Beth, this essay really stayed with me. I don't think suffering necessarily makes us more creative, but I do think it can make us more attentive—to ourselves, to others, and to the world around us. As someone who has lived through many challenges, I've found that creativity isn't born from suffering itself; it's often what helps us make sense of it. Like you, I find that writing doesn't increase my suffering—it gives it somewhere to go. Thank you for such a thoughtful exploration of a question that doesn't have easy answers.
Thank you so much, Robin. I so appreciate your comment. As is the case with so many people, I've spent too many years chasing perfection, and all it's ever gotten me has been stress. I'm glad I am doing my best to let go of it.
Oh Beth, you know I love when you talk about your creative process. I feel the same way about my writing as you do with painting. When we fall into the art making it is time out of time--we are so immersed in the process of creating art that we are engaged in a whole new world. I love this particular passage: "I don’t suffer when I create; in fact, painting and sketching relieve my suffering. When I am anguished, I turn to art, and I find that the very act of creating alleviates stress. And despite making mistakes or struggling with certain aspects of a painting, I still feel joy, not frustration, because I am doing what fulfills me."-- think that's the alchemy that has occurred for me as well--I'm writing and of course editing, and yes there are 'mistakes" but it's all part of the learning process. I used to feel so defeated by my errors, now I just know that they will come along and I'll encounter them and hopefully catch them and learn from them. When you're engaged with your work it doesn't matter if you slip. I've learned to relax when creating an essay. I think of Barbra Streisand and her tangle with perfectionism. We know that she thinks of it not as a flaw, but as a relentless pursuit of excellence and truth in her art. But she's also in later years admitted that nothing is perfect, and that we can only open up to our talents and makes the best use of them, as we can! The important thing is doing what fulfills us and knowing that we are also serving our audience. I love your paintings and have a great affinity for the mountains--for some reason they call out to the little boy in me. Thank you Beth for always sharing your truth and your profound insights into the creative life
Thank you for your thought-provoking, insightful comment. I love when you say, "When we fall into the art making it is time out of time--we are so immersed in the process of creating art that we are engaged in a whole new world." Yes, we invent a new type of world when we are fully engaged with the creation process.
I am so glad that you are so involved with your work that you are focusing on your creative energies instead of perfectionism. It's been a struggle for me throughout my life, and it really has been only recently that I've let the perfectionism drop -- little by little.
Your example about Barbra Streisand is an excellent one. The result of perfectionism can be the highest excellence, which Streisand is known for. Or it can make an individual break emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I think perfection is somehow related to one's insecurity. Barbra is assertive and gutsy, but I gather she also has to deal with her demons, as many of us do.
I appreciate you weighing in on this discussion. 💕
So wonderful that art brings you such joy and relief, Beth. It seems as if this is something you have worked on in yourself.
It seem not all artists have that degree of introspection and insight. In "The Agony and the Ecstasy," we gain insight into Michelangelo's epic life and struggles over his art (one might think today that he suffered from depression, and perhaps PTSD. Certainly, he suffered from perfectionism). The artist himself said, “If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it would not seem so wonderful at all.”
And then there's Van Gogh. There is no doubt he suffered from mental illness. He was institutionalized for it.
None of this means an artist must suffer for their art. It does mean that artists are people, with alll their flaws and all their glories. Some artists achieve both the heights and the the depths. And for others, it is the equilibrium in the making and creating that sustains them.
Thank you so much for your insightful comment and valid points. That quote by Michelangelo is profound in a sense because no one knows how hard a visual artist or writer, let's say, works. In fact, for example, novelists perhaps make their work look like it was easy to do, with polished prose and wonderful dialogue. But the truth is, the amount of work needed to write books is so challenging and time-consuming, that it seems to the average reader that the words simply roll off the page so easily.
I love when you say, "None of this means an artist must suffer for their art. It does mean that artists are people, with alll their flaws and all their glories." Truth. People can suffer and create art out of that suffering, but on the flip side, creatives can gain a lot simply from the process of creation, as you point out.
