What are you afraid to admit?
I made a YouTube video this week that seems to have struck a chord. In its first three days, it’s had more views and comments than anything else I’ve made. (to watch you can click here).
The video is about how we can miss out on making our best art because we don’t allow ourselves to follow what we love. Then I read this comment:
“There are things I am scared to admit that I love, because no one around me understands.”
I can't stop thinking about this. It makes me so sad! Because I know how lonely it can feel to love something other people don't care about. I don't know anyone in real life who gets excited by the feel of old paper for example, or who understands spending a small fortune to buy an old ledger full of accounting records from the 1800s.
But isn’t that what we do as artists? We notice something that other people might walk straight past, and we say, “Look at this. Can you see what I see?”
To me this is the sole reason we exist. Whether we paint pictures or write novels or make music, artists are here to illuminate the way. We're here to make people feel less alone, to make them feel seen, or to show them things they missed.
But that becomes impossible if we’re ashamed of what we notice. If we dismiss the things that move us, we may never make the work that could help others understand.
And yet, many of my Youtube commenters were expressing exactly the sentiment if the person I quoted. To repeat what she said:
“There are things I am scared to admit that I love, because no one around me understands.”
There are a few things to unpick here.
First, there's our automatic tendency to downplay our own importance. This can apply to anyone, but I do think women lean more in this direction than men. For those of us who are 50 or older, we were raised to believe we were less important than men, and that programming is very difficult to shift in later life. Especially if we don't even realise it's there.
The truth is that your fascinations are just as valid as anyone else's and also, they are never unique. If you love something, so do other people. There is an audience for everything, no matter how weird or niche it might be.
(I am reminded of a gay friend, who once told me about websites where you can buy used socks from other men. I mean come on! If there are people who will pay money for dirty socks, there are definitely people who will like your art!).
But something else struck me about the comment and that is "no one around me understands.”
I think for many artists this is true and has probably always been true. I know I spent a large part of my life denying my true self in order to fit in with those around me. I always felt different from my family and even from my friends, so I simply buried all the bits that didn't seem to belong.
That only changed when I finally found online art communities. That was 9 years ago. All of a sudden, I realised there were other people who saw the world the way I did. I wasn't weird and I wasn't wrong - I was just an artist. No wonder I felt so constrained in all those other roles!
I am still surrounded by people who don't understand me. People who jokingly roll their eyes or tease me about my latest obsession. But I have also built a network of people who DO get me. I have found other artists to talk to, and collectors who want to own the things I make. And anyone can do the same.
And we MUST! I strongly believe than if we can't honour own passions, interests and beliefs, we have nothing to offer with our art. We are left making things based on what others care about and, as a result, the art feels empty. It doesn't move anyone. It doesn't say anything. It doesn't change anyone.
So I am going to close with a question for you: what do you love that you’ve been a little afraid to admit to? And what might happen if you gave it some space in your work?