Making art can become dishearteningly difficult.

These “difficulties” can often paralyze artists or send them into a downward spiral of un-creativity or inactivity with no foreseeable end.

So how do we overcome this?  How does art get done in the first place?

I ask myself these questions often because I’ll find myself not “finishing” pieces or series.  I’ve got a hard drive with terabytes of images that need second and third looks.  I’ve got folders and “albums” in my image editing library that should be done with test prints made and uploaded to my online gallery.

As a visual and thinking type, I often find that the images, or artwork, that I haven’t quite completed may better than what I do have finished, even if it’s all just in my head.

While this may be a case of being “my own worst critic” it’s certainly possible that I struggle with a different set of difficulties that prevent me from completing my works.

This isn’t about distractions.  I’m increasingly becoming better at avoiding those.

Perhaps it’s because I struggle with that common fear that almost all artists struggle with: No one cares!

Okay…that’s putting it very simply.  But there’s truth behind those thoughts.

Consider that today, working as an artist, means living in a world filled with doubt and contradiction.  It means doing something that no one really cares whether you do it or not.  It means creating work that may or may not have an audience and may or may not have any reward.

So I set aside, inasmuch as I can, these doubts so that I can see, not only what I’ve done, but that the path that I’m headed has some sort of fruit to bear.

It means I have to find, however hard it may be, the self nourishment and fulfillment within the work itself.

Sometimes…this is a cat and mouse game.  I’m just not sure if I’m supposed to be the cat or the mouse.

Is there a creative “genius” inside of us or does this “genius” reside outside of our minds and bodies waiting for a special moment in time to act with or without our knowledge?

That’s a question that Elizabeth Gilbert puts to her audience at TED.

The idea of “having a genius” and not “being a genius” in the realm of creativity is something I’ve never looked at before.

As artists is it possible to throw away our narcissism and allow for the brilliance to come as it may?

I’m not talking about becoming lazy about our work, and neither is Elizabeth (insofar as I can tell) rather, I’m talking about pushing through those “blocks” that we stumble over as we work to create the things that we cannot keep ourselves from creating.

I’ve seen almost every TED talk and I found this one hit me more personally than any other I’ve seen.  Truly the words and the feelings that Gilbert spoke resonated throughout the creative community. 

I haven’t yet created my masterpiece.  As I look through my work I see improvements in vision, application, technique, and presentation but they don’t improve at a steady rate.  That is to say, that the ebbs and flow of learning and honing a craft can come with great frustrations along the way.

We see our progress but we also see our digress with eyes that would magnify our failures much more easily than they would magnify our success. 

At times it’s almost easier to feel like a failure and give up than to struggle through this creative process and get more work done.  But I can’t stop working.  I’ve tried to “give up” and I sucked at it.

Without the outlet I become unpleasant.  I lose my self.

When I ponder the idea that I can just create, I can just work, I can just move along at the pace that I need to and that “genius” will come and go at it’s leisure I get a sense of relief.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to just let the muse come and go, but I’m gonna try.  For that, I thank Elizabeth Gilbert.

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