Reflections from the Studio #2: Faking it

I’m not as good as you think I am. I dread my paintings being exhibited: you’re going to see all my shortcomings and mistakes. I am not the person who should be doing this project. I’m glad I’m the only artist in the book, so there’s no one else to be compared with, because for sure I’ll be found out as not being a very good artist. I’m just faking it. 

These are just a few of the thoughts that I have to push away as I paint, pushing through the personal agony of the imposter syndrome. 

I am afraid to be judged, to be criticised, to be exposed and not approved of. 

Fear is a lousy employer. It sucks away motivation and narrows my world. Fear only takes, it cannot give, and it makes me question my identity, my talents, my dreams and my impetus. 

But beyond the self-absorbed ‘cons’ of allowing fear to dominate in my life, it steals from others. It drains my empathy, my willingness to reach out beyond myself, and think of others. I become more concerned about how I look than what difference I can make in the life of someone else, and I lose the connection of putting myself in someone else’s shoes and identifying with them. In short, it’s an adult version of a pity party. But a very sophisticated pity party.

Fear also robs me of quality in my work. It’s funny: the fear that I will not be good enough makes me less good. The all-consuming desire to be ‘a professional’ makes me more ‘amateur.’ When my mind is set on the good, the lovely, the whole, my painting improves. When I care less about my image and reputation, that energy is instead funnelled into higher thinking and better work. Using up less time and space thinking about myself helps me achieve the very goal that I cannot achieve if I am thinking about myself. How ironic.

Thoughts are powerful. I think there’s an infusion of thoughts into artworks that we are not quite able to quantify—maybe a topic for another day—and I want my thoughts set on higher, more beautiful topics. 

Allowing myself the freedom to simply paint does not mean that I do not have high standards and goals for my work. It is the balance of finding the freedom to push the limits of what I can do (while not settling for mediocre work,) with the freedom of accepting failure that is my struggle. And in between feels like I’m faking it. 

So now that I’m completely exposed, I’m going to step up to the easel and paint. Bravery, meet me at the canvas!