Skip to main content

Art Versus Artist

Cassie Bell is an artist on Etsy who creates beautiful beaded sun catchers and silk velvet stuffed cats. I own four of her pieces now -- two of each -- and if I didn't watch myself I'd probably spend all my money at her shop. There's something about what she creates that speaks to me. She captures light. She sculpts velvet. What an amazing aesthetic she has.

I don't know what to call my own art. I've never thought much about what it is, other than many things and all over the place. It certainly makes me happy. I just do it and hope that, whatever I create, the love and care I pour into it comfort and entertain and inspire someone else. I'm not important, really. For me the art is what matters. The people who buy or receive it are, too. If I can say this without sounding like an idiot, it's not personal to me. My self-esteem is not based on my art.

There is no right or wrong attitude toward your art; there's only what inspires and motivates you. Some folks need it to be about themselves rather than the joy of creation or giving or contributing some beauty to the world. I'm not like that, probably because there was no one but me involved in my artistic development until I turned pro.

Here's what I've observed over the years I've been a professional writer and amateur quilter: when art is more about the artist than what they create or the people they create it for, then the artist ends up disappointed and unhappy. When I realized this, it finally made sense of why so many creative types -- no matter how gifted they are -- become so miserable. It becomes all about them, and everything involved in the art does become very personal and directly affects the self-esteem. Over time the art dwindles away or becomes painful or even impossible to create. Not judging, mind you -- I've just seen this happen over and over again.

So today's thought is to take the artistic ego out of the equation and just let your art be your art. Find a way to do what you love, love what you do, and share it with the world whenever and however you can. I think you'll probably be much happier. :)

Comments

nightsmusic said…
Those cats are wonderful but I still say the quilt behind them is stunning.

I do art or drawing or writing or quilting or any number of other things because it makes me happy. I don't really care what others think (though I suspect, if I were published, I'd have to care from a sales perspective.) Sadly, too many people find their worth in what they do rather than who they are.

Popular posts from this blog

Old Loves & Such

My guy kindly bought me my favorite Chinese take out the other night, and my fortune cookie offered up an interesting story starter: This sounds sweet, right? Only the first thing I thought of was an old love coming back from the dead . . . . must be October. In other lovely news, my favorite hand-dyed thread artist, Lorraine from Colour Complements , is moving her business from Etsy to her own web site. Many of my favorite sellers on Etsy are leaving due to the whole "free shipping" coercion debacle, which has also soured me on the site. To show support I did a little shopping at Lorraine's web site and got in these: I love her threads and trims; you simply can't buy anything like them anywhere. Her work makes my specialty thread box look like a treasure chest: At night I'm spending just as hour working on quilting the scrap project runner, and I'm making slow progress: I'll keep quilting the runner while I try to decide on a design for t...

Fell Off the Wagon

I did cut up that plastic dollar tote to make into something stronger, but got caught up with work and set it aside. Then last night some hand-dyed silk and pretty threads called my name, and, well . . . Felt SO good to do some handwork, except my neck began hurting about an hour into it. I tried changing the way I sit and work, but it's pretty obvious that the doc is right.

T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...