I love how you hit the nail on the head! Perfectionism is the monster I try to keep in the closet when I create. Of course, that’s not always possible and perhaps, not helpful either. I still struggle with it but I’m getting to a point where the process is the joy, the fuel that keeps me going. You’re an inspiration for me. Your joy in act of creation itself and letting it not just lead but be the true end point.
Thank you for your insightful comment. I agree that perfectionism is such a terrible monster. I've struggled with it for a good portion of my life. I'm planning to take two drawing classes, starting in August, and in a classroom setting for art, I tend to get really jittery, compare myself to others, and seek perfection. I'm going to write an essay in Substack about this because I will need to gather strength be calm.
And you're an inspiration to me, dear friend. Thank you for your readership and for your insightful comments, as well as your excellent posts that I so enjoy reading. ❤️
"As I’ve indicated in prior essays, the process is everything to me. I find great joy while creating art, even if a piece of art is problematic."
Wholeheartedly agree, Beth. When my thoughts build up in me, I need to release them. And if I have no place to do that, THEN I feel pain. Putting words on the page is a great relief for me. And then the creative process begins. Back and forth. Writing is rewriting. I feel tremendous joy in this process. People who suffer are probably afflicted with the perfectionism you 've been blessed to let go of.
Painting. Pentimento. Back and forth. Add this. Cover up that. No sky in Arizona? Add it now. You should see Sandia Mountain from where I lived in Albuquerque. Gorgeous at sunset. And I like the black bridge better. Picks up pieces of black in the painting.
I love what you say "When my thoughts build up in me, I need to release them. And if I have no place to do that, THEN I feel pain. Putting words on the page is a great relief for me." I know the feeling. You are a writer through and through, and there is so much catharsis that takes place on the written page (or computer screen).
I am so glad that this process is so joyful to you. Perfectionism doesn't serve us well, as this is a construct that exists only in our minds.
I actually thought of the word pentimento as I was reworking the bridge. One of the things I love about the Substack community is the opportunity to learn from others and be a part of a wonderful community. I am so glad our paths crossed in the Substack space.
I agree that the black bridge is better. Like us, what we work on is always a work in progress.
Sandia Mountain is beautiful (I looked it up on Google). There was even a sunset shot. My goodness, how magnificent.
You make a good point here about the albatross of perfection Beth and I couldn't agree more!
There are those artists also that suffer because they need to suffer in order to use their art to process their trauma, doing so can cause them to relive it as they go through the artistic process...so as well as being calming for our mental health in the meditative way that we all think of it as, art also acts as a therapist in a way where the trauma or issues are painted / written / photographed etc out of the artists mind into being, so that the artist can understand them. In that way the artist has to suffer to ease their suffering...if that makes sense!
Going back to perfectionism - it is a little gremlin that can creep up on us when we least expect it. I find it gets me when I can't process images to look the way I visualised them...if I let it get to me I'll spend hours trying to get the 'right' look...which isn't helpful and disconnects me from the joy of the whole process. So I just try to practice awareness of the threat of Mr Perfectionist and when he comes and sits on my shoulder I try to brush him off before he gets a hold!😊 I do like the draft of the new painting and the deep blue of the sky, I'm looking forward to seeing how that one progresses,. In the meantime I have to agree with Arielle, the bridge looks much better with the darker tones. It's wonderful how she gives you honest feedback and you take it on board - that really shows the strength of your relationship.
Thank you so much for your thought-provoking comment. You say, "There are those artists also that suffer because they need to suffer in order to use their art to process their trauma,..." In this regard, I agree that art can be positive in that the traumatized personn can use it as a vehicle to getting raw emotions out and/or healing.
I like that you described perfectionism as a gremlin and how you personified the perfectionist. And, yes, all we can do is be mindful of whether our tendency is to be perfect.
