It feels like a good time of year to be really vulnerable and honest. Maybe it's the short, dark days, the desire for annual reflection, or maybe it's the ridiculous cloud cover we've had in our normally sunny spot, but my mind has been drifting towards the funk lately. Specifically the art funk.
I've learned a little about perception this year. I have some wonderful friends who treat me like a mini-celebrity and I've noticed that the friends they introduce to me also treat me that way. In an unrelated weird moment this year, a grown adult person stood in front of me and said that they were having a "fan-girl" moment about meeting me in real life. What the actual heck?
Over my years of teaching I've almost gotten used to students who say they were scared to take my class or that they were intimidated by me. I remember being intimidated by my professors before I knew them but honestly I still chalk most of my students' misguided fears up to the fear of power tools and welding rather than of me. Still, when I was interviewed for a student-run magazine this semester, the very first question was about me being intimidating and it was asked by a student who had taken my class at least twice. Again, what the heck?
Outside perception is often (always) erroneous. We say this like we know it to be true and then we flick through Instagram and marvel at how wonderful some stranger's life seems. I suppose this could happen with me if you looked at my Instagram and really, that's mostly how we "know" people these days, right? It's definitely a highlight reel of my life. I looked. There are lots of drawings and sculptures that I'm proud of. There are images of fun and cool things I got to do. There are images of my family. My dogs. Lots of running stuff.
Do you know what you don't see on my Instagram? You don't see the pep talks I have to give to myself before walking into a social event. You don't see the immature fit of rage when it's the last straw of the day. You don't see the lack of confidence I can have in myself. You don't see the sinking feeling of hearing a student is talking trash about you. You don't see the moments of extreme frustration when you wonder if anything you do is worthwhile. Even though you don't see them, they're all there.
Recently I had a couple of days I can't really explain. I woke up, ran, had coffee and watched as a terrible mood settled over me. I felt zero confidence. I think I was up to about 9 art rejections in a row at that time. I thought about my calendar and realized I currently have no exhibits scheduled. Who knows if I'll even be able to draw or sculpt anything good ever again? The semester was ending in a chaotic roar of critiques and trying to help students and I tried to check my course evaluations only to find that so few of my students actually did them that there were no results to view. I taught 11 or 12 courses this semester. Not one of them had an evaluation for me to view. Over the last couple of months I watched my always awesome, always healthy favorite aunt wither away and die. On this particular day I forgot for a millisecond that she was dead and thought that I would see her at the Christmas party.
There was no Instagram post to document this. I sometimes forget that I spend a lot of time in my head. The continuous narrative in there isn't audible to other humans. What I feel and what I really think - other people don't get that unless I tell them. They just see the running photo and think "That crazy McAbee is out running in the cold again". They don't see the funk that's just as fast as me.
The gap between perception and reality is Grand Canyon-ish in size. That's something we could all stand to remind ourselves of on a regular basis.
Speaking of reminders, I did get out from under the funk. The cool art writer Austin Kleon recommends that artists keep a computer folder of successes and good things so that when they have a funky day, they can open that folder and be reminded that they are not crap. I pass this advice along to my students each year because it's more than just a good way to get out from under the art funk. The way we talk to ourselves is important and if you ever find yourself saying negative things to yourself, I suggest you stop that nonsense immediately. C.S. Lewis wrote that we need to "constantly be reminded of what we believe". That's what self talk is. We are constantly reminding ourselves who we are and what we believe is true. Good or bad.
If I'm looking at 9 fresh rejections and wondering if I'm irrelevant, I'm defeated before I even start. But I can go to a file on a computer and see that I made a lot of stuff this year. I was in a lot of shows. I helped a lot of people. I made people smile. Then I can remember that what I do is important. I am reminded that this is the truth. This is who I am.
And today I got off my butt and finished a new sculpture. Maybe those 9 people didn't like my art but I can keep making more and increase my chances statistically, right? (I'm seriously asking, I got a mercy D in Statistics.)
Y'all be good to yourselves please. We're all out here counting on each other.
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