{Heads up: there’s swearing in this post. I don’t often swear online, but sometimes the topic requires it. ;)}
After I returned from the epic road trip last month, I found myself swept up in an unexpected period of hardcore creativity with an intensity that’s unusual even for me.
For about two weeks I needed less sleep, stopped reading or watching anything, and was laser-beam-focused on making. I needed zero downtime. I ‘lost’ a whole week and even now couldn’t tell you what exactly happened. More accurate perhaps to say that I lost myself for a week, in the best possible way.
Part of it was due to starting the 100 Day Project, and part of it was catalysed by the trip. Suddenly everything became about upgrading on every level – my work, my offerings, my art – and it was as though the path had been cleared so it could happen very fast and intensively.
I started cleaning and refining the website, making things easier and more visually appealing to use for visitors, updating posts and making things more consistent.
I found myself diving into new ideas and plans for expanding my visibility, in particular using Pinterest and Instagram.
I started writing a new course that’s been percolating in me for a couple of years {more on that soon!}.
I lived and breathed creation. Even my dreams at night changed.
So, you know, intense! I loved every second of it. I wished it could be like that all the time, even while knowing that wouldn’t happen or be sustainable. That feeling of focus and infinite creative potential is intoxicating.
And then it went away.
Of course I’ve been here many times. The frenzy followed by the dip. The euphoria that has to give way to the calm.
I used to worry it was ominously significant, which is hilarious really, given that it’s woven into the fabric of who I am.
Anyway, I felt the wave cresting and then starting to fold, and I tried to stay conscious of it as part of the cycle and not start labelling it as something I didn’t like, or ‘shouldn’t’ be happening.
Which kind of worked, but not entirely.
I noticed a little of the energy had gone out of the online and course creating. And then it dropped off in the studio. That was the kicker.
There just isn’t anything quite like experiencing flow in the studio for me. Perhaps because it’s not a daily occurrence so I want to hold onto it when it happens, which of course is the best way to chase it away.
Where I’d been putting brush {or charcoal, or oil bars} to canvas and finding every mark coming out as if preordained, suddenly it felt sticky and slow; each thing I did looked and felt wrong. It started to get more and more frustrating.
I began to feel a bit resentful of the 100 Day Project, in spite of the fact that it was my choice to do it!
Then I started feeling like I just couldn’t remember how to paint, and became frustrated with the awkwardness of every mark and the complete loss of flow.
That’s when I made the discovery that creative frustration is an absolute gift.
I knew this before really, but it carried a new clarity this time around, one that I think will stand me in good stead. I would be right there in the thick of it, getting more and more frustrated, and I’d reach a point I started calling the ‘fuck it point’.
You’re probably familiar with it. 😉 In your head it sounds something like, “Oh for fuck’s sake, this is a disaster, I’m shit at art, I can’t do this, what happened to all that flow last week? What is going on?! Why don’t I know what to do? Why isn’t this fun any more? Waaaaa.”Â
And then just at the crescendo, I’d stop caring. What I was doing would be so uncomfortable and unpleasing to me I’d tip over the edge into, “Well I might as well just do a big swipe across here now since it’s all gone to shit and can’t get any worse”.Â
And I’d start making bolder marks and more reckless choices, using the energy generated by the release of caring any more what happened.
And then – surprise; I’d make something I liked, or I’d discover a new-to-me mark, or have a new idea, or it would just start to fall together and the feeling of flow would begin to return.
In a way this is all rather obvious.
But at the same time I think we come across opportunities to learn repeatedly, and it can sometimes take many times for it to finally drop through and integrate. This was a drop through moment for me.
It doesn’t mean I’ll now always feel zen about the frustration! But it is a new tool, and a powerful one.
The work I’ve been making since discovering what happens on the other side of the fuck it point has been satisfying and interesting in both process and outcome in new ways for me.
New ideas are coming in, and although I’m not back in the Creative Intensity Zone, enough flow returned that I’m cruising at an even pace right now, and enjoying the challenges the frustration brings.
I’m calling that a win.
What do you do with creative frustration? Has anything interesting happened on the other side of it for you? Tell me in the comments!
I still haven’t figured out a way to deal with the lows of my creative process (and life), so hearing how others do it is very helpful.
I’m still not sure whether it’s best to take a break, or keep working. Sometimes one works better than the other, and knowing which one is tricky!
(I was totally imagining you swearing with a British accent as I was reading this, and it was the best.)
That made me laugh so much Nela! Brilliant. 😀
Totally get what you’re saying about knowing when to push and when it’s actually a sign of needing a break. Thinking about that as I type… for me it’s a distinct difference in feeling. I just know inside myself when I’m at that barrier point; perhaps there’s a little tinge of curiosity in it? And a detachment from what happens if I do keep going, ‘so I might as well just do something dramatic, and if that doesn’t work I’ll take a break’. That feels different to me from the feeling that I’m really actually over it and need to replenish myself elsewhere, even if just to go and make a coffee, or something longer. That probably doesn’t help you at all because it’s such a subtle and unique-to-the-artist thing!
I am so amazed by the fact that you know yourself so well Tara. You have the gift of self-observation, which isn’t easy to come by. I cannot say that I have so obvious ups and downs when creating (or wherever in life). But I totally agree with you on that when I come to the fuck-it-stage good things usually happen. I let go of something that isn’t working inspite the fact that I have tried time and again. And when all the expectations of how it should be are cast away THEN comes a time of flow. So, caring too much, or wanting to control almost always leads to the f-word ????
F-stage is not that bad. It can be a resignment in a positive way (then I want to keep on painting) or a negative way (I usually want to throw away the canvas and not even painting over it works). But that happens very very seldom.