I am so glad you are enjoying reading about my process. I am grateful to you for your honest
Your final revision of the bridge is wonderful, Beth. And I think your sky in your Arizonascape is perfect and very realistic looking. As far as artists creating such suffering for themselves, I have to agree with you. It brings me joy when I create and I get so much satisfaction out of it.
Thank you so much for your kind words about my art pieces. I am so glad you feel joy when you create! That's exactly why I keep coming back to visual art -- because I so enjoy the process. Sounds like you feel the same whenever you create.
Perfectionism is the albatross, for sure. Sometimes my writing is an expression of my suffering, while the process itself remains satisfying, free of suffering. Sometimes writing evokes deep emotion: loss, love, sorrow, joy, contentment, restlessness, longing . . . For me, the point of art is feeling, the universal language.
When I sit with my journal in the morning, the mood is quiet and reflective. I write without direction and see where it takes me. When I'm crafting an essay or a story, the process is, in and of itself is satisfying. Imagination, as you point out, can be a great playground. And writing my way into the day is something I would name as contentment, even if what I'm writing about is chaotic.
Imagination is something I revere; it pulls me and answers my longings. To create is to participate in something sacred , the microcosm of the macrocosm. Writing, making things, playing in imagination, these are great joys that produce an array of feeling experience.
The bridge in the darker colors is an elegant piece. I've thought a lot about bridges lately, because we need bridges now, more than ever. And there is something other worldly in the night-scape. I've had that feeling on dark roads that I didn't know well -- a sense of somehow driving across the sky.
Reading about your process and experiencing you creations in various stages has taught me a lot about writing, most especially about trusting what comes forward, and worrying less about how "good" something is or isn't. It's the process that counts, that place of making something that feels like one is home.
Thank you for such a thought-provoking piece. Onward my artist friend, from your forever friend and fan, ~stephanie
I so appreciate your perspective on this topic, and you are describing key dualities that can occur with any creative endeavor. You say, "And writing my way into the day is something I would name as contentment, even if what I'm writing about is chaotic." That's exactly how I feel about creating visual art: that the process is contentment, but the subject matter might be chaotic or disturbing.
And just as you learn about writing through my artistic journeys, so do I learn about creating art by reading your perspectives on writing.
Seeking perfection doesn't really serve creatives well, in my opinion. I consider myself a recovering perfectionist. This phenomenon, of seeking the perfect technique or perfect piece, is really impossible to achieve. After all, perfection doesn't really exist in our imperfect world.
I also love how you say that "To create is to participate in something sacred..." This is a topic that I've been thinking a lot about and will probably write an essay on in the near future.
Thank you for your assessment of the improved bridge piece. I'm grateful Arielle suggested to improve it this way. The nighttime piece is mysterious for sure, and I'm not even sure it will ultimately work as a painting, but I'm giving it a shot.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, my friend, and I so appreciate your readership. ❤️
As always, Beth, I love your sense of curiosity and discovery. Maybe this is where that wonderful feeling of contentment from. I'd like to think that we can be curious and filled with delight at discovery until the day we die. Here's to this wonderful path of discovery and the joy of creating. You are in my heart dear friend and I am your forever fan.
Beth, I’m very much like you ... I don’t suffer when I create. Art, in whatever form it takes, has always been a place of relief and restoration for me. But you’ve genuinely intrigued me about why some artists struggle, and I find myself wondering, as you do, whether it’s not the paint they’re wrestling with, but themselves.
Perfectionism, the fear of not being "good enough," the pressure to match an inner vision, or even ... from my Jungian lens ... the tug of the shadow, those parts of us that whisper doubt or demand mastery. Canvases dance with archetypes; poems do too. When those energies are loud, the page (in my case), the camera (with Lin), the canvas or sheet (with yourself) can feel like a battleground rather than a sanctuary. Understanding that has helped me hold more compassion for why creation can feel painful for some.
