The Artist’s Way, Week 7: Almost Like a Kid
Connection through hosting a late birthday party, cheap kiddie pools, old sketchbooks and memory lane.
Last week’s topic in Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way, was on Connection. And somehow, it was a very seamless week for this introverted Goblin Queen to tackle as far as tasks went.
But it made me face some hard realities.
In case you missed week six, or if you’d like to revisit this series when you embark on this journey, yourself, then go check out my previous Artist Way posts in the Challenges section:
The Artist’s Way, Week 6: Quit Playin' Around
Is there a current generation of a popular “half-way there” song that I’m not aware of?? If so, please let me know in the comments! Last week was week 6 out of 12, “Recovering a Sense of Abundance.”
Listening = Accepting
Art is not about thinking something up. It is about the opposite—getting something down.
I learned that lesson during my artist date, which was to flip through my old sketchbooks. Old as in…these books were dated in 2013, 2010. And I have to say, I was very good at copying. My eye-to-hand coordination was incredible for so young an age. But I didn’t have the knack for analyzing why I drew things a certain way. So anything that I drew “from scratch,” especially in the early days, wasss….not so great. But I did it anyway. I didn’t even notice the violent discrepancies between copied work and “original,” sans reference work.
We must listen and accept the fact that creation is a natural human endeavor—so much so that we must accept that God wants us to create. Therefore, when we listen and accept this, “The creator will hand you whatever you need for the project.”
For me, that synchronicity fell upon me on Sunday, when I re-visited some images that I took of my sketchbooks. One of these images was the rubric that’s pasted within the covers of my two IWs.
And from there, a plethora of ideas all of a sudden became incredibly do-able. By revisiting that process that I already am familiar with, this repeatable routine can actually be something I apply to the stack of ideas that I have piling in my notebooks. Not to mention, it gave me great ideas beyond art only on canvas.
“Learn to accept the possibility that the universe is helping you with what you are doing.” Thank you, Universe, for presenting this map from my childhood.
Perfectionism, my hidden enemy
This section made me look at a number of truths face on. She spelled out the issues with perfectionism in a way that really went for the soft spot on my temple:
“Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. It is a loop—an obsessive, debilitating closed system….”
“The perfectionist is never satisfied.”
“Perfectionism is not a quest for the best. It is a pursuit of the worse in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough—that we should try again.
No we should not.”
These are all things I knew, but I never really internalized until I saw the ink on the page. What happens when I allow myself to let go of that false sense of control that perfectionism gives me??
Risk happens. Let it.
When I let go of perfectionism, I face a wall of risk. Risk of the piece not turning out how I want it to be. Risk of wasting hours and frustration on a piece that isn’t anything worth…showing?? I didn’t show my sketchbook nor my planner pages nor my classroom sketches for over a decade.
The pressure of having something to show for “being an artist” or “being a body builder” or “being a ….” fill in the blank, is a weight that I wish to shed. I want to create that quantity so I can look back and think, “I am an artist.” Or seeing stage shots and think, “I am a body builder.”
I get too caught up in the noise and pressure of already showing when I need to actually get caught up in the act of creating.
The success of a creative recovery hinges on our ability to move out of the head and into action.
Julia Cameron also wrote “As blocked artists, we unrealistically expect and demand success from ourselves AND recognitions of that success from others.” I was caught up in that recognition and self demand. Time to shed that and just create, express, DO!
As a kid, I never used to seek that kind of recognition until social media came about— until I wanted that audience to share my shiny things. But that very same desire is so stifling when you run out of shiny things.
Safety is a very expensive illusion. …we won’t do something unless we can guarantee that we’ll do it perfectly.
I used to not care growing up. I didn’t care how I looked, what other people thought of my art, what other people thought of my music taste. Without realizing it, as I grew more and more blocked, as I strayed further and further away from my inner artist child, the more self conscious I became in more aspects of my life than ever before. What could I have done if I stopped caring and just lived in that risk, again??
In my old sketchbooks, I didn’t care that I copied Gir from Invader Zim 25 times over. I didn’t care that I was copying the lines of songs in my sketchbook. I didn’t care that I followed the video tutorial bonus feature on how to draw Spirit 5 million times. I did it because I loved it so deeply.
A risk is worth taking simply for the sake of taking it.
Community
While I have never really been a jealous person, I can be envious of accomplishments that I think are too far beyond my reach. I’m less-so jealous of the person, but more-so of the result that they have gleaned from having the patience and consistency of creating or sticking to a meal plan or saving money.
[Jealousy] doesn’t allow for the abundance and multiplicity of the universe. Jealousy tells us there is room for only one….
And there is always room at the table. Especially these days, it is so easy to find communities of people trying to reach the same (or similar) goal as you. These communities are always trying to grow.
This week, I turned to my own tribe. It seems like no one has had the time to gather until this week. As they left the party, everyone voiced some version of the same relief: “I’m so glad we all got together.”
For the party, I channeled my old inspirations: Ina Garten (who is now on Substack!) for making everything from scratch, and my own child-like joys like fireworks on warm nights and water on a hot summer day. Even in a hungover stupor, I was determined enough to meander my way to Bi-Mart and bought not one, not two, but FOUR $7 kiddie pools to sit in the 95 degree heat.
With the help of a dog’s hair and a couple of party stragglers, we lounged and endured the heat together while grazing on what remained of the food that was left on the table.
We all needed rest, community, company, a break from the monotony of our own brands of “busy.” We needed to be adults sitting in shallow kids’ pools. We needed to eat whatever we wanted because we could. We needed to crack open a cold one on a hot day. We needed to almost be like a kid, again. I, for one, needed to be reminded of the artist that I was and still am.
If this week taught me anything, it’s that revisiting enjoyments from being a kid can be elevated with the new wisdom of becoming an adult.
Until our next encounter, darling goblins.
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