So it’s probably about time that we talked about the gigantic pink elephant in the room.

You know, that one. That one where we talk about the fact that I’ve almost completely stopped painting? Yeah, that one.

I keep starting again and then stopping. If I do paint, it’s only ever for an hour, maybe two, at a time. Gone are the days where I’d disappear for 5-6 hours and emerge covered in paint.

Obviously, this has been bothering me and I kept telling myself that it would just work itself out, that the passion would come back, that I’d be fine to paint again. But a lack of passion is not the problem. I’m as passionate as ever about creating great art – I still get choked up, I still get out of breath with excitement. I still have these creative urges that almost overwhelm me.

So why am I not painting?

Because I’m scared

You know the phrase “You meet yourself on the canvas”? I’m meeting me on the canvas. And what I meet unsettles me.

I’ve been telling myself that all of my emotional turmoil is the thing that’s scaring me – it’s hard to hide from it when it’s just you and the canvas. I figured it wasn’t my fault, and that when I was feeling more settled, it would get better.

But that’s a lie. It’s not the emotional turmoil that gets me. That’s not what scares me. True, it unsettles me, but it doesn’t scare me. The fear is coming from something else.

My art wants to expand. My creativity has grown itself some nice big wings while I wasn’t looking and now it wants to stretch them. It wants to experiment, to create, to try, to dream. It wants to stretch my work, and deepen it.

The creative urges that come up when I look inside are deep, raw, passionate, intense urges. They thrill me and terrify me at the same time. These are not paintings of small children frolicking in the park.

These are images of sadness and triumph, sensuality and vulnerability. There is darkness, and bright lights, despair and hope. All themes that show up in my work anyway, but multiplied by a million. And that scares the freaking bejeezers out of me.

Shame

Hello, Shame! So we meet again, do we?

All of that delicious creative energy, all of those deep, raw paintings, all of that stuff that is going to make me ridiculously happy – I’m blocking all of that. On purpose. Every time it comes near me, I squeal, duck and throw up a huge wall.

Get away, creativity! Get away!!

It’s okay, I can hear what you’re thinking. You’re an artist. Are you deranged or something? Blocking your own creativity? What is wrong with you?

I’m scared of that creative energy because it’s not safe. I would love it and trust it, but the people around me wouldn’t. The people I live with, God love them, wouldn’t get it.

“What is that? That’s weird. You can’t paint that. It’s not a bird. You should paint sheep. Or ducks!”

“You’re painting that? No one wants to see that. I hope you have no intention of showing anyone that.”

“You can’t sell things with feeling in them. No one wants to see feeling. You should stop painting clouds and stuff. Make happier paintings. Maybe a small child frolicking?”

“Tourist scenes! Yes, tourist scenes would be perfect. Lots of tourist scenes. How about Niagara Falls? Or some vineyards. You could sell vineyards.”

“If you decide to do this, if you decide to show this stuff, that’s it. You’ve ruined your career. No one is ever, EVER going to buy from you ever again. You’ll have effectively screwed yourself over, shot yourself in the foot. Don’t do it. I’m warning you.”

That’s the attitude I’ve gotten towards my art so far. My work is not crazy and dangerous. But those around me act like it is sometimes. Can you imagine what would happen if they saw what I really wanted to paint? It wouldn’t be pretty.

So the choice is now up to me – can I handle the shaming that would happen if I were to be true to my art? Can I handle the fallout?

Honestly, I don’t know. But my solution for now is to start creating in secret. To give myself time every day where I hide myself away and let whatever comes out, come out. No judgment, no exposure. Just letting it be.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll build up the courage to show it, and handle the fallout. We shall see.