The days have been slipping by since my last post. I continue working on my own art as the world continues to kind of go off sideways in some corners. The weather here in Finland has been for the most part, simply lovely. There have been some beastly hot days recently (31°C / 87°F) with high humidity. It’s still not nearly as bad to New Mexico heat during the summer! Yuuuuuck!
My work progresses. I’m pleased with the progress. I’m not rushing anything, and continue to try and stay within the moment creatively. It’s interesting to not be taking so many pictures, because I’m making tons and tons of mistakes. All kinds of things are happening in my work that is just not good. It sounds weird, but I’m kind of liking that. With no fear of having to document the process with pictures and post them, I can just royally screw-up all over the place. No one ever has to know either. Well, that’s not totally true, the end product may just be a total disaster held together with baling wire and chewing gum!
Not taking pictures somehow is adding to the creative freedom I found originally through my original Creative Experiment. I called the Creative Experiment to an end in November 2019. The experiment had served its purpose and I needed to move on. I have found bits and pieces of the Creative Experiment surfacing in my current creative processes. I didn’t think this added creative freedom would be a side effect to taking a break from social media, but here we are.
The increased feeling of creative freedom — essentially, just the freedom to create my artwork without self broadcasting the actual work-in-process in real time — has made me realize how exhausting it was to continually document my processes in real time. This doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy sharing my processes and my artwork with people. I think I just need to create a framework for sharing and posting that is not as painful for me. I use ‘painful’ because yeah, it was getting painful. While I’m typing this, I have a low-level panic attack going on. I’ve not felt like this since last Monday when I posted.
So I need to figure out how to have an online presence without it causing me all manner of anxiety and panic. I’m confident that I will get there. As always, I just need to make sure that what I’m doing is the best for me in the long run.
This brings me to another one of those things I’ve read or have had said to me that makes me go:
I had touched on this in a previous post. It has to do with the following Sarah Andersen cartoon:
The societal myth regarding the sad artist resulting in great artwork. Man. This one ticks me off so much. I’ve done some research into this topic, being that I’ve got mental health issues and am an artist. It’s a topic near and dear to my existence. I’m surprised at how early these kinds of stereotypes are taught to children. It never ceased to surprise me when a student in one of my classes would chirp-up with some kind of “artists are all kind of crazy” comment about an artist we were looking at, or the art we were making in class. Again, students would know that some guy who painted flowers cut his ear off and yeah, he was totally coo-coo-nutty-crazy-bananas.
Yes. There are some artists who take their awful experiences and resulting sadness/depression and turn it into artwork (Guernica, The Scream, The Third of May 1808, Woman with Dead Child just to name a few) In the case of van Gogh, some truly great artwork. But that’s just one artist out of millions that have existed since the beginning of human history. And yes, I know that there are others, like the ones I listed above. Sarah is correct with her ‘Truth’ portion of her comic. Content artists are happy and healthy and productive artists. I can speak from personal experience here. Before I got a handle on my depression through lots and lots of therapy and medication, I would go months without creating anything. I just couldn’t see the point of it. My work sucked, and being depressed made it such even more. The little artwork that I created was just so, so, so bad. To be truthful, I destroyed a great deal of it, and what little I have kept, has been stored away and is not meant to be seen by anyone other than me. It’s awful work. It’s disturbing. I makes me cringe. CRINGE. I kept it to remind myself of what happens to my creativity and creative output when I don’t take care of my mental health.
The musical soundtrack to this not-so-fabulous, insanely deep depressive and unmedicated part of my life was Bob Mould’s Black Sheets of Rain. Oh man. I love Mr. Mould something fierce, but after going through therapy, I actually hid this album from myself so I wouldn’t end up in the fetal position on the floor of the bathroom crying into the bathmat while listening to It’s Too Late on repeat.
Once I had gone through a lot of therapy, that made me feel a lot worse before it made me feel better, I started making art again. The artwork was much better. So, so much better. As I started to figure myself out, my work became the means by which I began to paste myself back together again. For me, being contented and healthy, means that I am actively creating artwork that is fairly good (I think…) and I am continually productive as an artist.
The one part of Sarah’s comic that I differ from is the use of one word, ‘happy’. I prefer to use the word content instead. I liked The Oatmeal’s cartoon in which he talks about happy and unhappy being at the opposite ends of a continuum. “I want to be busy and beautiful and brimming with ten-thousand moving parts” is something to aspire to being.
There is research shows that there are some higher rates of mood disorders (depression for one) among artists. For me, it’s a chicken and the egg kind of thing. Am I depressive because I’m an artist, or am I an artist because I’m a depressive? Or…is it both? A little nature and a little nurture? I tend to believe the latter for myself, however, every artist who has a mood disorder will have their own unique circumstances of both nature and nurture that shapes them as people and as artists. To simply think that ‘all artists are nuts‘ is just a blanket over-simplification of a topic that is far, far, far more complicated than most people are comfortable talking about. I don’t know many people who want to talk about visual art and mental illness in separate conversations, much less together in the same conversation.
I feel as though I’m having what I call a ‘Charlie Watts Moment’. Allow me to explain. In the Rolling Stones documentary 25×5:The Continuing Adventures of the Rolling Stones (1990), there’s an interview of the band in which they are all asked about touring. Charlie, being quintessentially Charlie, states that he dislikes touring a great deal, but he loves playing drums with the rest of the lads. As the interviewer goes on to question Mick and Keith and Ronnie, Charlie is still mentally chewing on the conundrum of loving to play music with his bandmates, but not liking that he has to tour to do it. He mutters something along the lines of “It’s just a vicious cycle…goin’ ’round and ’round…”
I love making art and showing it and my processes, but the act of sharing it makes me not happy. It’s just a vicious cycle going ’round and ’round in my mind right now and I need to make sure that whatever solution I come up with keeps me mentally healthy and content so I can continue making art that I want to create.
Thank you for reading, and I will talk to you again next Monday.
Charlie Watts — just a lovely, talented man. He’s a gem.
*The Little Gray Cells — I’ve been listening to a lot of Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot mysteries over the past week.