By Megan Piunti
Making art, in whatever form you gravitate towards, can be second nature. Falling into that state of creative flow, you don’t have to think about what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. You hardly notice the time pass as your whole self is devoted to bringing this thing into existence, a thing that is uniquely yours, and you can’t imagine yourself doing anything else. Very few things beat this feeling.
But we can’t stay in our flow forever, and the moments between can grow longer with self-doubt settling in its place. Insecurities rise to the surface that challenge our creative process: is my work meaningful? Or original? Or good? (As if anyone is capable of giving an objective answer to any of those.) Confidence weakens under the weight of others’ perceptions of us as artists until we are forced to look at our own work and ask “Does this deserve to be seen?”
This question can feel even heavier to artists who create conceptual work because the purpose of making it is typically for it to be shared with others. Their work is a method of expression. The materials, the colors, and the way it is displayed were all carefully chosen to effectively communicate the artist’s message to the viewer. Conceptual art is elevated when it serves as a catalyst for a larger conversation or gets a strong reaction out of people. But sometimes, the purpose of a work of art is purely aesthetic and there is no grand intention or message behind it. In this case, sharing the art may not give it any more value than if it was only ever seen by the artist.
With landscapes, still lifes, and other representational works the artist is less expressive, but they are still communicating something about their perspective of the world by what they chose to capture and how they went about bringing it to life. Sharing this type of art is typically driven more by personal taste or admiration for the artist, recognizing their talent for capturing an image that resonates with the viewer. It is less about elevating the art itself or understanding what it might be trying to say, but that doesn’t diminish the ability to appreciate the art for what it is.
Most works of art will fall somewhere on the spectrum between these two focuses — concept and technique. It’s a balance between what the artist is trying to say and what they are trying to listen to. Depending on how far the artist leans in either of these directions, their work can be polarizing to viewers. Someone might be impressed by the skill and commitment that it takes to create very technique-focused art and have a lot of respect or admiration for those artists. Someone else might really enjoy conceptual art that challenges their understanding but be completely bored by representational art.
Wondering if your art is good enough to be shared is an easy trap to fall into, and an even more difficult one to get out of, because you will never find an answer. A threshold for what is considered “good” art can’t exist when everyone’s opinions and tastes are different. But if you can recognize this and get past that hesitation to put your work out there, a whole new way of communicating with people on a deeply personal level becomes available to you. Creating art is an act of vulnerability, opening yourself to judgment. Not everyone will connect with what you say or create, but that shouldn’t prevent you from sharing it with the people who will.
We can’t control or predict how anyone will react to our art, or if they will appreciate and understand it in the same way we do. It can be discouraging, but these different interpretations are what makes art so interesting. Maybe sharing our art isn’t a right that needs to be earned. Maybe it should be seen as a privilege accessible to anyone who creates.
By Megan Piunti
I like to paint, and I like to share my paintings with others. My work is much more representational than conceptual, which I have often felt insecure about. I once heard that really great art should embarrass the artist a little, and I am certainly not achieving levels of great, embarrassing art with my willow trees and orchids. Since my work doesn’t have a strong message behind it, it can be hard to see a purpose to sharing it (and sometimes, a purpose for it to exist). It’s comforting when other people compliment my paintings, but that shouldn’t validate their existence. My enjoyment of creating them, of finding that state of creative flow, should.
I used to focus on sharing my paintings before they were completed (or even started) as a self-motivation tactic. Assigning myself a goal with external factors gave me another reason to paint, which resulted in a larger body of work. I still enjoyed the process, but I was more focused on finishing paintings than I was on making each piece meaningful. If I want to feel more satisfied with my paintings, I need to remove the pressure I’ve placed on them to be appreciated by anyone but me.
We all express ourselves in different ways. Because I was talented at drawing as a kid, I was encouraged to pursue visual arts. I assumed this was the way I was meant to express myself, but painting from my imagination doesn’t come as naturally to me. My favorite thing about painting is that it can be meditative. I like turning the thinking part of my brain off, just focusing on understanding and capturing what I see. When it comes to self-expression, writing makes more sense to me (so I try to embarrass myself that way instead). Maybe one day I will find inspiration to make my artwork more expressive or imaginative. But for now, when I paint, my willow tree can just be a willow tree.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to share whatever it is you create, and you don’t need to justify your reason for sharing it. It is an incredible thing to make something uniquely yours and have the ability and confidence to put it out into the world. Although, sometimes we might need to be reminded to create for ourselves — for whatever it is we want to express or want to understand — and not for the sake of sharing it.
