the inner critic

Most people have voices in their head whether they are conscious of the voices or not.  Obviously, hearing voices can become extreme for some to the point of neurosis or worse, schizophrenia, but I am referring to a normal inner dialogue as it flows through our thoughts.  Sometimes we are not aware of the multiplicity within ourselves and we can be unknowingly influenced by thoughts (inner messages to ourself from ourself) such as judgements, biases, fears, obsessions.  This is putting it quite simple and the matter is truly more complex, but I mean to address the inner voice of the critic.

For myself, the inner critic showed up very early in my life (perhaps around the age of 6?), and represented a compass for finding acceptance from the world outside myself.  I believe this is a common condition with children and young people wherein, we find that we can get through this world much easier if we can just find out what other people like, accept, enjoy, approve, and generally believe successful.  These external influences collect into what Freud called the SuperEgo - the moral regulator! - and it's up to us to find out how those internalized impressions and expectations either work for us or against us.  Each of us also has an unique internal orientation that works with or against the external orientation - altogether, our inner leanings and our outer parameters are the basis for our decisive powers.  External orientation may work well within our family, school, and workplace but can fail us as we expand our connections and communities and begin to feel pulled in different directions without knowing which is right or best for us.  Further, despite lack of practice with inner orientation, the inner knowing (call it "gut feelings," intuition, and at best, essential Self) is nevertheless there.  Without our consciousness for it or choosing to engage this inner orientation into the authorship of our own life, we can feel tension as the external orientation of our Superego can conflict with our unique inner knowing.

I am thinking of the ways in which, as an artist, I have resisted inclinations to make some kind of art because the inner critic (made up of external codes and voices from throughout my early life) hinted at some absurdity in my inclination.  I think of all the times I have attempted to reach something deeper in my creative work and the difficulty and the unfamiliarity of the creative terrain raised red flags with the SuperEgo.  I am halted in my exploration of my prima materia as the part of me that has to "fit into the world" demands that I "use my time wisely" and focus on more practical skills.   How does anyone actually engage in creative work, the response to exploring one's prima materia, if the conscious mind, oriented by conventional rules, does not permit opening the door to one's unconscious dwelling?

I've been reading a selection of Carl Jung's essays regarding creativity, imagination and, of course, the work of psychoanalysis, and he speaks of the inner critic as a "cramp" in consciousness.  Yes, I find that the inner critic (voicing, "Why am I doing this?" or "How is this weird work valuable in the 'real' world?" as I try to make my art) is most definitely a cramp!  As with a cramp during exercise, we must learn to take care of the cramp in order to continue with our work.  A cramp should not stop us from ever exercising again!  Likewise, a mental cramp can not keep us from engaging with our irrational mind and thereby engaging our creative work.  In discussing this matter with a musician the other day, he talked of practicing scales for as long as he needed in order to pass beyond the physical and practical work of it and begin to hear the potential for creating music.  Artists may have to engage with the base material of their work for totally irrational amounts of time in order to achieve the alchemical potential that exists between themselves and their media.  Meanwhile the Superego objects, "Spending 3 hours practicing music scales to then be able to compose?!  Do we really have 5 hours to spend on music today?"  The answer, for an artist of any kind is, irrationally, YES!

Cross-stitch for months... and months... and so much time that the artwork becomes the time spent.  My external rules of "using time wisely," the SuperEgo heckles me from my shoulder, "Why are you spending so much TIME on this project?!" and I have to think in response, because I am an artist, and this is my work.

Though seemingly an obvious idea, often a forgotten imperative of the artist is that doing creative work is of utmost importance to the artist.  We forget how imperative the work is as the rational (industrial, capitalist, media driven) world opposes the irregular, irrational and costly work of art-making.  How many conversations have I had with artists where they actually say, "I have to make my work.  Otherwise, how would I live?  I would die."  It's not a matter of fitting into a schematic of practical use and monetization.  It's a matter of realizing one's need to work with unconscious material (that which comes from within and does not follow the codes of the rational world) because otherwise, it would eventually mount up within us and consume us with it's energy.  Better to engage with it regularly and make it workable and useful within the context of our creative work.  The creative work then becomes the actualization of the whole person, the irrational material of the unconscious balanced by the systems and skill sets of the conscious ego.

