There are two things that I learned while graduating school with art as one of my major subjects. Number one is that having a tragic life bestows you with unlimited power, and number two is that every artist has their own process. There is something else to be said about wannabe artists, like myself, and so many others of my generation. So, I would like to let you into my personal artistic process, which is one that I have been perpetually going through for, let’s say, ten years. Now, for reference, I am currently 18 years old, so this has been following me for most of my life at this point.
Step 1: Having a great idea. Or a regular one.
Raise your hand if this has happened to you as well: you’re outside, perhaps on a walk, perhaps something else. Out of nowhere, inspiration hits you like a sack of bricks, you have a great idea for a painting, or a poem, or a story, or perhaps a blog post about making art; but let’s not get too meta. A good idea is almost like a phoenix, as it rises from basically nothing, which is a great comparison when it comes to my brain capacity. Suddenly, you feel fired up, it’s time to make art.
Step 2: Taking that first step, in your mind.
This is by far my favorite step of the process. Once you have one great idea, it sets off a domino effect, the ideas keep flowing, you think about how you’re going to paint that picture or write that book or whatever else. Just thinking about doing something creative is usually all I need to feel like I’m accomplishing something in my life. All the things I could be doing, the success I could be having, how great my project could turn out, what marvelous thoughts they are! This feels great! And by this, I mean, of course, being wildly delusional. My time in this second phase of the process can last any amount of time, from one hour, to six months, I mean hell, I’m in step 2 for a lot of projects right now, as you read this! Needless to say, for this step, it is crucial that the line of actually doing something never gets crossed.
Step 3: Starting to actually do something.
An alternate title for this step is “the worst step.” After thinking about doing something for a very long time, you finally run up that hill and start working on that thing. You sit down at your desk and start writing, or painting, or whatever. Now, as you can tell, this step only covers the beginning of the main creative process of it all, because between starting and finishing a project there is another step, the fourth step.
Step 4: Thinking about killing yourself.
After one or perhaps even two hours of hard work, you might feel good initially. You go to sleep satisfied, you wake up the next day and think: my god, I actually did something, I’m so excited to keep working on this project, I can’t wait! But there is an unexpected obstacle in the way of you continuing. Upon further inspection, you realize that your current progress is absolute dogshit. You start to doubt your sanity, how could I ever think this is good, you ask yourself. You crumple up that piece of paper that you sketched on, because it makes you sad that you once thought of this as good work. Well, it gets us all sometimes.
Step 5: The fork.
Perhaps the most important part of the process. You decide whether you give up on your project and most importantly, yourself, or you buckle down and finish it. If you give up, you may move on to step six prematurely. If you continue, however, you might be in for a long and arduous ride. Step four and five may be repeatedly infinitely. If you continue working and find yourself hating your progress, welcome back to step four, please take your shoes off at the door. But if you stop and aren’t pondering a jump off the local cliff, then you’ve accidentally moved on to step six.
Step 6: Thinking about a job well done. Or just done.
It doesn’t matter whether you finished you project or not, if you’re satisfied or not. It’s finally done. It’s over. Take this time to think about what you did. If you’re happy, that’s great, if not, that’s also good. You’ve learned from this experience, even if it was only that you aren’t as good as you thought. Every experience is wildly valuable. The empirical evidence for this is plain to see: I’ve given up on many, many, many ideas. Most of my ideas don’t make it past step two, but if they do, the rest usually die at step four. But you’re reading this right now. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked up that pencil, or that paintbrush, and stopped, cried myself to sleep because I’m just not that talented (also because I’m somewhat of a sensitive snowflake.) But I do believe that everyone can make it past this. Even though I’m sad that I will never be a very good painter or artist in general, I’ve learned countless valuable things about my strengths and weaknesses. So, keep at it, try again, fail again, until you succeed. Just getting through step four is, in my opinion, a great success every time. As Rita Mae Brown and countless others after her have said: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. Well, turns out, that’s horseshit. Go bash your head against the wall until it breaks. I’ll be waiting to see what you create.