This week, I got an email from a reader called Melinda, who said that, all of a sudden, she couldn’t see the point of making art.
It made me think about what happens when our reasons for making art are external ones.
If you make art for praise, what happens when nobody says anything? If you make it for sales, what happens when people love what you’re doing but can’t afford to buy it? If you make it for respect, what happens when your painting is rejected for a big show?
The truth is, all of that is totally out of our control. You could make the best painting of your life and get absolutely nothing back from the world. Does that mean it was pointless?
I love selling paintings. I love it when someone truly connects with my work. But there are always going to be stretches when very little comes back. There are always going to be times when nothing sells, or even times when people don’t much like what you’re making. That’s when you really need to have internal reasons for creating, reasons that come from within you and have nothing to do with anyone else.
I got a little reminder of my reasons this week when I ran out of heating oil and the temperature in my studio dropped from “cosy and comfortable” to “freezing.”
I’m a wimp about being cold, so I stayed out of the studio. I quite enjoyed the first few days. I did some chores, ran some errands and edited a video, but by Thursday I was truly jonesing for a painting fix. I went into the studio in a coat, hat, scarf and gloves, and lasted about an hour before my hands stopped moving.
(Those who go to work in an unheated studio, I salute you!)
I knew things were getting bad on Wednesday night. I’m on my fifth or sixth rewatch of the Gilmore Girls, and I actually got weepy about Luke and Lorelai breaking up. I know they’re not real people! You can see things were taking a turn for the worse.
The truth is that I need to paint. And it doesn’t take long for my mood to go downhill if I can’t do it.
So, after Thursday’s failed attempt to paint in warm clothes, I brought some watercolours up to the house and made some drawings in my sketchbook. There was no reason for those drawings and no chance of external validation for them. I just needed to spend some time being creative. As soon as I had filled the first page, I felt my mood lift. It felt as if my world came back into balance.
I’ve loved making things since I was a child. It still amazes me that you can sit down with just a pencil and a piece of paper and make something that didn’t exist before. And I love the puzzle of painting; I can be thoroughly stuck with a piece and still be dying to know what would happen if I covered up that one bit or changed that colour.
I also really love the way art-making quietens down my brain. I tend to worry and ruminate. I sometimes suffer from anxiety. But when I’m making my work, my mind is peaceful and that is such a gift.
None of these reasons for creating depend on outside validation - they are inherent in me. Creating is just part of who I am.
And this is what I would say to anyone who is questioning the purpose of making art. I think there has to be something in the process that you’d choose just for yourself, even if no-one else ever saw what you made.
For me it’s all that fiddling about and trying things, and getting properly interested in whether I can make something work. For you it might be the pleasure of drawing a face, or the way you feel about colour, or your love of clay.
If you’re asking yourself what the point is, I’d think back to the last time you truly enjoyed making something. What was it? What exactly were you doing? What was your frame of mind?
And I’d also think about the times you haven’t enjoyed it. What were you making? What was your frame of mind? Were you putting pressure on yourself? Were you pushing for a specific result and getting frustrated?
There will be a difference between the two and once you know what it is, you will be closer to knowing your reasons for making your work.
The bottom line is that the only reason to make art is because it fulfills you in some way. It doesn’t need to do any more than that. So choose the things you enjoy and do more of them. Drop anything that feels pressured. Make art for yourself and no-one else.
When you do that, the external things will follow. Some people will like what you made because it came from your heart. Some people might want to buy it for the same reasons.
But that external feedback won’t determine how you feel about yourself, or whether you make your next painting or not. Those things come from within you.
And if you find that you’d honestly rather be doing something else, I think that’s worth listening to as well. We only get so much time. Why spend yours making paintings you don’t particularly want to make, in the hope that somebody else will like them? You might as well do something you enjoy.
Life is just too short. It really is.