The room is dark, a half functioning typewriter sits next to a leaky window rattling with every distant rhythmic growl of thunder. An ember from a cheap cigarette lights the face of a man with cheekbones that are carved from missed meals and insomnia. He struggles to put out the cigarette in his ashtray full of his addiction. He looks at the face down picture frame on his desk. Even though he can’t see her face, he knows exactly what she’d say right now. It’s what she’d always say. He cracks his knuckles as he reaches for the typewriter. His vision is blurred, his mouth is dry and burning, but yet he writes. And with the final ding of the typewriter’s carriage he pulls out the final page of his manuscript. It’s his best work. And for some reason, it was only able to happen because his life is a tragedy.
Or at least that’s what decades of media has told artists.
Being considered an artist is a lofty thing; a gatekept realm of martyrs and saints, icons and messiahs. It’s a moniker that easily exposes those who attempt to wear the crown, and all they do is draw silly little guys. Which is what imposter syndrome tells artists every single day.
How dare you attempt to make something beautiful for the world. Eww, gross, you’re using your talents and perspective to create unique and enjoyable characters and stories that aren’t rife with biblical symbolism? Your pigments aren’t constructed by your own blood, bone, and tears?
Good, because that’s insane. I have some really important things to get out of the way in this blog post. Feel free to repeat after me:
- It’s ok to call yourself an artist
- Your creativity doesn’t depend on others’ approval
- “Imperfection” is the fingerprint of your own style, embrace it
- Art isn’t meant for social media
- Fuck AI
As an artist, it’s difficult to find the motivation to create in a world that doesn’t appreciate the effort it takes to make something. No matter your level of talent, it can be incredibly daunting to start, let alone complete, a project. The effort of just sitting down to make something is worth celebrating. However, waiting around for a spiritually inspired idea from the cosmos is a waste of time.
Creativity is an expression, it needs to be poured out, released. Having it build up and calcify your mind because you’re not sure you can make a Louvre worthy piece is the wrong way of thinking. Consider this, a body builder doesn’t just start at 400lb deadlifts. There are small steps, small expressions and exercises that get them to the point of doing something massive. These small expressions can be as simple as doodling on a napkin, journaling, or spending time with like minded individuals. These small things allow your creative muscle to grow, develop, and articulate in ways that can be surprising.
But of course, this is all easier said than done. How do you find a community of creatives? How do you keep yourself accountable in accomplishing those little expressions? How do you stay motivated to create in a world that’s constantly on fire?
Well, lucky for you, that’s why we made Dojo. It’s a place where you can let your guard down. A place you can feel safe to create, make mistakes, learn from others, and build your own healthy creative habits. We’re dedicated to making the world a more creative place, and encouraging others to think differently about how they see artists. Forget the “Starving Artist” cliche, we’re here to make Thriving Artists.
We’re so glad you’re here. Now let’s go make something amazing.
