Exploring Art 14: Drawing through the pain

This particular journal is a bit personal and I'm not sure if it should be part of the exploring art series, or a personal one. But I'll post it as exploring art for now. It's about artist's block due to depression.

Every time I have had artist's block, it's been because of one of those reasons. Hurt, loneliness, depression, stress, overwork. I've had days where I had so many commissions staring at me that my brain locked up and I couldn't draw a thing. I've had days where I was in so much emotional pain that the thought of MOVING, let alone creating, was a feat only Hercules could manage. I've had days where there was just this overwhelming amount of 'life' in the way, and my art was sitting on the other side with no way to get to it.

I'm having one of those days, weeks, months. I've been having it for years if we want to be completely honest. How long was it since you guys all saw new art from me? Two years? Yeah. I'm not out of that block, not by a long shot. But I have made some changes that I think will affect how I handle my creativity. It's.. mostly about emotional pain guys, so if you're having blocks about just too much work to do, we can talk about that too and I think I'll do another journal about block because of too much to do, or too much life to do and not enough time to draw.  But right now... it hurts. It's about when you can't draw because it just hurts too much.

First off these posts. I've said it before, this isn't me lecturing you guys on how to be artistic people. It's me thinking out loud. Questioning, wondering, debating, thinking. And every time you guys respond and give me your thoughts, I think on them as well and incorporate how they make me feel and think into my decisions on each subject, that is if I come to a decision at all. The reason I do these posts is to talk.. and to remind myself that I am an artist. I am a thinking, creating, feeling, wildly complicated person who does this because it is in my nature. I am an artist. I cannot possibly lose sight of that, no matter how crappy I think my art is, no matter what stage of learning I'm in, no matter how far I have to go. I am an artist and nothing will change that. It is not a label anyone can give me, it is not something that can be taken away. It is simply who I am.

So now that I have accepted that I am an artist, come hell or high water, I have to accept that I am also human. And in pain. How you deal with your pain is a unique and individual experience just as how you live your life is unique to you and you alone. But I realized that somewhere in there, art needs to happen. Because I am an artist, because it is who I am, and if I lose touch with my art, I lose touch with a very core part of my being. In an indirect way... not drawing? Being lost in the artist's block? That is letting the depression win. That is throwing my hands up and saying "You're right. I'm a failure. Take me now."

I have been doing that for two years now. Sure I go through the steps to cope. I have a therapist, I have a psychiatrist, I went through the plethora of pills, I have a service dog. I can function, I can go to the grocery store. But I can't spend a single night without crying, I can't pick up a pencil without shaking and wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do now. I can't sit there and plan for my future because I have let the depression win.

So one night, I sat there and looked at myself and said  four little words. Just to myself, just for me, and just accepted them whole heartedly.

I am an artist.

I believe that, heart and soul. I believe that I was born an artist, I will always be an artist and nothing will ever make me as happy as I feel when I paint. So if I believe SO STRONGLY that I am an artist, then I need to believe that I can do it. There is an undeniable fact about artists, a fact that has been proven time and time again all through history. Artists create.

When an artist is tortured, they create art. When an artist is happy, they create art. When an artist is sad, they create art. When an artist is paid, they create art. When an artist is in love, they create art. When an artist is bored... they create art. They live and breathe art even if it doesn't seem like it. Even if scribbling on the back of a notepad is not art, it is. It is letting yourself go and creating.

But sometimes the artist gets so focused on the pain, on the business, on everything else, that they forget who they are. They forget they're an artist. They forget it's in their nature to draw, it's how they cope, how they express, who they are. It becomes too hard to draw then, because they think they aren't an artist. Why draw when it won't come out right? When it won't be good? Gone are the days when you would doodle a scribble on a napkin and no one knew if it was a dog or a cat or a space alien and you didn't care cause you were having fun. It has to be perfect because you're only an artist if you create perfect art. You're not an artist if you're not good enough, if you don't draw well enough, if you don't do it right. And then you don't do that right so you can't do anything right. It turns into an endless loop of failure and depression and self criticism that cuts you to the core and affects everything that you do, think, feel. And you stop thinking you're an artist, you start thinking you used to be an artist. But now you're a slacker, because if you were an artist you'd be good enough. And you aren't good enough to be an artist.

And that is so wrong.

You are an artist because you create. That is all.

Not because you've hit an epic level of perfection. Not because you draw a little better then someone else. Not because you make a masterpiece. Not because of ANY bar except for one. You create. You, my dear, are an artist.

So go ahead, draw through the pain. Go ahead, just grab a pencil and SCRIBBLE WITH RAGE on the paper, it's okay. It doesn't have to be of anything, it doesn't have to be good enough, it doesn't have to meet deadlines or be appropriate for all viewers or even be good enough to show your dog. Just do it, scribble and remember who you are. Scratch and draw and pound the clay if that's the type of art you do. Don't care if it takes shape or form, don't care if it works or just looks like a scribble.

It's okay. You're an artist. Create. Let it come.

Eventually depression won't win anymore, and you'll keep that part of your soul that's uniquely you. Eventually you'll be able to draw more then just angry scratches on paper. Or mindless drawings of eyes crying. Or that same face over and over again. Eventually you'll remember you're an artist and you are capable of so much.

And that is what I tell myself every time I pick up a pencil and my hand shakes and the tears start. And then I draw.