ARTIST-TO-ARTIST PEP TALK

Dear Artist, 

This pep talk is for you if you’ve ever asked yourself, “Why should I bother making art? What is the point in sharing it?” These questions are set up to fail us, derail us, and are so often rooted in feeling overwhelmed. That feeling of never quite being able to catch our breath. And how can anyone make art when they’re breathless? 

The irony is that art is the oxygen.

Accessing, exploring, and expressing our creativity is as vital as breathing. We (hopefully) get a taste of this as kids. The chance to let our imaginations go wild. To run up to a friend or family member and exclaim, “Look at what I made!” If we haven’t accessed that part of ourselves in a while, it can feel like that part of us is long gone. But it’s simply not true. It has been in hibernation. 

Before my pivot to fully and wholeheartedly pursuing a creative career, I worked a handful of corporate jobs. Going above and beyond expectations to fulfill the role (of the job I wanted more often than the job I was actually paid to do) in a misguided effort to prove my worth. Yet I was left feeling unfulfilled, and slowly normalizing existing in a constant state of burnout. 

I traded fields, companies, and climbed corporate ladders, always waiting to find what I hoped would feel like taking a deep and satisfying breath. Always hoping to finally feel like myself.

In every job I held, I sought any opportunity to insert my creativity. Presentations became opportunities for artistic flair by way of adding vivid colors, cool layouts, and engaging graphics for impact. I’d use funny character names for internal company manuals (shoutout: Linda Lobster and Timmy Tuna). My team looked forward to every holiday season when I’d develop new games and hand out prizes to the winners from my infamous Santa sack – much like Rudolph, my blindfolded Frosty the Snowman drawing contest will go down in history. 

Little morsels of me crawling out of hibernation’s revolving door.

It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. 

Outside of the nine-to-five, I eventually started writing again. Returning to the craft that had always called to me since I was a kid. The call I repeatedly answered with: “one day, when I have the time, I’ll do something with this.”

But I realized that nobody was going to magically give me the time I needed to do something with my writing. I had to give it to myself. 

I had to choose myself. I had to choose my art.

Saying good riddance to corporate life and focusing entirely on my creative calling has been both triumphant and terrifying. Beyond the obstacles and unknowns that every independent artist must navigate, creating meaningful art requires getting closer to the heart of myself. There were (and still are) many wounds there. Wounds that resurface those same questions: “Why should I bother making art? What is the point in sharing it?”

When those questions feel all-consuming, I now know that it likely means I need a break. A chance to rest and recharge. And what usually helps me through that? I’ll rewatch my favorite movies or dive into a new book. I’ll slow down enough to appreciate the artwork I have hanging up on my walls or to feel the craftsmanship of my favorite handmade mug. Art is what helps me catch my breath once again. 

And before I know it, my heart is racing towards creating again. Called to deepen this connection with myself through my writing. Moved by the idea that my poetry could be the very thing that helps another person catch their breath. 

So these questions, “Why should I bother making art? What is the point in sharing it?” while critical in tone are worth answering for what they reveal. Art, much like breath, gives us life. And life is all about connection. Deepening our relationships with others and deepening the relationship we have with ourselves. That is why we bother. That is the whole point.

Everybody’s call to make art is going to be as unique to them as the art itself. I am not preaching that the only way to answer a creative calling is to quit your corporate job. There is no right way to make or share art– there is only the what-feels-right-to-you way. 

I simply offer you encouragement and empowerment to turn inward. Ask yourself, “What do I need to feel like myself?” Is it time to catch your breath? Is it making art for only yourself, like you did when you were a kid? Is it making art that you want to share far and wide, trusting that if you’re being called to make it, it’s likely because someone out there needs it?

Perhaps the more meaningful question is this: 

“If my art could help someone, how could I not make it?”

Because even if you’re still not sure that this could be true of someone else, couldn’t that someone simply be you?

Let it be you.

Choose yourself. Choose your art.

Love,

Your fellow artist