of worms and makes you dig deep and ask and answer more questions. Here are some of my (vulnerable) questions and answers that continually help me push through any creative block:
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It really doesn’t matter, does it?
When I first begin making something, I often think about how my artwork is received, and I routinely battle with my inner monkey. I have to overcome a bit of anxiety, especially when I begin, but I always try to focus on the process…the moment. My worst-case scenario is the trash bin. Telling myself that “None of this really matters, does it?” helps me put it all into perspective.
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Does other people’s opinion matter?
Sometimes when I make something that I think is weak, other people seem to like it more than I do, and vice versa. This dynamic is strange to me and keeps me curious. The only thing that seems to be pretty consistent has been in my photography. Still, I shouldn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about my art. That is unless I’m asking for some constructive criticism or if I’m making something special for someone.
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Does Facebook even matter?
When people like my posts (particularly on Facebook), it seems like it’s like when a child shows their school drawings when they come home from school. It’s more of an obligation. And it’s hard to look at social media analytics. Most of my so-called “followers” on Facebook are friends and family. I see what Facebook calls my “post reach” (who sees my post) is pretty high, but I rarely get more than a couple of likes or even a share. This means that they see what I post, but they keep on scrollin’ by. At first, it was a struggle not to care about this, but now I just ignore it. I have Instagram connected to Facebook and most times post from Instagram and ignore Facebook altogether. I have to remind myself that Facebook, in particular, is a mirror, and the majority of the people dwelling on Facebook want to see more of and about themselves.
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Does Instagram matter?
I try to take things slow on Instagram. Still, thumbing through and double-tapping likes on pictures and artwork on Instagram are the crudest and most superficial ways to view someone’s work. I’m guilty of it too. I am working on this. I wish there were a better way to experience everyone’s work more slowly. This shallowness is another reason that helps me not pay too much attention to social media responses. I use Instagram to discover other artists more than to share my art. I’m working on being more engaged and scrolling less quickly. When I find artists I like, I visit their websites and subscribe to their email newsletters. Some I buy prints and books, and always try to leave meaningful comments on pieces that I feel moved by. I also do not follow lots of artists to gain more followers, or that’d be way too overwhelming.
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What’s the use of even sharing this stuff?
Even before hearing about Vivian Maier, I felt that it was kind of my responsibility for sharing what little talent I had with the world. I know that part of my Purpose is to just create and to keep on creating, no matter how good it is or how it is received. To keep pushing forward and upward, no matter what. My friend Joe once told me that he felt it was part of his Purpose to take as many pictures as he could and share them all. His “job,” he said, was to just record it all. And in his short lifetime, just that one portion of what he did with his life was enormously impactful to so many people.
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Don’t you want more social followers?
No, not really. I see other artists that get hundreds and thousands of likes and comments. If my popularity grew that much, I think I would quit or just walk away from it because I knew it would draw my focus away from my art too much. Knowing this helps to reaffirm that any lack of likes or attention on social media is alright.
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What do you want to do with your stuff?
I don’t want to focus on selling the original or prints of my artwork. That stuff will all work out on its own. So then, what do I want to do with it all? I tell myself that I want to have it discovered later by my children and their children and their children after I’m long gone. Other than the process itself, I care about what I leave behind (my legacy).
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What am I trying to say?
I’m expressing something, or at least, I feel something inside me is trying to say something either to me or someone else. I am fascinated by this, and I am actively listening to this strange voice. There is an effort of communication trying to happen. And other than me listening, 99.93% of the rest of the world is not listening. That is fine. I like to think that I’m just the processor. When I look back at some of my old art I sometimes learn new lessons, but what really fascinates me is when someone sees something profound in my art that I didn’t see or intend.
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What’s the use?
I often have to overcome the “What’s the use?” conflict/argument. If I post something that doesn’t get likes, doesn’t get shared or commented on, no one wants it, and maybe I don’t even like it, then what’s the point of making it? I have to remember that anytime I make something new, I grow…I learn, and I push through something important. Whether the end product sucks or not.
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What makes you anxious?
Like an addict, I know when I need time to create. Not getting that time to myself or getting interrupted makes me an anxious and irritable fool. I also get anxious sometimes and worry that if I put out how I’m feeling inside sometimes, it will either scare or offend those I’m close to. I shouldn’t care, I know. I also think that my next piece of artwork should be better than the last. So some things I’ll never publish.
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If none of it matters, why post it or even have a website?
I create art because the process makes me happy. Being successful at it is an entirely different beast altogether. I’d much rather focus on the process part and let the success part figure itself out. I put it all up for myself (because it’s just plain fun) and as a way to connect with the outside world. I also like to feel like I’m putting stuff out there that might be helping others. Besides, it’s exciting to support or to be supported by someone who shares the same sort of work you believe in.
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What if my art isn’t any good, or someone else’s art is better?
Man, I’ll be proud of something I’ve created and then look at someone else’s art that is just fantastic, marvelous, intricate, and beautiful and want to throw up, crawl into a corner, stab my eyeballs with my paintbrushes, and die. I have to remind myself that the mediocre art that I produce is better than no art produced at all. And out of thin air, I am bringing something brand new into the world that had never existed before. It’s a kind of magic.
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How or where do I start?
This is one of my toughest battles: knowing what to make. Sometimes I’ll have an idea, or at least know what materials I want to work with. Most times I do not. I’ll turn on my music first (I have a specific playlist) and let myself kind of get lost in the music and let my mind wander while my fingers fiddle with the things on my desk and I just start to play. Sometimes it takes a song or two. A small percentage of the time the doodles that I start with I’ll just keep as scraps, but oftentimes I’ll continue getting lost in what I’m doing until I’ve actually created something worth keeping. Preparation is key, here. Have a place set aside that is comfortable, private, and has good natural light. Surround yourself with things that foster creativity and freedom. This is your studio. Make it yours. And keep all of your art supplies out! Never pack that stuff away. Always have your space set up so that you can paint, draw, sculpt (or whatever) at a moment’s notice. Find what technique(s) get you loosened up and just start to play.
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What if I can’t come up with anything?
When I make time to do my art, I can eventually connect to something deeper inside that is wiser, childlike, and primal that is very helpful to my well-being and keeps me balanced. The process matters most. I actively remind myself to release myself into the moment, breathe, listen to intuition, and play. It’s a kind of dynamic meditation.
I do have more questions that I ask myself, and these all constantly evolve (both the questions and the answers). My point is that the so-called creative blocks aren’t something that comes from some outside force or something that can be permanently solved by enlisting in some new routine (like taking a nap) unless you begin looking inward into yourself and figuring out what is causing you to hesitate.
You have to do the hard work of asking yourself the tough questions. Write them all down and be honest with your answers.
What has helped me is that in my mind, I have altered the name “creative block” to “what is true?” and I’ve actually used this one question as a guiding question for much of my life. It hasn’t been an easy path (and I wouldn’t want it to be), and it’s never not work. And I love the work.
Let the art happen through you, and not just be made by you. Don’t force, plan, or even think about it. This is the way you can use art that will help reveal to you who you really are.
What is true for you?
What do you think?