Authenticity and You
First of all, I'm no expert on any of this...
I'm just a fellow creative, a seeker, just like you.
But I've spent some time learning, thinking and writing about authenticity and what it means, so I'd like to share a little about my discoveries. Maybe you'll find it helpful too.
As a learner, I mimicked other artists art - tried different techniques to create results I admired. I still do at times! And yes, that's definitely a part of learning to paint, right? The problem comes in, I think, when that's all there is - your mimicry of others to create something you perceive as beautiful. It's a way to learn, but not a way to "be". That creates empty skeletons of others work. What I think we're after with authenticity is painting from our own values - pouring what's important to us onto the canvas. I think that authenticity is perceived by the viewer just as much as the emotion in an active brushstroke. It's the key to finding our voice. It can't be denied - our work throbs with it.
In "No More Secondhand Art, Awakening the Artist Within" by Peter London, he discusses ancient symbols and artifacts that contain the earliest art of humans. From what we know this art wasn't prized for its' beauty - it developed out of the meaning they were looking for in the world. Vision quests of young warriors were translated into visual symbols that allowed the viewers to translate it in their own way. Can we use a similar way to find our own authentic art? A vision quest into our core, our values - what animates our own life and gives meaning to our creation of art? I believe this is where authenticity lies. It's within us and something we mine as we go through our art making journey. It grows and evolves as we learn about ourselves, as we find our symbols and meanings.
I loved this website for brainstorming sessions in finding your own personal values:
Why do I send you these studio notes? I'm not interested in selling anything, but I think there's parts of my nature that can be helpful to others. I'm an obsessive learner. I take workshops, read incessantly, daydream and consider, experiment and write, write, write in my art journal. My studio notes become paths that I wander, looking to figure out who I am and what I want to say. I think fellow creatives can relate to this and can be inspired by it and I send out what I want to receive into the universe.
As a palliative nurse, I spent my days with those in the process of dying. I learned to call the Chaplain in to reflect back a patients life when they needed to process it or put regrets into perspective. And there's plenty of regrets in the dying process because we tend to live robotically, all caught up in the day to day and rarely perceiving what's truly important in life. I'm as guilty of that as anyone. It's our nature. But because of the experience of walking that journey with dying patients, I try to remember to bring myself back to the profound nature of life and what really is meaningful to me. I want to die with as little regret as possible. I want to feel satisfied that I made a difference in others lives and kept harm of others to a minimum. So I share.
There was a time when my life was so smashed to bits - when my first husband died unexpectedly at a young age from a sudden coronary event. I spent a few years finding a way to function on my own after being so very dependent and attached to this person I'd married as a teenager. It was a deeply isolating, difficult and suffering time. I learned the meaning of grace in those years - as I experienced fleeting episodes of inspiration and hope from what I perceived as a benevolent universe. I begged for healing, a new life, a way through. And I was gifted that - through the process of becoming a nurse and developing new friendships and community, and learning about myself. I experienced things that felt so deeply magical - messages from the universe, I felt. Meteor showers, bird messengers, mediums who knew too much. It was a time not only of suffering and loss, but also of magic and transformation. Through the process of creating, I rediscover little pieces of that time. And I remember so profoundly those individuals who helped me by things they did or said. I treasured those times of illumination and support, so I share - just in case it might be meaningful to others in a way they need.
I don't think you need to go through life changing loss in order to have inspiring things to say in your art. You only need to be human, in search of other humans to communicate with.
This may seem kind of deep, but it's really just "real" - from me to you, with loving intentions.
Happy Painting, Friends!