Go-Go-Go vs. Taking Things Slow

Or: The Guilt Trip of Being an Artist

April 15, 2024

Before becoming a studio artist, I spent over three decades in marketing as a graphic designer and art director. In that role, I was happy to be a worker bee. Go to work every day, work hard, go home, repeat. It was productive, consistent. I enjoyed the problem-solving; getting results. I appreciated letting other people make the hard decisions. And, not to put too fine a point on it, I loved a consistent paycheck!

Despite (actually) liking my corporate career, I always joked about retiring. Getting up early, commuting, being away from home and my family every day… it was often very taxing. So, when that job ended, I thought I would LOVE sitting around, relaxing… and doing… not much? But that was not the case. I needed to do something. I needed purpose.

Now, I’m in charge. I make the rules. I make the decisions. I set the pace. It’s up to me to decide when to work, and what work to tackle. I literally dream about painting, so spending time in the studio isn’t a chore – it’s pure joy. And because of my background, I even enjoy (most of) the admin sides of the business. In short, I LOVE running my own business. I really put my all into it. I’m making it happen, and it’s very satisfying.

But this work is very different from my corporate job. The pace is ever-changing. Sometimes I work in the studio for long stretches of time, and then spend time in the evenings working on my computer, doing the “background stuff.” Other times, I step away. Give the work some room to breathe. Give myself more time to relax. 

I both thrive on consistency and rebel against it.

Meanwhile, this quote feels like it’s been burned into DNA:

“… do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”
- Benjamin Franklin 

What that means is that when I’m not filling every available minute doing something “useful,” I feel guilty. I absolutely hate the idea of “wasting time.” Even when my gut tells me to stay away from painting because I know I’m just going to make a mess of things, I feel like I’m failing. When I think I should take time to get outside for a walk in the fresh air, I usually talk myself out of it. And if I take that walk, I often feel – you got it – guilty. And don’t get me started on what my inner rebel has me do. (Coffee with a friend? Gasp!)

Working alone as I do, I often have a podcast going in the background. And often the topics I hear about hit me exactly when I need them. Just recently, I heard two perfectly timed episodes: Art Juice episode 246: Making Space for Creativity, and The Minimalists episode 435: Do Fewer Things. They both hit on exactly the issues that have been bothering me. The Art Juice episode is summarized thusly: “Do you ever find yourself rushing around, filling every moment, and then wondering why your art is disappointing? In today's conversation, we explore the topic of making space and allowing our art to breathe. Sometimes this means letting a single painting rest before working on it again, and sometimes it means taking a complete break to recharge and find new creative energy. For some people this comes easily - for others it can be extremely challenging.” 

Then, the Minimalists spoke with Cal Newport about the principles of “slow productivity,” and how we live in a society that thrives on busyness.  

Recently, I’ve been moving slowly. Haven’t posted a single thing on social media in weeks. I’ve been spending less time in the studio. And I’m not sure why. But, I’m trying to live by my “word of the year,” which is patience, so I’m trying to be patient with myself, giving myself grace when my gut is telling me to take my time, step away from painting (and scrolling). There must be a reason for this slowdown… maybe my brain is cooking up something in the background? (That does happen... really.) But that inner guilt is always there: You should be working. You should be working. You should be working. And don’t get me wrong: I LIKE the work. I LOVE the work. But I also need breaks. Creativity can be tough to keep in high gear all the time. I also want to enjoy my freedom and reap the benefits of being in charge. But wow, what a huge shift from my previous life! 

So… what’s the answer? Shockingly, I don’t know. In the Minimalists episode, Cal Newport talked about a man named John McPhee who used to literally lay on a picnic table and think about his writing for DAYS before putting pen to paper. And he was able to achieve amazing results working this way. He was a Pulitzer Prize winner, wrote 29 books… you get the idea. But on the outside, he looked lazy. Louise Fletcher on Art Juice talked a bit about Human Design, what you may think of as a woo-woo/new age system not unlike astrology. Her Human Design Type is a Manifestor, the same as mine. (I’ve scratched the surface of Human Design, and while I haven’t put too much energy or faith into it, I’ve had fun exploring the ideas on the surface.) While I won’t go into detail about Human Design, on one website* I read, “Manifestors are not designed to work long hours without rest. They need plenty of time to rest and recharge.” And, “Manifestors operate on bursts of energy, requiring periods of rest and recuperation.” Louise discussed this exact philosophy, and while that feels true for her, she’s historically led her life like a Generator, “characterized by their powerful and consistent energy.” I feel like I’ve had very similar experiences in my life. 

Maybe I don’t need to go all in on Human Design, or any specific ideology. Maybe grace, patience, and accepting that creative brilliance doesn’t happen from 9-5 on the daily is the way to go. I’m not talking about sitting around and waiting for inspiration. I know full well that showing up to work consistently is how to spark ideas and create great things.

I’m looking forward to my next great burst of creative energy, because I know I’ll be able to churn out an amazing amount of work quickly. But, until then, allowing for space, for rest, for ideas to percolate… these are things I want to nurture, not feel guilty about.

Like most of my paintings, I’m a work in progress!

I know… I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist the pun.

*(My apologies for not being able to cite my source.)