I’ve been thinking a lot about my art practice and why it’s so damn important to me to create. It seems to me that if I just get my head around my “why” I will have direction—and peace.

Because right now? No peace.

I am constantly questioning WHY I CREATE at all—and that “why” throws me into a brain spin working to answer that question—instead of making art.

I KNOW what my inner critic is up to (the more art you make the more you understand your inner self). She is scared to death of making art. Every time we begin a a new piece, she is afraid for me. Maybe this time I won’t be able to do it. SO…she keeps throwing this question at me to distract me from actually making art.

Why are you doing this at all?

And I take the bait. I don’t have an easy answer! I don’t know! Oh my gosh, why AM I creating art? And off I go…in my journal…in my studio staring down a blank page…tossing and turning, not sleeping, turning that question over and over in my head.

It kind of drives me crazy, but the good thing is that I don’t let her stop me—at least for long. I keep showing up to my art practice, a practice I’ve set up in my almost daily life. I don’t let my inner critic win—because, again, I KNOW this is fear talking and I KNOW it will recede once I start (every day, every new piece). And furthermore…when fear is finally quiet and I enter in that creative flow state, I KNOW there lies my answer.

But.

I really, really, REALLY want to stop asking—and spinning around—that question. I want to KNOW in my bones and in my heart, why I make art.

So this is what I know for sure (Oprah-like):

I know I enjoy making art. So much so that I have invested over the years in a lot of materials and a lot of learning—but mostly I’ve invested a lot of time. Because I LOVE it. I love to create.

But I keep asking—but why? Who am I doing it FOR? Most artists create work to share with the world—and in fact, some people define art as something someone created TO share with the world. And I think about the kinds of artists out there…novelists, musicians, fine artists…they make art for an audience.

Me? I draw and paint and collage, fill papers and sketchbooks and art journals with my art—for myself. I don’t (yet) have a physical space to share it with others like a book or a stage or a gallery wall. I do post some of my work on instagram just so my work sails past eyes other than my own…but yeah, I mostly create fro myself.

AND THAT DOESN’T FEEL LIKE ENOUGH.

Which freaks me out, because next comes all these internal judgements. If I create only for myself that makes me and selfish and self indulgent.

I KNOW BETTER.

These judgements are thoughts—limited beliefs—that I’ve adopted from family and culture: and It’s kind of a doubly whammy.

First, I am not enough, the belief goes; I am selfish, self indulgent. Art making is only worthwhile IF it is FOR someone else besides me . it’s like I believe that my experience is not worthy of having unless someone else experiences it. What?

And then, even if I believed I was enough, in our society we are not doing enough if we are not productively working within a clear business model—”contributing” as defined by a society that values creating capital. This is a belief we have all adopted from a culture that steeps us in it from practically our first breath.

Once I look at these judgement consciously, clearly my experience of my life is my experience, there is far more to life than narrow capitalist purpose, and I don’t need others to validate what I do or experience.

I am enough and it is enough to make art for myself.

Finally, not only do I know I enjoy making art and that I am worthy of enjoying it with no other reason needed—I also know that there is a paradox that lies at the center of all art making for all artists of all mediums…

Art making is for ourselves AND it is for others. Art making is a gift to ourselves. We learn and grow and connect with something much larger than ourselves when we create—and this is a gift to ourselves but it is also a gift we have to share with others. And once we have a gift to give, the desire grows to give it.

But the thing is, we HOPE that we can create something—, a piece of writing, a film, a clay bowl, a comic, a dance, a song, a canvas—hell, a symphony, a production, a space or an event or even one moment—that will move others in some way. Whether its beauty or truth, a laugh or an insight, an emotional breakthrough or a joyful good time.

But we only have that potential gift to give if we are moved ourselves. We have to enter into the experience of making and pull out that something to be expressed—from our own hearts.

I know the only way to to make art that might —might — impact others is to make it for myself.

So I’ve come full circle. I make art for myself…which I criticize myself for…but in fact the only way to make art for others IS to make art for myself.

And yes, I’m worth it.