A webcomic creator I follow on Instagram recently shared a post about art and pain, two things that so many people think go hand-in-hand. In her left panel labeled “Expectation,” the cartoon artist’s speech bubble says something along the lines of “Oh the pain, how it inspires me!” The artists stands in front of a blank canvas, her arms thrown back, ready to create. The right panel labeled “Reality” shows the same artist standing far away from the canvas with an “I haven’t felt inspired to create anything in weeks” speech bubble. Her arms remain slumped at her sides. And that dual-panel comic encapsulates everything I could ever say about art and pain and how artists and non-artists see both concepts together.
While I believe in the tortured artist and its many interpretations, I do find it strange how we see the artist’s motivation deriving solely from pain. And overt pain at that. So the stereotypical starving artist is plagued by great tragedy, loss, personal strife, issues stemming from mental health, past trauma. And while that can be true, not all artist’s pain is flashy or even noticeable to friends and family.
For me, my artist’s pain is disappointment, a lack of motivation. I’ve already discussed my midday slump, but that idea of being lackadaisical is something I’ve really been struggling with as of late, and not just during the afternoon. I haven’t been getting much sleep. I’ve been heavily invested in my baseball team, the Philadelphia Phillies, all year. This week they suffered a devastating loss, ending their chances of even going to the World Series. I stare at my computer screen all day for work and then at night I scroll through eBooks, Bible verses, Instagram, and YouTube, the blue light reflected on my eyes. I’m tired and I feel disappointed in myself and the things I invest my time in. I haven’t felt inspired to create anything in weeks.
I’ve started and stopped at least three illustration projetcs in the past month. Laziness, tiredness, and a general lack of interest and creativity has bothered me this fall. I have a picture book dummy just about ready to go for the querying process but fear and dwindling motivation have stopped me. What’s the point? I ask myself. It’s so hard to get a book deal, why bother right now? I’m only going to get rejected.
I wish I could say there’s an easy fix or a better perspective to be had out there that might squash these negative feelings of mine. But I don’t want to fool myself or pretend like these feelings will just go away. I think as a working artist, disappointment and a general sense of failure are part of the game. While these negative senses can seem like a stimulant or a depressant, just acknowledging the existence of these feelings helps me to realize that the pain artists grapple with can be monotonous and not all that exciting.
I haven’t experienced any recent great tragedy. I don’t dislike my daily routine, I don’t have any unbearable sadness. I actually have a very blessed life with good family, friends, food to eat, clean water to drink, a place to live, a job that I enjoy. Sometimes, I feel unmotivated and I don’t produce work. In those instances, I feel like a failure. But those moments ebb and flow, and eventually inspiration and ideation come through and I find the balance to write and illustrate. The conversation on art and pain should focus on there being good days and bad days. It’s normal for “pain” to be as simple as lack of sleep and a need for more balance between work and play. Disappointment and failure affects artists as much as it affects anybody else, and that can be enough pain to get through and eventually overcome when saddling up for the next creative endeavor.