Writing Prompt #3: The Artist’s Way

Prompt: What do you see when you think about your future?

The Artist’s Way (DRAFT)

What do I see when I think about my future as an artist? I guess you would first have to understand what kind of art I’ve been creating since I first started this endeavor over two decades ago. I’ve done some research and my work can be loosely described as “Outsider Art” —a quick look at Wikipedia defines this movement as “art made by self-taught or supposedly naive artists with typically little or no contact with the conventions of the art worlds. In many cases, their work is discovered only after their deaths. Often, outsider art illustrates extreme mental states, unconventional ideas, or elaborate fantasy worlds.”

As for the medium of my art, I have gone through three distinct artistic phases to date: in the 1990s, I created assorted glass mosaics in the garage of a duplex I was renting on City Park Avenue here in German Village; in the early 2000s, I did a series of ominous acrylic paintings while in florid manic psychosis, chain-smoking and working late into the night on the porch of my home in the Village on E. Columbus Street; then for the past six months I’ve been working exclusively with found objects and creating collages in a “studio” in my mother’s home, and this comes after a brief hospitalization last Fall for acute anxiety and confusion.

I differ from Outsiders in that I have studied major art movements and artists in college, and I have analyzed closely self-taught artists including Howard Finster and Columbus artists Elijah Pierce and William Hawkins (their work is on view at the Columbus Museum of Art). One of my favorite contemporary artists is Jasper Johns, and I completed recently a piece honoring his famous Ballentine ale cans, contrasting his study which is so precise and painstakingly constructed with mine, which is dirty and quickly assembled with cast off beer cans I found randomly along my walks here in the alleys of my neighborhood. As a recovering alcoholic, it’s no surprise I’m drawn to the subject matter.

In a way, my art has always been a deep prayer to a Higher Power. I’ve been on a personal, spiritual journey for quite some time, and it’s been shaped by my experiences in AA ever since I first entered rehab over 25 years ago. The idea of “letting go” and letting a Higher Power guide my artwork is particularly evident in the quasi-religious pieces I have done in the most acute periods of mania. What’s interesting is after completing the works, I felt a very strong compulsion to throw them in the trash—reasoning the Columbus Refuse Department would deliver them to where they needed to go to “reach the people.” I feel a deep sense of shame that I have lost my faculties like this, but have worked extremely hard in talk therapy to understand that I have had psychosis through no fault of my own, rather it was just part of my disorder that is firmly in my past.

In her seminal work, “The Artist’s Way,” author Julia Cameron offers a guidebook on how to overcome the beliefs and fears that can inhibit the creative process. I’ve just started reading the book, and I’m eager to explore the toolkit Cameron offers, including exercises and activities. What happens to me is while I’m creating my art, I feel a great rush of excitement—at times some grandiosity—but then afterwards feel a looming sense of doubt in what I have created. It is my hope that in the future, I will enjoy more confidence in my abilities, feel more pride in what I expressed on the canvas, be it something hatched out of my mind’s eye when I was off my rocker, or something created in calmer, saner times.

To challenge myself, I’ll be displaying some of my works of art at the annual German Village Community Yard Sale on May 20. I’m actually going to try and sell something, with my husband Michael acting as my art dealer whilst I hand out butter cookies and lemonade. I’m extremely curious how we price my art for sale. How do you value what it’s like to trip the light fantastic and come back to relay the journey to an audience? Oh, I guess it doesn’t matter if I get $25 or $250 for something, all I want is a steak dinner at Lindey’s that night. Reservations have been made, so I’m feeling optimistic.

Will anyone understand what I am trying to say, I guess it doesn’t matter, just no more throwing my insightful artwork in the trash. Here’s to a future of prolific creation, both in art and in writing. I’m grateful for my ability, and hopeful I continue to fine tune it.