Dear Restless Creative, Have you Ever, Really, Roared?
Your Art Won't Wait. Start Here. Start Now.
How long have you been holding back your creativity from the world?
Has it been years? Or, like me, has it been an entire lifetime?
Since I was a little child, I wanted to be an artist. But I waited twenty-eight years to share my creative voice with anyone at all.
Though I had decades’ worth of sketchbooks and journals full of ideas, I was not a hidden artistic genius. My first art show was an absolute disaster.
After driving an hour to the gallery from work, I set up my six-foot section of white wall as quickly as possible before the first viewers strolled in. As I took a step back to see if the little scraps of paper taped to the wall just so, I realized I didn’t care anymore — because I desperately had to pee.
The galleries don’t have bathrooms, so I was told to walk three blocks to the nearest grocery store. Three blocks?! I didn’t have it in me. I stopped at an aquarium supply warehouse instead. In the bathroom, the walls moved with scurrying pale bodies and long naked tails. The tick-tack of hard limbs clattered across plastic cages as I gave my decision a second thought. But I didn’t have time to go anywhere else.
In that dirty bathroom filled with cages of mice and crickets — food for reptiles — I too, accepted that my art might also be eaten alive by judgement, disinterest, or even admiration.
When you put your art out there, it feels like you have become prey.
Why would anyone subject themselves to such terror? Who would want to be hunted down by criticism and the opinions of strangers?
I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed it badly. By pretending I wasn’t creative, by never speaking up or showing my work to anyone, I was building a dam that was trying to hold back a flood. Panic attacks and nightmares haunted me every day and night.
No amount of alcohol or Xanax could hold back the bad feelings I didn’t want to notice. Every bad decision I made took me farther away from my truth and the life I really wanted. I just couldn’t take it any more.
I knew if I never displayed my work, no matter how unpolished or shameful, I would try to end my life.
In hindsight, my early artwork was pretty bad. I painted the contents of my heart without a single care for the viewer. Women holding wine glasses who wanted something pretty and unique for their reading nook cringed as they continued on their way.
But as the showings went on week by week, I was able to improve my work a little bit at a time. I saw anger in my art and learned how to come to terms with the unfortunate events that had caused it. I dealt with the deep sadness of my family only after seeing it displayed uncomfortably on the wall and understanding that my perspective needed to be adjusted. Making art and displaying it was like the first time I had ever looked into a mirror.
In making the art more beautiful, I also worked on making the source of that art more beautiful. In time, I gained confidence. I was proud of my progress. I felt okay, even without drugs. For once in my life of yielding avoidance, I had actually roared.
Have you?
The voice inside you won't wait.
Your voice hungers to be heard and will gnaw at the gate like a demon until the words are spoken. It doesn’t care about your craft if you feel ready.
If you never start, you risk taping your own mouth shut and living a lifelong lie. The discomfort will plague your nights and you will always wonder if you could have done something more. You will grow increasingly numb and the ability to notice the sweetness in the air and the flowers in the wind will diminish. Your body will grow rigid and gnarled, and new life will never have sprung.
Make the art. Write the book. Sing the song. Tell someone you’re in love.
Only then does life begin. You can find your pack, improve your craft, speak your message, contribute to something greater. But remember: a single birth isn’t enough.
You will have to find the doggedness to keep going. You have to be painfully reborn, over and over again. Only by putting your work out there can you see where there is room to grow.
And when you’re dedicated to growth, there is no telling how far you will go or the people you will become.
Your life could be limitless. But it can only happen if you start now.
Leslie - I am so enjoying watching your work and your voice unfold. There is so much in this article that inspires me. I'm going to point to your article the next time someone says that they don't want to write about themselves because they think it's too narcissistic so they can see what it looks like to be deeply authentic and human and accomplish writing about all humans by being honest about oneself. This is my very favorite line, "In making the art more beautiful, I also worked on making the source of that art more beautiful." Just. Keep. Going. Loving your stuff!
This quote “making art and displaying it was like the first time I had ever looked into a mirror.” resonated deeply. It’s what makes me uncomfortable about writing - I feel my pain and traumas oozing between the lines. When I wrote my first article for WOP, I sensed the relief for letting some of that hurt out there into the world, it didn’t need to be stuck deeply in my heart anymore. This is a beautiful article and I could reread it five more times - each time I’ll find something else to connect with. I even saved the line “have you ever really roared” as a potential tattoo - I’ve been wanting one for a while, and this feels like a fit.
Thanks so much, Leslie.