I'd like to think that it's implied that most of the time, I know that what I say won't apply to everyone. I'm no great authority on anything, really, other than how I feel at any given moment.
But I've got a thought that I want to share.
I think that the moment you realize, in any given area, with any given task, that there are expectations on you to perform a certain way or achieve a certain result, that's the moment the fun starts getting sucked out of it.
It's simple math. I know very little about math (really not my strong suit), but I imagine that the equation would look something like this. (Again, the key here is 'imagine'. I'm sure it'd be far more complicated than this.)
X= The Task
Y= The Expectations
Z= The Diminished Desire to Perform the Task
So:
X + Y=Z
And yes, that is ridiculous and unnecessary, and if I were more of a math person I'd actually work it out so it makes sense, but let's just talk about this for a second (I'm better with words, you see).
You find something you like to do - ideally, something you love to do. And one day, someone comes along and says, "Hey, you're really great at that!" Then you work and work and work to be your best at the thing you love, and it feels amazing, because you feel like this, this thing right now, is what you're supposed to be doing. There's no better feeling than that.
And so maybe that person, that first person, comes back to you and starts laying expectations on you, deadlines or whatnot, or starts throwing in their opinions on what you're doing, suggestions on what to change. And you think, okay, this isn't so bad. I'll just work it out. Because after all, the audience is right. Right?
Here's the thing, though. The moment you change your initial way of doing things, that thing that made that person take notice in the first place, you're changing everything. The process, how you think, how you work. And there is no way, absolutely no way, that won't change the end result too. And when the end result changes into something that doesn't feel like you want it to, you start to wonder if you want to do it anymore.
So really, you've twisted the thing you love into something that it never really was, initially. And there's something really tragic about that if you think about it. You love what you love for reasons you don't have to justify or explain to anyone. It's yours.
I don't really know what I'm trying to say here. Maybe it's just as simple as this: Find the thing you love, and don't change a damn thing. The process is usually more fun than the finished product anyway, so don't alter it. Because at the end of the day, people can tell when you love what you do. It shows in your work and on your face.
It'd be a shame if no one could ever experience what you love, the way you love it.
Or maybe I'm just rambling and this only makes sense in my head.
This post is archived under
art,
the process,
writing
I really like how you write about art. Or how easy it is to apply what your saying to art if you are actually talking about something else...
You're right. Completely. Especially when the expected "result" is something you never envisioned as part of your process or work.
Sticking with how you work is so important and it doesn't matter how long it takes you to make something, or if you struggle with it, or if it's exhausting and frustrating (ok perhaps speaking from personal experience here) because in the end it's yours.
The only way you develop your voice (or style or whatever) as an artist is if you let the process change naturally on it's own. You aren't the same artist now as you were a year ago (I'm kind of speaking metaphorically, but I think (based on what I've read) it could also be taken literally) and that process will continue, just tell everyone else to back off.
Audiences are interesting and just because they always seem to get an opinion doesn't mean they're always right.