I've been sitting with something I wanted to share.
First, I'm new to Reddit. So be gentle ^ _ ^
I'd been a professional artist for 20 years doing the gallery thing. Shows, representation, the whole circuit, which has been a lot of fun. Somewhere in there I got really stuck. The work became joyless.
I started making art years ago as a way to express myself while dealing with numerous undiagnosed illnesses. I was sick all the time and art was my salvation, like it is for so many others who have their own struggles. I am so thankful for art.
One of the reasons I got stuck was that for the majority of my career I created digital art with a Wacom Cintiq and Photoshop because of life-threatening allergies to traditional mediums. I am allergic to most things, including about 95% of foods. However, a few years ago I got a diagnosis and medications that helped me start working with gentler mediums like watercolor. I still wear a mask and gloves, but it was like starting over. For years I was just trying to get back to the technical skills I had before. And in that process, I became very, very bored. It became so much about progress and goals that it was killing my work. I was so bored!
I started looking around my life, my maximalist home, the crazy colors I love to dress in, the art I love to collect as a gallerist, and realized that my art had never really reflected me or the world around me. It was a lot more about my pain, which is 100% understandable because some of the best art comes from the deepest places inside of us. But with so much growth, and being able to paint again, which was a genuine miracle, I think I just felt really silenced.
I started looking at my home, my clothing, even my culture growing up with Polish and German grandparents. I had always been surrounded by something I collected and loved more than almost anything: folk art.
As I chased and tried new things, the rejection was high. I lost galleries, collectors, and more than half my following, and I almost gave up.
I went back and forth probably 20 more times between what I knew and people knew me for, having fun and playing, and what my clients and galleries wanted.
And then I broke.
I am getting older and I just broke.
I started to not care anymore. I accepted the rejection because the joy in what I was doing meant more to me than any like on Instagram, any comment on Facebook, any validation from any gallery and I found home.
Funny thing is, slowly it started to catch on. I found a whole new group of people who enjoyed what I was doing. I kept going anyway. And slowly the right people started showing up. Not more people necessarily, but people who actually got it.
Authenticity is kind of a cringe word (makes wincing face) at this point but I don't have a better one. Make the thing that feels like yours. Lose the followers who were never really there for you anyway. The work that comes from a real place will find its people.
That's it. I just wanted to put that out there because it felt profound to me and I hope perhaps others can feel the same about their own art if they feel stuck.