Some may believe that creative work is not about the actualization of the whole person and can exist in the realm of practical work.  This is plausible, but I am not that artist.  There are enough aesthetically designed objects in this world without my making my artwork so practical and prolific and commonly available in the lives of many (this practicality is the kind of resistance my Superego puts upon me).  I find resonance in Jung's words, "Everything good is costly, and the development of personality [unique selfhood] is one of the most costly of all things.  It is a matter of saying yea to oneself, of taking oneself as the most serious of tasks, of being conscious of everything one does, and keeping it constantly before one's eyes in all its dubious aspects - truly a task that taxes us to the utmost."

The inner critic says, "The task is too much; we need not dive so deeply.  There is plenty of creative work to do without going so far."  But I willfully say, the work of the artist is to dive into the unconscious depths and trust that the inner critic can become instead the tether that keeps us connected with our conscious realm.

All references to Jung's writing in this post are specific to an excerpt from Alchemical Studies (1929) (CW 13) pars. 17 - 45

symbols

Did I mention that I suffered a dog-bite on my hand a few days before Christmas?  The purpose of pointing that out is that my hand was far less "on the team" then usual, and it was my right hand, so I began reading like I haven't read in years.  When your creative productivity goes down, the need for another point of focus grows.  The great thing is getting through to the blocked self-permit needed to allow myself the "luxury" of just sitting and reading!  I love reading, and I'm glad to be back in the swing of it.

The books have been novels by Sara Gruen, Wally Lamb, and non-fiction by Marion Woodman, Judith Duerk, C. G. Jung and poetry by Mary Oliver.

The strength and common thread through all of their writings has been the search for self and the attention to symbols for self knowing.  Little by little, I turn further toward the importance of symbols in dreams, journaling and relationships, and my art becomes a more overt conduit for depicting and understanding those symbols.  The critical thinking that takes shape through meditation (through art making) on a symbol or symbolic image is, what I'll now call (thanks Jung), alchemical.  As in meditation, this thinking is non linear, abstract and holistic, but instead of using the process to check out, it seems there is an opportunity to check in.  Over the years, my inability to intelligently express abstract ideas through verbal language played into a weakness of mine - fear of fraudulence and stupidity.  In lieu of depicting what is bizarre, raw, abstract or confusing from my creative mind, I have protected myself (checked out) through organizing my art within public comfort zones, thus avoiding putting tender vulnerability on the "chopping block."  To be honest, I think higher Ed for artists should specifically address and engage (check in) with this vulnerability, abstraction and confusion as much or MORE than it stresses professionalism and competitive, art-market stuff.

So, being that I don't currently participate in the art market, who's doing the "chopping?"  Inevitably, myself.  And I'll say, I don't believe that my work up until the recent past was shallow or less important.  There were courageous and bold efforts, personal expression and worthwhile risks to be applauded.  I am especially glad to have made artwork with and for a dance company, made large, site specific installations, and to have learned to take A LOT of time on projects instead of pressuring myself to be prolifically productive.  The difference then was that, even though the natural symbols and effects of myself came through in my projects, I wanted to express ideas that were related to life outside of me.  Perhaps that was the framework for my art that seemed necessary in order to talk about it and share it with people, relating to what is more conventionally understood.  I believe many of those works started as the more cryptic and personal visual language of my own ways and being.  Then, much of the project was steered by my impressions of public perception and acceptance, leaving the initial abstract vision to be reformed and polished (Errr...  chopped).