Some people are simply at odds with themselves ... sometimes for a season, sometimes for a whole lifetime. I certainly was when younger as so many of my poems were angry, demanding apology (which never came, of course!) until I finally turned toward my own shadow and befriended it: the anger, the madness, all the parts I'd been rejecting and unconsciously projecting onto others.
Apologies, Beth ... I’ve wandered off on a tangent, but fascination always sends me reaching for my pen. I’m with Arielle: the bridge looks wonderful darker. Dipping into the pregnant darkness often brings more light than we imagine. You have such a beautiful soul and as always, you’re such a joy to read. Thanks so much for musing with me. 🙏💖🖼️
Your insights are wonderful, and you make such valid points, especially one that I didn't wholly consider when writing this essay: that perhaps people's struggles with themselves are what may be behind the suffering while creating -- whether it be visual art, written art, or for any art for that matter. For these individuals, as you state, creating "can feel like a battleground rather than a sanctuary." This statement has given me great insight, and truth be told, every creative spirit has their own history, their own path, their own pain and insight, and their own journey.
No need to apologize, for I so enjoyed hearing your perspective. When I took art classes years ago, the insecurity I felt then seemed to be caused by perfectionism, tinged with comparing myself with whom I considered better artists than me. The comparison game is much to blame, I think, for people's suffering.
Regarding the bridge, I now see why the darker color works. I didn't see that before, so seeing the darkness has helped me see the light in a way.
And thank you for your kind words. I so appreciate your readership, and your comments are always intriguing, insightful and spot-on. You are someone I am so glad to have crossed paths with in the Substack space. I linger on your beautiful words. Thank you so much, dear friend. ❤️
Beth, this essay really stayed with me. I don't think suffering necessarily makes us more creative, but I do think it can make us more attentive—to ourselves, to others, and to the world around us. As someone who has lived through many challenges, I've found that creativity isn't born from suffering itself; it's often what helps us make sense of it. Like you, I find that writing doesn't increase my suffering—it gives it somewhere to go. Thank you for such a thoughtful exploration of a question that doesn't have easy answers.
Beautiful thoughts, here, Beth. The reminder about perfectionism is ever welcome.
Thank you so much, Robin. I so appreciate your comment. As is the case with so many people, I've spent too many years chasing perfection, and all it's ever gotten me has been stress. I'm glad I am doing my best to let go of it.
Oh Beth, you know I love when you talk about your creative process. I feel the same way about my writing as you do with painting. When we fall into the art making it is time out of time--we are so immersed in the process of creating art that we are engaged in a whole new world. I love this particular passage: "I don’t suffer when I create; in fact, painting and sketching relieve my suffering. When I am anguished, I turn to art, and I find that the very act of creating alleviates stress. And despite making mistakes or struggling with certain aspects of a painting, I still feel joy, not frustration, because I am doing what fulfills me."-- think that's the alchemy that has occurred for me as well--I'm writing and of course editing, and yes there are 'mistakes" but it's all part of the learning process. I used to feel so defeated by my errors, now I just know that they will come along and I'll encounter them and hopefully catch them and learn from them. When you're engaged with your work it doesn't matter if you slip. I've learned to relax when creating an essay. I think of Barbra Streisand and her tangle with perfectionism. We know that she thinks of it not as a flaw, but as a relentless pursuit of excellence and truth in her art. But she's also in later years admitted that nothing is perfect, and that we can only open up to our talents and makes the best use of them, as we can! The important thing is doing what fulfills us and knowing that we are also serving our audience. I love your paintings and have a great affinity for the mountains--for some reason they call out to the little boy in me. Thank you Beth for always sharing your truth and your profound insights into the creative life
Hi Gerry,
Thank you for your thought-provoking, insightful comment. I love when you say, "When we fall into the art making it is time out of time--we are so immersed in the process of creating art that we are engaged in a whole new world." Yes, we invent a new type of world when we are fully engaged with the creation process.
