Last week was the start of an art course; the focus for week 1 was all around self / spirit, which really forced us to all take a deeper look inside. I’m a fairly introspective person as it is, but there is a difference, at least for me, to thinking certain thoughts as opposed to writing them down. There seems to be a much more intimate relationship with words once they are formulated into coherent sentences, staring you back in the face, versus the fleeting thoughts that bounce in and out as quick as lightning. The experience really allowed for a more thoughtful connection to how I really look and view important things like: success, wealth, courage, shame and self-image.

Full on recognition is the first step in exorcising the negative, right?! It was hard to write some of this down, I must admit. I like to believe that I am an optimistic and confident person…and I am most of the time. But we all have our pitfalls, moments laced with insecurity and uncertainty. It’s human nature.

The biggest one for me, that I will declare and then wash free, is how I let others define my self worth. There I said it! It sounds ridiculous to even see it written down. Trying to get down to the root of the matter, I believe this falls into a couple of different camps:

The most obvious reason….my art work is personal. For most artists, we pour our heart and souls into our art. Often times they are self-reflections, visual diaries, raw and naked in all their glory. I’m sharing some of the most personal inner workings of my psyche, opening the door for ridicule. Naturally, when I expose this part of myself, I take the chance that it might not be well received. Ultimately, however, I’m attempting to find a connection with others, that spark of relativity showing that we all experience the good and the bad of what life has to offer. We are not alone in our emotions. So I suppose it’s not a far mental jump for someone to look at my work, not like what they see, and then I connect the dots and assume they must not like me as a person. Again, it sounds ludicrous to say it….which leads me to my second point.

I’m a High I on the Disc profile, an ENFP on Meyer’s Briggs and empathy comes in as my top personality trait on the Gallup Strengths Finder test. What does this mean? I’m very much an empathetic people person; an open book, a peace-maker. My first inclination is to say yes to everything. I want everyone to exist in a happy bubble and god forbid if I have anything to do with their misery.  BUT…I can’t make everyone happy. That’s a pipe dream. Some people are inherently miserable, and by choice. The biggest problem with this mindset is the sudden pull to change who I am to make others happy. This comes at a heavy price, sacrificing who I am to make someone else feel better is a complete disservice to myself. Relating this back to my work, I’ve had reviewers tell me to be careful my work isn’t too cutesy. Be careful my work isn’t too dark. Try not to manipulate colors this way; keep it more natural. Focus more on this type of work that isn’t so digitally manipulated. I even had one reviewer tell me he didn’t like one piece, it was his least favorite of them all. The very next reviewer turned around and told me the same piece was his favorite. I wish I was kidding! I could spin myself in circles trying to mold my ideas, thoughts and visions into what others thought and end up with art that doesn’t speak in my voice, isn’t authentic and is trying to be something it’s not. It’s just not worth it.

I’ll spare the remaining details on this come-to-Jesus talk with myself. Just know that I wrote down as unnecessary baggage – To stop letting what others think about my work tie into my sense of self. 

Poof – out into the verse it goes.

The very next day I was met with a challenge. It reminds me of a scene in Evan Almighty when Lauren Graham’s character was having a conversation with Morgan Freeman, acting as God, pretending to be a waiter. She’s perplexed as she watches her husband turn into a walking rendition of Noah as he attempts to build an ark for the impending flood. She asks for courage. Morgan Freeman’s response was:

“Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?”

So I laugh at this…as the very next day an email arrives in my inbox. Coincidence? I think not! It was of the rejection flavor. I knew these were coming; in fact, I had sent out several inquiry emails in the previous two weeks. This particular gallery was one I had my eye on for awhile. The owner previously expressed interest in my work so I was hopeful, perhaps too hopeful, that this interaction would bear fruit. Such was not the case.

Rule No. 1 – always approach galleries with little to no expectations!

I’m reading this email and it appeared to follow a formula to previous rejections. It was like the critique sandwich one receives in the corporate world – I’m going to tell you how beautiful your work is, I’m going to state a reason why I’m not accepting you without actually saying no, leaving it somewhat ambiguous, and then thank you again. Clearly artists are notorious for having delicate and fragile egos that the mere reference to the word no or you’re not a good fit would spiral us into a deep-rooted depression. I promise, I would much rather receive the direct comment so I could move on. Instead I’m left attempting to dissect the email like I did back in the day whilst in the dating world pondering all the excuses as to why the phone wasn’t ringing…

Luckily, I did recognize the situation as a gift, an opportunity to overcome letting others dictate my self worth. I admit, the struggle toggled on and off for a day or so before I was able to release it. Since then, I’ve received another rejection email…good practice for growing those rejection muscles. That one didn’t even hurt…that much. Thank you, universe, for the practice.

On to the next.

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