Artist Identity: the things that I’m not.

Okay, so this might be a little heavier than my usual blog posts! Stay with me.

I consider myself a reclusive, partly because I’m introverted, but also because when I’m out in the world, my anxieties take over and I become overwhelmed by the poison of comparison and I define myself by the things that I’m not. It doesn’t take very much for the negative thoughts to steamroller in. At my worst, I have even experienced panic when hanging out my washing in my own back garden, as I become convinced that my neighbours are judging me for the way I’m pegging clothes on a line.

Mixed media monoprint “the question of identity”

Since I’ve become aware of this behaviour, however, I’ve been in a powerful position to change it. I was given a book by a friend that encouraged me to define my life metaphor. You know the sort of thing: life is like a box a chocolates, a poker game, a rollercoaster ride etc etc. I felt like this was an important exercise for me, so gave it some serious thought.

I realised that, I saw life as a theatre. When I was at home, I was backstage, private and safe. However, if I moved near a window or went outside, then I was on stage, open to judgment. At that particularly time in my life, I felt I was stood backstage, watching the performers on stage doing amazing things and I was saying to myself “I can’t do that.” Identifying my life metaphor (and what I was saying to myself) was my first big revelation in self-talk. It was sobering as I knew that I hadn’t always felt this way. There was a time when I believed I could do anything!

At the moment I’m working my way through another book by my favourite creativity coach and psychologist Dr Eric Maisel. “What’s your Artist Identity?” helps artists explore the question of how to make meaning in our lives and with our artwork. In the first few chapters, he encourages us to examine the cultures we belong to and how this may affect the way we approach our work.

It’s a super compelling question, that I’ve never considered before. Once I’d started brainstorming it threw up a few interesting thoughts [which I want to leave for another blog post], but, as a reclusive, my mind immediately went to the online culture. Social media has created a culture where everyone is performing; Everyone is shouting “Look at me, look at me!” However, all too often it feels unsatisfying as it feels like no one is a member of the audience, we’re all on the stage competing. Yet, more often than not, I find myself standing backstage, behind the curtain saying “I can’t do that”. Whenever I move anywhere near to the stage, my anxiety tells me I’m not a performer. I’m not thin enough, happy enough, sociable, cool or confident enough.

I was reminded of my life metaphor last week when I was listening to an episode of the Ezra Klein Show podcast. He was discussing the notion that our perceptions of reality and truth are being twisted by modern politics and culture. He describes a world that is “mediated through media where performance becomes the thing. We’re all seen performing”

He quotes irving Hoffman who said “It’s not the case that the whole world is a stage, but precisely where it isn’t a stage. It’s hard to tell”. Klein goes on to say, “This feels true for a lot of our lives now. As we lose the sense of a backstage, where there is some “you” that you’re trying to preserve. We are building spaces, through Social Media and politics that’s select for the people who fully inhabit the performer and who don’t have the restraint of the self in the background that they’re trying to preserve.”

I’m not a performer. I find myself saying that a lot, especially as an artist. For some reason, people want to see “live drawing”. It’s a big thing on Instagram. I guess it’s fascinating to “see behind the curtain” and watch the magic unfold. I struggle with this concept, not only as an introvert, but also as a sufferer of anxiety. As my life metaphor expresses, I hate being watched. The same was true for my previous life as a screenwriter*. Most of my time was spent alone with my computer and thoughts, hammering it out, but once the thing was written, it needed to be sold. I needed to learn how to network, have an online presence, be media savvy and pitch perfect at a drop of a hat (that sounds like a singing reference, but what I mean is, always be ready to pitch your project).

*a little footnote here: I’m making a conscious effort to change my language, especially regarding the word “quit”. Quit has a negative connotation with pressures attached like guilt, failure and shame. I recently heard Andy J Miller (of the Creative Peptalk podcast) speak about how our culture is very Dory-from-Nemo centred. In that we’re told to never give up, to “just keep swimming” and although there is a place for this thinking, it can also be damaging. Andy suggests we adopt a Ross from Friends approach. Remember the episode where they struggle to get the large heavy sofa up the narrow twisting staircase? Ross demanded they “Pivot, PIVOT”. This thinking suggests that our creativity is fluid, it’s not strapped down to one thing and one narrow field. If one form of expression doesn’t work, PIVOT! Try something else. There is no shame in altering your course a little. This is how I view my creative journey now. I didn’t quit screenwriting; I simply pivoted to a new form of expression :)

I’ve been recommended acting lessons to help me get through these areas of social and business performance and it’s definitely something I know has made a difference to other people like me. It’s on my list of things I should try. There is value in the “fake it til you make it” philosophy; our brains are incredible and can change our feelings and emotions instantly. We can make ourselves feel calm and happy by changing our perspective on a dire situation; we can tell ourselves we are confident and schmooze a room like a politician. However, no-one can live a whole life being something they’re not. It’s disingenuous and exhausting.

That’s why I feel this subject of Identity is crucial in my acceptance of who I am and making it work for me. So, where better place to start than to challenge the things my anxiety tells me I’m not. I took myself out for a walk (amidst other people) and made a non-judgmental note of the things that entered my head. I made a list and added a few other things that commonly pop up:

The things that [my anxiety tells me] I’m not:

Thin enough, elegant, a good runner, happy enough, sociable, cool, good enough at painting and drawing, pretty, a talker, a quick thinker, confident [and therefore unattractive], a good Christian, young enough to be important, in control. I finally added “kind to myself”, which isn’t something that my anxiety would say to me, but my objective self responding to anxiety’s beatings.

This led to a line of thinking I wasn’t expecting. Seeing the list of things written down, made me question why those things are important and have so much power over me. I made a second list of things that I’m glad that I’m not. The list consisted of things like: a racist, a meat eater, a flat earther [I don’t know why I thought of that], ignorant [maybe that’s why], thoughtless, a man, a liar.

This list wasn’t exhaustive because I quickly moved on to creating a third list “Things that I am”, as a counter to the things that I’m glad I’m not.

I am curious, a good listener, a thinker, a pescatarian, a truth seeker, empathetic, self-aware, able-bodied, healthy, a liberal, a woman…

The list then descended into “a perfectionist, conflicted and complicated, a depressive, reclusive, overwhelmed!” Clearly, [because I’m also British], I can only be positive about myself in short bursts.

I have a long way to go in terms of eliminating negative self-talk, but I have noticed that since this exercise, I’m quicker at letting the thoughts go rather than ruminating on them until they feel like facts. I will continue to add to my list of things that I’m glad I’m not and commit the list to memory so I can pitch it to my anxiety at the drop of a hat!

This blog is part of my Australia Art Residency series. Search Art Residency to find out more about my time here.