I am so glad that you are so involved with your work that you are focusing on your creative energies instead of perfectionism. It's been a struggle for me throughout my life, and it really has been only recently that I've let the perfectionism drop -- little by little.
Your example about Barbra Streisand is an excellent one. The result of perfectionism can be the highest excellence, which Streisand is known for. Or it can make an individual break emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I think perfection is somehow related to one's insecurity. Barbra is assertive and gutsy, but I gather she also has to deal with her demons, as many of us do.
I appreciate you weighing in on this discussion. 💕
So wonderful that art brings you such joy and relief, Beth. It seems as if this is something you have worked on in yourself.
It seem not all artists have that degree of introspection and insight. In "The Agony and the Ecstasy," we gain insight into Michelangelo's epic life and struggles over his art (one might think today that he suffered from depression, and perhaps PTSD. Certainly, he suffered from perfectionism). The artist himself said, “If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it would not seem so wonderful at all.”
And then there's Van Gogh. There is no doubt he suffered from mental illness. He was institutionalized for it.
None of this means an artist must suffer for their art. It does mean that artists are people, with alll their flaws and all their glories. Some artists achieve both the heights and the the depths. And for others, it is the equilibrium in the making and creating that sustains them.
I am so glad that art, for you, is sustaining!
Hi Robin,
Thank you so much for your insightful comment and valid points. That quote by Michelangelo is profound in a sense because no one knows how hard a visual artist or writer, let's say, works. In fact, for example, novelists perhaps make their work look like it was easy to do, with polished prose and wonderful dialogue. But the truth is, the amount of work needed to write books is so challenging and time-consuming, that it seems to the average reader that the words simply roll off the page so easily.
I love when you say, "None of this means an artist must suffer for their art. It does mean that artists are people, with alll their flaws and all their glories." Truth. People can suffer and create art out of that suffering, but on the flip side, creatives can gain a lot simply from the process of creation, as you point out.
I appreciate your comment and readership. 💕😊
I love how you hit the nail on the head! Perfectionism is the monster I try to keep in the closet when I create. Of course, that’s not always possible and perhaps, not helpful either. I still struggle with it but I’m getting to a point where the process is the joy, the fuel that keeps me going. You’re an inspiration for me. Your joy in act of creation itself and letting it not just lead but be the true end point.
Hi Susan,
Thank you for your insightful comment. I agree that perfectionism is such a terrible monster. I've struggled with it for a good portion of my life. I'm planning to take two drawing classes, starting in August, and in a classroom setting for art, I tend to get really jittery, compare myself to others, and seek perfection. I'm going to write an essay in Substack about this because I will need to gather strength be calm.
And you're an inspiration to me, dear friend. Thank you for your readership and for your insightful comments, as well as your excellent posts that I so enjoy reading. ❤️
"As I’ve indicated in prior essays, the process is everything to me. I find great joy while creating art, even if a piece of art is problematic."
Wholeheartedly agree, Beth. When my thoughts build up in me, I need to release them. And if I have no place to do that, THEN I feel pain. Putting words on the page is a great relief for me. And then the creative process begins. Back and forth. Writing is rewriting. I feel tremendous joy in this process. People who suffer are probably afflicted with the perfectionism you 've been blessed to let go of.
Painting. Pentimento. Back and forth. Add this. Cover up that. No sky in Arizona? Add it now. You should see Sandia Mountain from where I lived in Albuquerque. Gorgeous at sunset. And I like the black bridge better. Picks up pieces of black in the painting.
Love and hugs to you, dear Beth. xoxo
Hi Marilea,
I love what you say "When my thoughts build up in me, I need to release them. And if I have no place to do that, THEN I feel pain. Putting words on the page is a great relief for me." I know the feeling. You are a writer through and through, and there is so much catharsis that takes place on the written page (or computer screen).
I am so glad that this process is so joyful to you. Perfectionism doesn't serve us well, as this is a construct that exists only in our minds.
