Do you know these tiny voices in your head, full of criticism and doubt? I do.
Inspired by last weeks post I introduce myself as an artist when I meet new people in the Backpacker hostels. I want to share with you how that feels.
The first time I blushed after saying the magical words "I am an artist". The voices in my head shouted in protest: Who do you think you are? You are not an artist. Artists are these few special people on earth. Artists are outgoing creatures with an extravagant flaire. They talk full of confidence about their new art project, leaving just mortals behind flabbergasted. Artists make critical, meaningful, expensive art to hang in a museum. I am not like this.
The voice in my head goes on: Real artists are strong personalities, they've survived art school! In art school they managed to pass the multiple application exams to get accepted. They struggled through devastating feedback and endless criticism. They learned to present themselfes and competed with their fellow artists (instead of learning to collaborate) in this hard world of art, fighting for money and appreciacion.
Again, that's not me. Art school is nothing for my soft soul. Even if I'd love to have more knowledge about composition, techniques and constructive feedback from an expert. But not in art school, this ambience would have broken my heart.
I have to confess: I am not a typical artist as described above. I make feelgood art, not shocking or with a political statement. I paint and draw because the process of doing it makes me happy. When I paint, I relax. I meditate. I dance. I sing. I cry. I heal myself. I get motivated to be the best version of myself. I feel good. During the process of making art I change from within, getting more passionate, peaceful and compassionate. So you could say, through my own positive change, I change the world with my art. If people see this hidden process in the result, they want to connect with its positive vibe.
Inspired by last weeks post I introduce myself as an artist when I meet new people in the Backpacker hostels. I want to share with you how that feels.
The first time I blushed after saying the magical words "I am an artist". The voices in my head shouted in protest: Who do you think you are? You are not an artist. Artists are these few special people on earth. Artists are outgoing creatures with an extravagant flaire. They talk full of confidence about their new art project, leaving just mortals behind flabbergasted. Artists make critical, meaningful, expensive art to hang in a museum. I am not like this.
The voice in my head goes on: Real artists are strong personalities, they've survived art school! In art school they managed to pass the multiple application exams to get accepted. They struggled through devastating feedback and endless criticism. They learned to present themselfes and competed with their fellow artists (instead of learning to collaborate) in this hard world of art, fighting for money and appreciacion.
Again, that's not me. Art school is nothing for my soft soul. Even if I'd love to have more knowledge about composition, techniques and constructive feedback from an expert. But not in art school, this ambience would have broken my heart.
I have to confess: I am not a typical artist as described above. I make feelgood art, not shocking or with a political statement. I paint and draw because the process of doing it makes me happy. When I paint, I relax. I meditate. I dance. I sing. I cry. I heal myself. I get motivated to be the best version of myself. I feel good. During the process of making art I change from within, getting more passionate, peaceful and compassionate. So you could say, through my own positive change, I change the world with my art. If people see this hidden process in the result, they want to connect with its positive vibe.
Dream and give yourself permission to envision a you that you choose to be.– Joy Page
I try to remind myself (and my inner critic) to let go of social expections. And even more of the expectations I created for myself. To accept and let go these over-critical voices.
What does your inner critic tell you? And what is your answer to it?
Big hug, Lisa
What does your inner critic tell you? And what is your answer to it?
Big hug, Lisa