Some of my favorite artists are people who died believing they were failures. I was flipping through a book of Van Gogh’s paintings with my child this morning, astonished by all of their beauty, and was heartbroken to remember that Van Gogh died, at his own hand, never having sold a single piece of work. I've always been fascinated by the Fitzgeralds, Zelda and Scott. Both so brilliant, both so overflowing with spectacular creativity. So full of life and love and passion. And yet they died so young, believing they had not succeeded in any respect, living apart, addicted, suffering from mental illness. It’s a story that repeats itself over and over again.
How does this keep happening to our most gifted and brilliant creative minds? Perhaps it is the expectation we put on ourselves as artists to be recognized as brilliant. For the beauty we create to be seen, known, and appreciated for all that it really is. It is deeply disheartening, perhaps even soul crushing, to put your entire heart and soul into creating something of beauty and truth, and for it to remain unseen. Or worse, fiercely criticized. Maybe that’s why us creative types are not well known for our stability and normality. As a young writer and painter, I am ashamed to admit that perfectionism and self-criticism prevented me from creating more times than I care to own.
So perhaps, we has artists need to change our perspective. Perhaps, we need to release the responsibility of appreciation from the world at large. Perhaps, we only need to fulfill our part of the bargain: to create beauty and put it out into the world, come hell or high water.
As artists, we are called to create beauty. To speak truth. To really see the world and reflect it back in a way that others cannot. The measure of our success is not to be recognized, to win awards, or even to be paid. Our job is to make the art. The measure of our success is to refuse to hold it in, but to set our work free and let the chips fall where they may. The measure of our success is to not allow ourselves to be crippled by the fear of failure, or perfectionism, or the nagging thought that what we have to offer the world has already been offered, (and better.) These are lies, and true courage is found in ignoring the lies and creating anyway. To do the work. To soldier on. To shake off starvation for recognition and put the beauty out there anyway.
The only failure that exists as an artist is to allow fear to prevent you from creating your art. The only failure is to refuse to share your beauty with the world.
So what are you waiting for?
Kimberly Poovey is a writer, speaker, artist, wife, and over-caffeinated new(ish) mom. She runs a teen pregnancy prevention program for a nonprofit and is a founder of Pearls, an organization that serves women in the sex industry and fights human trafficking. You can find her over on Scary Mommy, The Mighty, her blog, and on Facebook.