I actually thought of the word pentimento as I was reworking the bridge. One of the things I love about the Substack community is the opportunity to learn from others and be a part of a wonderful community. I am so glad our paths crossed in the Substack space.
I agree that the black bridge is better. Like us, what we work on is always a work in progress.
Sandia Mountain is beautiful (I looked it up on Google). There was even a sunset shot. My goodness, how magnificent.
Sending you love and hugs back. ❤️
You make a good point here about the albatross of perfection Beth and I couldn't agree more!
There are those artists also that suffer because they need to suffer in order to use their art to process their trauma, doing so can cause them to relive it as they go through the artistic process...so as well as being calming for our mental health in the meditative way that we all think of it as, art also acts as a therapist in a way where the trauma or issues are painted / written / photographed etc out of the artists mind into being, so that the artist can understand them. In that way the artist has to suffer to ease their suffering...if that makes sense!
Going back to perfectionism - it is a little gremlin that can creep up on us when we least expect it. I find it gets me when I can't process images to look the way I visualised them...if I let it get to me I'll spend hours trying to get the 'right' look...which isn't helpful and disconnects me from the joy of the whole process. So I just try to practice awareness of the threat of Mr Perfectionist and when he comes and sits on my shoulder I try to brush him off before he gets a hold!😊 I do like the draft of the new painting and the deep blue of the sky, I'm looking forward to seeing how that one progresses,. In the meantime I have to agree with Arielle, the bridge looks much better with the darker tones. It's wonderful how she gives you honest feedback and you take it on board - that really shows the strength of your relationship.
Hi Lin,
Thank you so much for your thought-provoking comment. You say, "There are those artists also that suffer because they need to suffer in order to use their art to process their trauma,..." In this regard, I agree that art can be positive in that the traumatized personn can use it as a vehicle to getting raw emotions out and/or healing.
I like that you described perfectionism as a gremlin and how you personified the perfectionist. And, yes, all we can do is be mindful of whether our tendency is to be perfect.
I am so glad you are enjoying reading about my process. I am grateful to you for your honest
Your final revision of the bridge is wonderful, Beth. And I think your sky in your Arizonascape is perfect and very realistic looking. As far as artists creating such suffering for themselves, I have to agree with you. It brings me joy when I create and I get so much satisfaction out of it.
Hi Nancy,
Thank you so much for your kind words about my art pieces. I am so glad you feel joy when you create! That's exactly why I keep coming back to visual art -- because I so enjoy the process. Sounds like you feel the same whenever you create.
Keep on writing!
Perfectionism is the albatross, for sure. Sometimes my writing is an expression of my suffering, while the process itself remains satisfying, free of suffering. Sometimes writing evokes deep emotion: loss, love, sorrow, joy, contentment, restlessness, longing . . . For me, the point of art is feeling, the universal language.
When I sit with my journal in the morning, the mood is quiet and reflective. I write without direction and see where it takes me. When I'm crafting an essay or a story, the process is, in and of itself is satisfying. Imagination, as you point out, can be a great playground. And writing my way into the day is something I would name as contentment, even if what I'm writing about is chaotic.
Imagination is something I revere; it pulls me and answers my longings. To create is to participate in something sacred , the microcosm of the macrocosm. Writing, making things, playing in imagination, these are great joys that produce an array of feeling experience.
The bridge in the darker colors is an elegant piece. I've thought a lot about bridges lately, because we need bridges now, more than ever. And there is something other worldly in the night-scape. I've had that feeling on dark roads that I didn't know well -- a sense of somehow driving across the sky.
Reading about your process and experiencing you creations in various stages has taught me a lot about writing, most especially about trusting what comes forward, and worrying less about how "good" something is or isn't. It's the process that counts, that place of making something that feels like one is home.
