Whether something feels inspiring or intimidating all depends on context. Not the outside kind of context- the context of your insides. If you arrive with glitter in your blood and feet firmly connected to the ground beneath you, you’ll most likely meet the work of others you admire with enthusiasm.
You’ll let yourself leapfrog off their creative brilliance, becoming allies in the act of making, picking up the golden thread of an idea they’ve offered and carrying the chain further into the world.
Their work births little thought-babies in you, gifting you the potential to ignite the same spark in someone else, regardless of whether the artist you’re delighting in knows you exist, or even whether they’re alive or long gone.
But if you’re feeling wobbly, those same sources of inspiration can slip into comparison and deflation. Intellectually, we might understand the futility of it, but practically- because we are alive and human-ing- we know the truth of that feeling.
It’s a delicate dance, this dance of creative exposure, especially in the age of the internet.
Because I’m in the midst of a big creative project right now, I’m being careful where I rest my eyeballs. I’m choosing to give my attention, more often than not, to what I call Slow Art.
Slow Art is the art that invites you into intimate conversation, where the only ones present are you and the object of your attention. It’s the gallery pieces, the books, the music- the things you can look at, read, or listen to and form your own opinion, without the likes, the comments, and the heaving, loaded threads.
At this point, while I’m untangling ideas and navigating thoughtscapes that don’t yet have clear beginnings, middles, or ends, the voice I most need to hear is my own intuition. It’s the voice of my creative ancestors dancing on my insides. Perhaps it’s even the silence- the space that allows ideas to form- that is most required right now.
When I consume too much online, my inner docking ports get cluttered. When I want to think further on an idea, all I can hear is the irate opinion of Gary from New York, offering his unwanted thoughts on politics and the role of women in climate change.
Be your own creative protector. Guard your heart and your inner resources. They are needed. And Gary, I’m afraid, is not