All my life I have been a closet creative: Doodling in margins, sketching in diaries, writing short stories, never EVER letting my creations see the light of day. I was a scientist you see, and I spent years of my life in an environment where creativity was…well, sort of frowned upon.
I envy people who know from a young age what they want to be when they grow up. I was never one of those people. My Mum always reminds me of the time I was 6 and she asked me what I wanted to be when I was older. I answered earnestly ‘I want to be a doctor!... or a dancer!... or a dinner lady!’ I always struggled with my need for creative expression on one hand and an analytical, academic mind on the other.
At some point over the years I picked up all sorts of negative messages about art: Art is self-indulgent and frivolous. Art is a hobby not a calling. Art is a fall-back option for people who don’t do well in school. The tortured artist, the starving artist. And the biggest lie of them all: Artists are inherently talented, you have to be good.
I’m not sure where I got all these negative messages from, because I was raised surrounded by incredibly talented, creative, free thinking people. But I was always praised for my intelligence, not my creativity. And I spent years, literally years, of my life trying to force myself into a role that other people had defined for me.
So I went to study Biology at university. At first I thrived, but very quickly it became apparent that something big was missing from my life. I stopped drawing, even in secret, I stopped writing, I stopped even reading for pleasure. Instead I read textbooks and scientific journals. I wrote lab reports and essays. The closest I came to letting my creative side out was designing presentation slides (which by the way, I rocked at!) I found some relief in field work and travel, the hands on stuff, and I was determined, just once in my life to stick at something. So I did. I dragged myself through the final year of university, barely passing my degree, and I emerged the other side exhausted, depressed and starving for a creative outlet.
A year after graduating I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). I was living in a new town where I knew no one, I was struggling to pay rent and I was too sick to work.  I turned to art journaling as a way of healing and suddenly it was like something came unstuck. The flood gates opened and all this stuff came pouring out. I drew and painted and doodled and learned to felt and dye and spin and it felt like such a huge relief. Slowly but surely I began to reclaim that elusive ‘something’ that had been missing. I felt complete. I started relating to the world around me in new ways. I realized that this was what I was supposed to do along.
Then came the self-sabotaging excuses: I couldn’t just quit the career I’d worked so hard at to become an artist! I had no training! No one would take me seriously! I had bills to pay! I wasn’t good! (The prize for ridiculous excuses goes to: ‘I don’t have the space!’)
So I muddled along working casual jobs and guiltily spent what little money I had on art supplies, furtively creating in my spare time. This time I was brave enough to share the results with my partner. Sometimes. If he begged. Slowly, and with a little encouragement, I got braver.
Two years further down the line, I got married and moved across the Atlantic to Austin, Texas. I have a craft room, spare time, and no financial worries. I have run out of excuses entirely and finally, finally, I got the message: I am an artist. Okay, maybe a baby artist. It doesn’t matter if I’m trained, it doesn’t matter if I’m good, it doesn’t matter if I never make a penny at it, I create art because I can’t not create.
So, it’s time to make a stand.  At some point you just have to call yourself an artist, take a deep breath, and put your work out into the world. I guess that’s the point of this blog. It’s me setting my intent to make art my priority. It’s a safe space for me to tentatively share my creations. Who knows, it might even encourage others who just need a little push.Â
