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It saddens me that productivity has become such an obsession, especially in the art world, where it is treated as a measure of worth, success, and seriousness. We have confused being productive with being valuable, as if the only way to prove yourself and be a successful artist (whatever that means) is to be constantly making. There is a difference between being dedicated to your work and feeling pressured to constantly produce. We can be deeply committed to our art while resting, grieving, caring for someone, or simply living. Hilma af Klint paused work on The Paintings for the Temple for four years to care for her blind and ailing mother. Agnes Martin abruptly stopped painting in 1967 for seven years, overwhelmed by the pressures of the New York art world and struggling with mental health challenges. Bill Traylor was born into slavery in Alabama and did not begin making work until he was in his eighties. In the late 1930s, while homeless in Montgomery, he began making work on discarded cardboard and found materials. Harper Lee wrote one of the most beloved novels of the twentieth century, To Kill a Mockingbird, and would not publish another novel for 55 years. We can take long breaks, stop and start again, or begin at any age. Our worth as artists cannot be measured by how much we make or how often we make it. The truth about being an artist is that some of the work lives inside us for a very long time before we make it visible. Much of it may never manifest, but that does not make it any less relevant or important. In fact, it only reinforces how sacred it is. We don't have to force it into the world to prove anything. Offer yourself the same compassion you so freely extend to others, and trust that when the time is right, you will make the work you are meant to make on your own terms, without being ruled by the voices outside yourself. Reflection: Rest and be kind. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody.
(Inspired by Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums)
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