A Lonely Canvas
After yesterday’s trip to the fine art fair, I was hoping that the experience would spark enough inspiration for me to start something new or finally finish one of the projects I had already begun. This morning, I got up and walked into my dining room, which I’ve converted into a makeshift studio, and surveyed the work I had started. Instead of seeing progress, I could only focus on the flaws in each piece. The critical voices in my mind seemed louder than ever, echoing the sentiment that my work simply isn’t good enough.
Feeling discouraged, I set my projects aside and glanced at the supplies I had purchased with the intention of exploring new ideas. Rather than excitement, the sight of these unused materials brought a familiar tightening and anxiety to my chest. The pressure of not living up to my own expectations—and the fear of never measuring up—was overwhelming.
In an effort to regain some sense of direction, I decided to make yet another list of ideas, hoping that something new might come to mind since last night. I am aware that this habit of list-making is a coping mechanism, a way to feel as though I’m accomplishing something even when I’m not. Over the years, I’ve created countless lists that remain incomplete, but the very act of writing them gives me a fleeting sense of control over my life, especially when everything else feels uncertain.
I often find myself wondering how others manage to put themselves out there so confidently. They seem to handle criticism and rejection without a second thought, continuing to create, post, and build impressive followings. Social media, in particular, is something I struggle with. I started an account a few years ago and tried posting, but I couldn’t make it grow or gain any real traction. Part of my hesitation comes from the belief that each post needs to be something truly special—I worry about being annoying or sharing things that no one cares about. The pressure to post daily is overwhelming, especially when I feel I don’t have enough content that’s good or interesting enough to share. Ironically, I enjoy photography, but I haven’t taken any decent product pictures to feature.
Creating a website feels just as daunting. I’ve never built one before, and the thought of it is overwhelming—who would even look at it? At the core, I just want to focus on making art, yet so much of what’s considered being a “real artist” seems to have little to do with actual talent. This leads me to question myself: do I truly want to pursue art and make something of it? What is it that I’m so afraid of?
I often ask myself why simply creating for my own enjoyment, learning new techniques, and pursuing the projects and skills on my wish list never feels like enough. Even as I try to explore these interests, something always seems to hold me back. The doubts and uncertainty can be overwhelming, leaving me feeling stuck and frustrated. At times, it all just feels like too much to handle.
Tonight, rather than confronting these feelings directly, I chose to seek comfort in small rituals—making a pizza and opening a cold beer. It’s my way of pressing pause on reality, allowing myself a brief escape before I have to return to the demands of work tomorrow.