Thank you for such a thought-provoking piece. Onward my artist friend, from your forever friend and fan, ~stephanie
Hi Stephanie,
I so appreciate your perspective on this topic, and you are describing key dualities that can occur with any creative endeavor. You say, "And writing my way into the day is something I would name as contentment, even if what I'm writing about is chaotic." That's exactly how I feel about creating visual art: that the process is contentment, but the subject matter might be chaotic or disturbing.
And just as you learn about writing through my artistic journeys, so do I learn about creating art by reading your perspectives on writing.
Seeking perfection doesn't really serve creatives well, in my opinion. I consider myself a recovering perfectionist. This phenomenon, of seeking the perfect technique or perfect piece, is really impossible to achieve. After all, perfection doesn't really exist in our imperfect world.
I also love how you say that "To create is to participate in something sacred..." This is a topic that I've been thinking a lot about and will probably write an essay on in the near future.
Thank you for your assessment of the improved bridge piece. I'm grateful Arielle suggested to improve it this way. The nighttime piece is mysterious for sure, and I'm not even sure it will ultimately work as a painting, but I'm giving it a shot.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, my friend, and I so appreciate your readership. ❤️
As always, Beth, I love your sense of curiosity and discovery. Maybe this is where that wonderful feeling of contentment from. I'd like to think that we can be curious and filled with delight at discovery until the day we die. Here's to this wonderful path of discovery and the joy of creating. You are in my heart dear friend and I am your forever fan.
Thank you for your sweet words, Stephanie. Yes, let's be curious, love discovery, and have delight for the rest of our time on Earth.
Beth, I’m very much like you ... I don’t suffer when I create. Art, in whatever form it takes, has always been a place of relief and restoration for me. But you’ve genuinely intrigued me about why some artists struggle, and I find myself wondering, as you do, whether it’s not the paint they’re wrestling with, but themselves.
Perfectionism, the fear of not being "good enough," the pressure to match an inner vision, or even ... from my Jungian lens ... the tug of the shadow, those parts of us that whisper doubt or demand mastery. Canvases dance with archetypes; poems do too. When those energies are loud, the page (in my case), the camera (with Lin), the canvas or sheet (with yourself) can feel like a battleground rather than a sanctuary. Understanding that has helped me hold more compassion for why creation can feel painful for some.
Some people are simply at odds with themselves ... sometimes for a season, sometimes for a whole lifetime. I certainly was when younger as so many of my poems were angry, demanding apology (which never came, of course!) until I finally turned toward my own shadow and befriended it: the anger, the madness, all the parts I'd been rejecting and unconsciously projecting onto others.
Apologies, Beth ... I’ve wandered off on a tangent, but fascination always sends me reaching for my pen. I’m with Arielle: the bridge looks wonderful darker. Dipping into the pregnant darkness often brings more light than we imagine. You have such a beautiful soul and as always, you’re such a joy to read. Thanks so much for musing with me. 🙏💖🖼️
Dear Deborah,
Your insights are wonderful, and you make such valid points, especially one that I didn't wholly consider when writing this essay: that perhaps people's struggles with themselves are what may be behind the suffering while creating -- whether it be visual art, written art, or for any art for that matter. For these individuals, as you state, creating "can feel like a battleground rather than a sanctuary." This statement has given me great insight, and truth be told, every creative spirit has their own history, their own path, their own pain and insight, and their own journey.
No need to apologize, for I so enjoyed hearing your perspective. When I took art classes years ago, the insecurity I felt then seemed to be caused by perfectionism, tinged with comparing myself with whom I considered better artists than me. The comparison game is much to blame, I think, for people's suffering.
Regarding the bridge, I now see why the darker color works. I didn't see that before, so seeing the darkness has helped me see the light in a way.
And thank you for your kind words. I so appreciate your readership, and your comments are always intriguing, insightful and spot-on. You are someone I am so glad to have crossed paths with in the Substack space. I linger on your beautiful words. Thank you so much, dear friend. ❤️
Aww, thank you so much Beth for reassuring me that I didn't wander too far! At heart, I'm just a curious creature who love's to muse. 🙏💖🖼️