What is it all for?

I was talking to my co-moderators at the United Artists Collective this week about writing for this blog…okay to be honest I was begging them to help me come up with topics. During the conversation, Charlotte asked (and I could hear her say this in her beautiful British accent when I read it), “What is it all for?” And friends, I have to tell you it was an absolute gut punch.

What about the question?

I think artists ask this question, or some variation, maybe 800 times a day regarding our art. Because it is the very heart of our fear, insecurity, and struggles with making. And that question is for every part of the process. It’s for the ideation part. It comes up in the process of making things. Then it appears again when we’re trying to assess what we make. Then, if we have any work on the Internet, we’re struck again during the process of uploading and trying to give some context on the work for the audience. Finally, it comes up again while dealing with the cesspool that social media can be, particularly if you are a femme presenting person online. 

I will say it never really leaves me, this question. Sometimes during the making, I can lose myself in the process well enough that I can drown out the noise of the question. But it’s still there, lurking underneath. After 10 years of working, I think I’ve learned to ignore it at least part of the time. 

For me, to try and figure out the answer to the question means I stop working. Then I get paralyzed thinking in circles trying to produce an answer. So I HAVE to ignore it. Or else I never make anything. 

The question behind the question

But sometimes I answer this question with a question of my own. And that question is, “If I’m the only person who ever sees my work for the rest of my life, is that reason enough to keep working?” 

And that’s actually a much more interesting question to me. Because digging deep for this answer actually produces some results. I don’t have to think in circles and try to bestow meaning on what I do. Because I am always going to be making something. I love to cook and organize. I love found materials, expensive art materials, cheap ass art materials, paper, paint, and yarn. And I love trying new crochet patterns. I love arranging things artistically. Loving all of these things means I’m always going to have materials to work with and things I want to make. And making stuff for myself just because I can is VERY satisfying.

I make so I have things around me that I enjoy and I love to give things to people who appreciate them. I also make because I love the process and activity of making. Sometimes the process *is* the point. If the process causes me to be satisfied, uplifted, grounded, or tethered to my body or this earth, if I use it to process my emotions and dump my anger and pain into the work and I feel better after making then that is MORE than enough. That’s kinda everything actually. 

Just writing that down and reading it makes me sigh in relief because that’s exactly what it is for. 

If I have followers on social media who like it, if I sell something online or in person, if I write an in depth blog post explaining what I made and people read it, if it’s pretty and I like what I made…that’s just all gravy on top because it’s already produced all the results I need. The process of making the thing often is the whole point.

Process, process, process

In many cases I feel like demanding the work be anything other than process is asking too much of it. The final object is the artifact of my creative process and yet our culture treats art like commodified products. That’s nothing new of course, Michelangelo had patrons as have many, many other artists throughout history. We all have to eat and if someone will buy my process artifact for some cash so I can buy a bowl of ramen, then huzzah! I get to eat today! But putting the pressure on the process that it must produce a product to sell is terrible no matter how you look at it. This is how you get extruded art product. And I feel very sure that that is not what it is all for. 

This is why I have to continually assess my goals and set new ones. I answer only to my creative brain so I need to have a plan or at least some vague notion of what direction I want to work in. So that when I do get mired down in wondering what it is all for I can check in on my goals and focus on making progress on one of those. I can leave plenty of room for the creative muse to strike and still have something to work on when I’m unsure of what to do day-to-day. Keeping a list of “want to try” projects is great for this too. I firmly believe one can never have too many lists!!

History will judge us (but probably not)

Whatever skill level we artists work at, our pieces are a reflection of the time and space we occupy. That piece of history is valuable. Maybe only to me or my kids, maybe to someone my artwork touched, or maybe to a wider slice of history. But making work, documenting it, having people see it, keeping track of it, and storing it, this is how culture is made, explored, and thought about. And that too is what it is all for.

But of course every artist must assess this question for themselves. My answer may not be Charlotte’s answer and both of our answers might change 12 times before Christmas. And that’s the beauty and agony of trying to make meaning out of making meaning through art. It is T.S. Eliot’s “endless cycle of idea and action” writ large in every artist’s life. And I am so freaking lucky to get to do it every day. 

What about you? Do you have an answer to this question that satisfies you? I’d love to know your answers! Catch up with me on socials, email me, or go old school and leave a comment on this post to be immortalized for all of time.

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