Depicting abstract symbols of my psyche felt awkward and exposed.   Does this relate to a college art critique wherein a peer student mocked my symbolic artwork (or so I thought he mocked my work)?  I think that moment indicated to me that not only was I "weird" outside of the art world, but even amongst peers I was weird, and that felt like a chopping block.  That moment did not end badly, my other peers and my professors weren't addressing my work that way, but, it did provoke a paranoia in me.  I have always picked up on the comments and critiques of "art professionals" and I have been hung in the balance of "is it too weird?"  "Is it weird enough?" and "Will they like it?"

In contrast, Nikki Giovanni teaches her students to ask a question more like, "Do I like it and is it good enough for me?"

The superego-boombox that I have long shouldered adopted that self-conscious and insecure perspective that tells you that others' impressions of your work come first and your personal journey is submissive to it.  If others saw my work as weird or confusing, then I had to make my work more understandable or just minimal in aesthetic so that there were few overt symbolic messages.  (I do love minimalism and my most minimal art has been a great relief and comfort to me.)  If someone whom I respected as an artist/art professional made a dismissive remark regarding some symbol or symbolic imagery that feels important to me, I would adopt that dismissive thinking and the superego would remark, "yes, now you know where to draw the line with your vulnerability."

An artist peer of mine once groaned, "Ugh!  Self portraits!" with a grossed out expression.  I have no idea why she would be dismissive and repulsed by self portraiture - perhaps it is too often a mode of self expression which is difficult to face?  At that time, I was courageously making more self portraits, including much symbolism otherwise, and I immediately felt I had to keep my current work "mum."  Thankfully, I did not keep mum beyond our conversation, but her words and expression goaded me, confirming my Superego's fearful message, "yes, keep it to yourself."

This was my first artwork after chaos time (see below), also a first effort at grandly portraying personal symbolism.  

Keeping it to oneself - a harsh contrast to the creative self, the artist.  So here's the thing that springs up in me as my new tour de force in life:  It's YOU, it's YOURs, it's BEING and it's HUMAN.  The social structure that was set up for you was not what you needed in order to make YOUR ART.

Chaotic events occurred in my life (yes, chaos, like murder and death), which brought me to the bottom and to the darkest place.  In that depth I realized, there's no time to lose, there's no other life to live, there's no need to succumb to any program for life other than my own intuitive and real desires. Making my artwork can and does reflect all of this.

Carl Jung points out that when we shine a light onto our shadow, we find darkness, and that is rightfully so.

Ever since (what I've usually called) the chaos time, there has been a slow, subversive energy and thought process that has recently become more the leader as I engage life and art.  I've learned to temper the superego with intuition and allow abstract thinking/feeling it's rightful role in my art making.  Symbolism, which has always been apparent to me, even when suppressed or confusing, now regains it's rightful role in my art-making and in my self-making.

A very recent watercolor/drawing, an effort to play into the stream of consciousness and allow whatever comes up.  Much like dream analysis, I can look at the image after the fact and see or follow clues from the subconscious mind.

head in the (lavender) clouds

A few weeks ago, I said, "I desired my own creative spotlight on my own life's main stage." 

I'm realizing, via the duality (even more than two aspects) of the self, that I am the performer and the audience (and the critic).  I am the voice and the listener (and the editor).  I am the creator and the beloved (and the destructive).  From a jungian point of view, one of these aspects of self may grow to become stronger than the others.  For me, it has been the self that is critic, editor and destructive.  It has been a path of self disregard in my art-making and avoiding the embodiments of voice, ear, hand, heart, dance, and the body that feels the result of these embodiments.

Seven years ago, when I first arrived in Denver, I met a man who, after we had become friends, told me he has intuitive abilities.  Because he was exploring this ability as a second career, he asked if he could practice with me as the subject.  I gladly obliged.  I've always loved hearing about myself and thinking about myself!  He said many great and grave things about me as we sat facing each other with our eyes closed.  He didn't describe my history or my future and he didn't ask questions other than to ask if what he was saying sounded familiar to me.  He described visions that he could see in and around my body.  One of the most poignant that has stayed with me since then was his description of a misty, lavender cloud around my head that was creative energy.  He spoke of my brain holding a sharp and perfect diamond, a representation of my honed and perfected intellect.  He told me that the creative aura was meant to be embodied, but as long as the diamond continued to be my priority, that separation would remain between my body and the creative.

