This past winter I had my head in a space of despair: what should I do with my life?
The howl of our times.
I had been on my path to art for four years and a half. I was still dabbling left and right, trying and testing different watercolors, papers, brushes. I was still wondering what I wanted to create. I could see my improvement and the piles of artwork that I was cranking out but still felt directionless.
At one point I found an old acquaintance with whom I had a consultation call. She used to be an online entrepreneur but now she was in academia. She was doing her PhD and she had basically erased her online presence. She was now under the “protected” roof of a University. She was exploring abstract concepts and spending her days experimenting and creating. She had no more worries about selling her work, being perceived as “an artist”, she didn’t need social media, or even a website. Earlier she’d given an interview on one of those podcasts for creatives and she basically outlined how disenchanted she had become with the whole online entrepreneurship.
She decided to go back to Art School.
At the same time a friend told me she had enrolled in a BA in English Literature. She’s my age and when she told me I melted into a pile of green goo of envy. So what did I do? I applied to art school.
I built my portfolio, I went to their open house, I had encouraging words from someone in the faculty. I applied, uploaded my work and I didn’t get accepted.
I remember I was at the beach in Mexico with my parents and my husband. Getting the letter was devastating. I was in paradise, yet I had been annihilated by a rejection letter.
I thought, “I can’t continue to trick myself into thinking I’m an artist. I have no structure, I don’t know what I’m doing. In Art School I was supposed to learn how to build a body of work, I was going to make the right connections. I was going to learn everything to be a legitimate artist. I was going to get access to grants and residencies and all the rest. Now what?”
I was in the midst of my crisis when my dad told me: I think applying to art school was a crutch. You wanted the illusion of “going somewhere” but at the end you would be exactly where you are now because you don’t want to do the work you need to do.” “You didn’t really want to go to Art School”
He verbalized a truth that I have been avoiding.
I keep believing that going to Art School (or getting an MFA in whatever discipline) would give me legitimacy. Doors would open.
But in the end, I was going to pay a lot of money, invest several years of my life pursuing something that:
- Would cause me stress. I am not a person who feels at ease in a school environment
- No amount of studying would substitute the tried and proven method of becoming and artist, which is making A LOT of art until you find your voice.
When lost, we want to get somewhere
Us multi-passionates tend to think that outside structure will help us get to where we want. I’ve always given too much weight to formal education because it was important in my family. I tend to feel respect for “titles” because they carry a lot of weight in my culture.
I did a lot of thinking about why I had applied to the program and I concluded it was good old fear. I couldn’t decide on a course of action and I just kept piling ideas, possible projects, wants, needs and a whole lot of pressure to my IDEA of being an artist.
I was choking my art practice with a bunch of preconceived notions.
Then I ran into this question:
What makes you get up in the morning?
I get up in the morning because of possibility.
The possibility that at 7:30 in the morning nothing exist and by the end of the day I will have drawings, paintings, sketches, writings that came from my hand and my head.
It’s this open possibility that fulfills me.
Art School or not, if I focus on how each morning I can’t wait to get into my studio and let the different art materials pull me, I know I’m on the right path.
If you go into Art School with fear that without it you won’t get to where you want, I would try to ask myself a lot of questions. The famous five why’s would be a good start. Ask why five times and see what comes up.
If that’s been your plan all along and you’re sure, then go happily, but if you’re trying to get out of your hamster wheel and into an external source of purpose I might challenge it.
So, what makes you get out of bed every morning?