Ah thank you Gina! I can tell you it’s taken many years of intensive inner work! It’s true for me too now you’ve pointed it out that the fuck it principle {it now has a fancy term! lol} operates everywhere in my life. We spend so much time ‘trying’ to let go, which of course doesn’t work; it’s like sleeping. It just happens {when we let go!}. And then on the other side of that is where the good stuff often lies! I wonder if in a way it’s actually necessary to struggle in order to reach that point sometimes, because there are so many lessons to learn from it.
Thank you . I thought I was just not as good as others doing artwork because it didn’t come so easy or not at all. Now when I don’t like my work, I leave it and walk away from the drawing or painting. I think of the AA saying this too will pass and someone said to me emotions are like the clouds passing by. Gray on day fluffy and bright the next. I pick up my sketchbook and look at artists work I admire . After looking awhile I get inspired again. I like a certain shape or line. I put in my sketchbook and just write about whatever comes to mind. Danny Gregory says we all have a monkey on our back that’s telling you it’s a piece of shit. Why are you wasting your time. Get a real job. Turn away from the monkey.
I find starting a newpiece or reworking an old one and saying to myself I don’t like that 1st paining now so set it by for now saying I’ll get back to you. Sorry if I don’t ,ale sense .
Thanks for stopping by Sheryl! I agree that walking away can help with perspective and seeing the work afresh. For me that’s not the same as reaching the fuck it point and pushing beyond, but it’s a very subtle difference and one I find hard to explain! So many twists and turns on the artist path!
Wow yes – this article is SUCH a creative truth! You really hit the nail on the head with ‘reckless choices’. I have been down this road, just about every time I’m in the studio. Of hating/loathing my work and myself, then making these ‘bolder’ choices and suddenly loving it. It’s so emotionally draining and empowering all at the same time. Great post!
Glad you could relate to it Katie! Or rather, glad for the artist solidarity, not that you have this experience! 😉 It can be quite the rollercoaster, but I’m almost always glad to have got through to the other side. I think it’s a great way to develop your work actually.
It’s another way to let go of expectations ????????
Yes it is!
I really love how you have put this image of a wave in my head now – and it is really apt, coming from you. It IS like that, exactly like that. I’m in a low at the moment. Coming off the high of my course, all these huge plans of what I was going to do immediately after have led to exactly zilch. I wonder if exhaustion can play a part too – after a week like that you must have needed rest. Physically and mentally. But I’m thinking back to a moment like that at school – frustration at feeling not as good as the kids led to just such a moment and I then produced one of my favourite pieces of the entire course. I will have to remember and perhaps even aim to get to that point.
Hi Carmen – that’s so funny, I don’t think I really even realised I was writing about waves! Although I do often notice nautical metaphors popping up in my writing. Anyone would think I was obsessed. 😉
I can so relate to what you’re saying about the crash after the high of the course! Don’t give yourself a hard time about the plans not going anywhere yet. You’ve just spent several months absorbing a huge amount of new information, and that needs time to be fully integrated. I haven’t fully integrated Cornwall yet, and I’ve been back over a month. {Wha…?!} Give yourself time, and you’ll see things start to evolve and develop. In my experience this integration period – while sometimes frustrating and even a bit boring or disappointing – is a crucial part of the cycle. And really, huge kudos for doing that course at all! You must’ve learned so much. And yes, I’m almost actively encouraging the fuck it point now. 😉
Oh boy, so true! Trying to control quick drying of acrylic with what I had planned in my head but gave up with a similar expletive to produce a much more interesting and unplanned piece.
Yes I know there are mediums & flow extenders but it was STILL drying too fast – give me oils anyday.
My conclusion: acrylics – for speed painting
Hi Rhonda! Your comment made me smile. 🙂 It’s true – our materials also play a part in the process and the kind of impact that has on us. I like to paint fast so acrylics suit me but I love your point about how oils can work in our process in a different way.
Hi Tara. I was sent this post via pinterest by another artist.
I’ve always referred to the creative curse as riding a wave. Even though I don’t surf. But the analogy works for me. It’s taken many, many years to be ok that there will be awesome waves and days of flat, lifeless seas.
I’ll have days where I’ll feel so empowered and full of energy ( riding the big wave) and then Smack! I’ll fall face first into the water. And won’t find another wave like that for awhile. Then there will be days where the waves are good but i have to share them with others ( i.e my family commitments, children’s demands etc) that’s where i get all resentful even though i love them.
And days where the waves look way too dangerous for me to be on…. doubt and fear of being an artist.
And days where the waves are average yet I seem to be content with how I am going.
So I’ve learnt that the cycle is always going to be there. It’s never going to be constant. I just have to adapt and accept the changes in the waters. After riding the big wave and falling off I try to appreciate that i had an amazing moment whilst in it.
If I have to share a wave every now and then, it will make me a better person not a better artist.
If there aren’t any waves, I swim or snorkel or walk along the beach happy kust be be thinking about the water… ie I investgate, explore, read without trying to necessarily finish a masterpiece. Anyway I have rambled on. But it’s recognising the changes and cycles and working out how to be at peace with all the stages. Thanks for writing this. I’ll explore your posts more. Years ago I blogged regularly then had a big break. Instagram took over I guess. Im just returning to the process of blogging now. Good for the soul.
Hi Tiel – how lovely to find your comment here as a long time admirer of your work! I always love a good wave analogy. 🙂 You describe the different sea conditions so well! I agree it’s about being in a state of constant adjustment, like planes that are in a constant state of course correcting and never actually rigidly on course. Really enjoyed reading your thoughtful comment, thanks for stopping by!