Today I started reading “Smarter Art Marketing” by Eric Rhoads. I’m 30 pages in and it’s already sent me down a rabbit hole of naval-gazing and meta-naval-gazing. Is that something? Either way, the concept of “Head Trash” is one that I’ve just started exploring with my therapist as well. But maybe not as deeply as I’d like? Clearly there’s room to dig deeper.
In other words, here are the thoughts that drag me down as an artist, as someone who wants to succeed.
Procrastination. This is a symptom, but of what? I’ve spent probably hundreds of hours of time reading about how to succeed, reading about how to build better habits, how to “mind-hack” my way into being more disciplined and diligent. How can I bootstrap myself into painting every day? It’s unclear if it has worked. I paint now more than I used to, but it feels like a roller coaster. Some days I spend 4-5 hours painting, and others I end up watching Youtube instead. If I tallied all my time spent reading self-help books and instead added that to my painting, I’d definitely be a lot better.
A “Mercenary Attitude.” I know an artist who I very much admire, who is (or appears to be) somewhat successful. She is trying to succeed in a very difficult market, making figurative, narrative, personal work, and trying to gain success through the fine art gallery scene (for lack of a better phrase). She manages this in a couple ways. She has created and runs two different teaching programs. These are attended by other strong artists, have guest teachers, have articles written about them. By creating projects that are bigger than herself, she can’t help but benefit financially. It’s an ongoing investment that will reap dividends for her personally (as well as enriching the lives of those who attach themselves to the programs). This also means she’s willing to invite those students to her solo opening. Having a packed solo opening is just good business sense. For some reason, I’m deeply uncomfortable with the idea that she’s using these students, students who paid thousands to attend the program, to benefit her personal career. But that’s how she operates. She’s willing to put herself and her career first. In a way that feels gauche, or problematic to me. And maybe that’s my problem. I use my cultural dislike of braggadocio to keep me from facing my fears. I fear that I will post “come buy this piece for $250” on my Instagram post, and that I’ll feel deeply ashamed when no-one does.
Investing. I know (some) of the things that I should invest time and money into, that would be of benefit to me. But I don’t invest, because I have a weird relationship with expenses like this. I spent $2500 on an educational program. I gave $200 away to a friend on a spur of the moment. But I can see that figuring out how to film myself painting could be a way to earn some extra money, but I haven’t done it. Why is that? because it feels intimidating and complicated? It triggers these feelings of thriftiness that are wholly imaginary.
Personal failings. I am not diligent or disciplined enough. I start projects and never finish them (like personal journalling on this blog post. I don’t have the capacity to work a 12 hour painting shift, like Scott Fischer does. And “knowing” this has convinced me that I am not “meant” to be successful. I only paint 4 or 5 days a week, and it NEVER feels like enough.
Rich people really aggravate me. I’m jealous of the supposed ease of their lives, the appeal of prestige (as Cal Newport says). And I’m convinced that the only reason that we let people with mental illness remain homeless in the richest country on earth is because rich people are too selfish to do anything about it. There’s some toxicity in my own reaction to wealth that feels scary to approach.
Maybe that’s enough for now.
What’s weird is, I feel like I’m a reasonable painter. I can look at a lot of my work with fair objectivity. Is it perfect? Never. And many pieces should be painted over instead of seen and sold. But I fairly regularly make pieces that I’m proud of. So I guess I’ve got that going for me.
Sincerely, Saturday.