What is "success" as a creative?
Lessons from a full time painter I used to work for.
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Quick announcement:
Hello friends! I’m excited to be releasing a new collaboration series soon with some great writers here on Substack. I’ve been behind the scenes recording those episodes, and if you value authentic, vulnerable conversations about creativity and want to feel encouraged, inspired, and gain helpful tips to incorporate into your creative practice, stay tuned. Subscribe to access them when they are released.
Onto today’s essay.
What if finding your own path is the most sustainable definition of success when it comes to your creativity?
I worked for a full time artist, a painter, for over 5 years. He epitomized the notion that finding your own path + being confident in that path can lead to great success (notice what you think of when you read the word success. The awareness of your definition is imperative for your journey).
He became successful by what most deem success is for a painter. He started out his career by hanging his art in his home, then doing it for friends, then selling at a gallery, then to more galleries and shows. Eventually opening his own gallery which he's now had for well over a decade, selling only his work, but he didn't stop there. He's one of those rare birds that is a gifted artist and entrepreneur. He’s created an entire lifestyle brand and a line of products influenced by his original art, creating a dedicated audience eager to see his new work and read his words.
The guy beats to his own drum. He ignores trends, intentionally. He keeps much of his life private, he doesn’t share his painting process, or even show his face much. Although many, including myself, have implored him over the years to to do those things thinking that they may lead to greater success. He's created an environment in his gallery that is not most peoples style yet they go out of their way to experience it. Again and again.
When I asked what he defines as success in terms of his art, he said things like:
Something you feel good about making.
You have to decide if money dictates your work or not.
If your art is your living, you have to walk the tight rope.
Easy for someone to say who's made a full time living off their art for over two decades, right? But I can tell you, as the former manager of his gallery and his son-in-law, he's embodied this since the beginning.
I’m sure he’s wavered from time to time and created things influenced by what he felt should make to please the audience, but I think it’s a rare occasion.
Mostly, he's committed to making art he feels good about. He's committed to making art that is in alignment with his core values and what he wants to contribute to the world. He's committed to being himself. If others deem it good enough for them to spend money on, that's a plus.
I'm not entirely sure how he got there. I imagine there's many factors. Maybe it's because he grew up making art before there was a felt pressure to share everything you make and have its worth defined by how many likes, comments, and shares it received. He wrote things where the pages of his journal were the only lucky recipients and he didn't take those personal musings then turn them into aesthetically pleasing designs to share on social media. He made art to hang in his house because he wanted to and didn’t post a before and after reel.
In some ways, I'm grateful to have grown up in the digital age. In other ways I despise it. I don't like how it impairs my creativity. I don't like how, even in writing this, I’m continually reminding myself to write what makes me feel good and not what I think you want me to write.
Maybe it’s not by chance that my favorite authors are those who didn't grow up in the digital age, whose creativity wasn't influenced by the myriad of voices on the device in their pocket. Instead, their creativity was shaped by the trees, the music on the record player, the felt senses in their body, their imagination, the people they had dinner with at a table, the way the sun shone through the clouds, the feel of the pencil on the paper, or the melody of the typewriter.
He also said that art is a broad topic, and that I would get many different answers to the question: “What is success in terms of your art?” I believe he’s right. I get many different answers to that question in my own head. In my core, I want to believe that success in terms of my art is creating something that I feel good about and am proud of. Some days I do believe that. Other days I struggle to.
I’m learning not to be critical of myself on those other days but to be curious. I’m engaging with kindness the parts of me that believe success is based on the validation I receive in terms of money, comments, or shares. I’m learning to ask myself the question: “What is it I really need in this moment?” It’s likely not compensation or validation from others but a deeper invitation.
It’s often the invitation to be with vulnerable parts of my soul. An invitation to believe in my own voice. To be proud of my own words. A place difficult to arrive at due to the wounds of my story. The path toward that destination is covered with overgrown weeds and bushes with thorns. There are trees that have fallen over and signs that say “danger, don’t go further.” What I’m learning is that when I look down that path with curiosity instead of avoiding it, I hear whispers saying “help me” and “I don’t want to stay here.”
Then my heart opens up. My shoulders drop. I notice courage and compassion show up in a way I can’t put words to but that I feel in my bones. My gaze softens and I see glimmers of grace on the path. I notice flowers beginning to bloom. I notice the sun shine through the trees and light up a less crowded part of the path. As I journey through with kindness and gentleness, I find a little boy who carries wounds of the past. I discover that the thorns and weeds and fallen trees act as protection from him being hurt again. I spend time with him and I listen to him and when he’s ready, we head back out on the path together. Finding our way through.
May you worry less about taking someone else’s path and focus on finding your path.
May you find blooming flowers and gentle surprises on your path.
May you find parts of yourself that need you to just be with them.
Writing this, specifically the last two paragraphs, felt like success to me. Thanks for being here 🙏
A song, really this whole album, I’ve had on repeat:
And if you’d like to see my father-in-laws work head here: davidarms.com
Wow, Blake! This is a beautiful story and very well-written. You really captured the nuances and internal and external challenges of being an artist today. We have to learn to live with so many tensions and things that pull at us outside and inside, keeping us from truly expressing our art in the most authentic and fulfilling way. I can't wait to hear more about all of this. And, maybe one day visit David's gallery too.
This is so beautiful and such a great reminder of what it’s really about. Knowing myself I will lose sight of this from time to time (or more often than that if I’m being honest). Archiving this post to read again when I need it♥️ thank you for sharing Blake!