My head, my rationality, my intellect, my ego - the diamond - all of these things are so highly valued in the world, but perhaps these as foundation are flimsier than we understand and keep us from living a wholehearted existence.  I am fearful of letting any other aspect of myself guide me and direct my work because the intuitive, creative essence may be perceived as wild and chaotic.  The reality is, as long as I focus on the diamond, which needs no more perfecting, I forget the heart, the body, the soul, the spirit, the unknowing knower, the Intuitive that is me.  What may be perceived as wild and chaotic is, in fact, the creative self, the one who knows without knowing

Recently, I listened to an inspiring interview between Krista Tippett (interviewer of radio show/podcast On Being) and Artist - self titled, Maker, Ann Hamilton.  Ms Tippett said that it is "humanizing when we rediscover [needlepoint, knitting, hand-crafts, etc.]" in a discussion with Ann Hamilton about her work as a textile artist.  Ms. Hamilton talks about it as "embodied knowledge."  The making, the putting on of the hands and trusting one's intuition to make the thing that exists from somewhere inside you, this is a kind of knowing.  It is not revered in our society's traditions because it is not cerebral.  Unfortunately, we can get stuck in the process of art-making at that moment when we realize we are in the body and not in the head.  Ann Hamilton discusses this as the moment when we "give it away" because it is not understood, we couldn't complete the work, it was impossible to describe or prove.  

[W]hen you’re making something, you don’t know what it is for a really long time.  So, you have to kind of cultivate the space around you, where you can trust the thing that you can’t name. And, if you feel a little bit insecure, or somebody questions you, or you need to know what it is, then what happens is you give that thing that you’re trying to listen to away.   [S]o how do you kind of cultivate a space that allows you to dwell in that — not knowing, really[?]  That [which] is actually really smart.  And can become really articulate.  But, you know, like the thread has to come out, and it comes out at its own pace. 

[my edits]

In this interview (please listen!), I find that Krista Tippett and Ann Hamilton are describing the wild and the chaos that I fear, but they are describing it in much more humble and settled reality.  I have felt anxious about releasing into my creative power because I have worried that the power would hit me like a tidal wave!  In reality, I am already doing the work that is the wild and the chaos and it is as quiet as I need it to be so that I can breathe the wildness and relax into the realm of unknowing.  I am making quilts by which I immerse myself in color and repetition and process.  I am making cross-stitch images that offer me time for intense meditation and thinking.  

Regarding this realization about the wild as quiet and the chaos as freedom, this is what Tippet and Hamilton's discussion has left with me: 

• The work has to come at its own pace. 
• When the articulation hasn't yet come and it's too early to define the work, cultivate the space around it and protect the unknowing.
• Dwell in the not-knowing and resist giving it away before you come to know how to articulate. 
• Believe that your embodied knowledge (the knowledge of the senses and of the soul) has authority.
• The wilderness is medicine, chaos offers freedom, and neither were ever in effect to harm.

  

Self, with a capital "S"

To live creatively is a choice. You must make a commitment to your own mind and the possibility that you will not be accepted. You have to let go of satisfying people, often even yourself. 

-Jessica Olien

This year has been a year of throwing off the urge to satisfy others' expectations and norms.  Even though for most of my life I have been doing or working at doing this (Public school in the 90s - "Be yourself!"), there is a lingering code of "right vs. wrong" that causes tension within my Self.  Dealing with this tension is an important thing, but I also see it as a diversion from the living and realizing that is particularly me.

Jessica Olien's writing on Slate.com about the acceptance-or-not of the Creatives in our culture is a message that highlights the root of this tension I refer to.  Read the article here.

My wish for the world is that we can self-realize.  Creative or not, consider who you want to be (I think this comes from knowing who you really are), and be that person.  No time to lose.  Never too late.

Self, graphite + colored pencil on paper, 2013