Sometimes.. Oh. Who am I kidding? OFTEN, when I sit down to write, I’m overcome with the sheer amount of information available online. I’m bogged down when I consider the millions of people who also sit down to write, save, and publish their own post, article, essay. All the noise, all the value, all the wastes of time, and priceless gorgeous words. (Don’t even get me started on the tangible books worth reading, outside of all digital consumption.) Then I think, am I contributing to the noise? Is this just another article, post, or essay, that an empowered person deservedly purges from their life?
AND THEN I think, “Manda, you better create value. You better write something worth saying that hits deep. Or makes people laugh. Or at the very least, keeps them from hitting that unsubscribe button. It better matter to someone.” And I hold my images to this very same standard.
Since starting a casual newsletter at the beginning of the year, self imposed pressure has been real. I’ve lost a few subscribers, and haven’t gained anyone in a while. I’m not internalizing this exactly. Promotion and value retention are both big deals in the modern age. It’s the name of the game. But the whole process continues to make me feel icky, to the point that if I’m going to promote something, it better damn well be worth making noise about. It better transcend.
I’ve attempted to take this picture of rocks on the shore since the first time I set foot on the west coast. Finally, light, settings, and editing have aligned and THIS is the image I’ve been trying to get for over a decade. See? Standards aren’t always a bad thing.
The harder part to this is it isn’t exactly bad. We should have standards with the work we put out. But the perfectionist spiral keeps us in an internal whirlpool and doesn’t serve anyone. You get to the point of out “art”ing yourself. Something is so “art”ed, layered in “art,” steeped in “art,” with a side of “art” that nothing looks good anymore, nothing feels good any more. The honest plot you started with is a muddled fuddled “art”y mess.
This summer, the work I’ve made, what little there is, feels like noise. It doesn’t seem like the right thing to spent time on, when other things are begging for the resource. I’ve made huge investments in our home, with our kids, our 5 acres, doing the invisible things that are hard to quantify, but noticed when missed. I’ve used my creativity to resolve conflicts, solve issues within a too small house, navigate coordinating life (which we all do). These are blessings, truly, to be able to do and put serious time into. But, what are you willing to give time to, and how much time can you afford to give? My partner said something that hit me pretty hard a couple weeks, ago:
“If I gave everything the time it wanted from me, I would have no time at all.”
Dang. And also, if you’ve unsubscribed from anything that’s robbing you today, good for you!
This week I’ve shot a few images, just for giggles. AND, I’m finally editing some trip images I’ve been too creatively burned out to look at.
I don’t know if any of it “matters” but if I’m going to do this, if it’s going to be important to me, the work should be fought for. Struggle through the creative doldrums, do the hard work of being honest. Often, the easy path is, in fact, to beat ourselves up and let the current take us. Familiarity in self sabotage feels safe.
So, in what’s left of summer I’m making a tiny internal promise to pick up the camera more for art, wade through the noise with purpose, and seek out honesty in my creative actions. I need to stop avoiding and start back to doing. Thanks for reading, thanks for being willing to hang with the inconsistency of this creative gal’s output, the change in scope of words, images, concepts.
Happy Summer!
