I need to explain some complexities of my personality to properly tell you where I’m going lately.

The first is that I spend a lot of time in introspection – in my head. I think A LOT. I stare a blank walls and papers, A LOT. I am not easily bored. All of that thinking leads to little discoveries that excite me and I love to experience those little excitements and surprises. And then, I condense those thoughts down to bite-size chunks, which I share in blurbs on social media.

As a result, you see the squished up version of my brain on a regular basis, if you watch my posts. But the implication of that is multi-tiered.

One – I come off as being very heady and connected to my deepest emotions at all times. I’m not.

Two – I don’t show you my…fun?…personality a lot. Fun is definitely the wrong word. I’ve literally never described myself that way. So…maybe…free-spirited? or restless? or disjointed? or laid-back? or…

In any case, three – Sharing those little blurbs means that I’m not sharing the works-in-progress – the thoughts that jumble up and make less sense and feel more and desire condensation but aren’t ready for that.

So, here I am. Journaling. Letting anyone who wants to be here into my brain in a less curated way. The result: voice memos, journal-style vlogging where I’ll share all the different types of creativity I’m up to, and more laid-back sharing of content no matter the genre.

I’ll share updates about my novel-writing process, the new photo series I’m working on (both of them!), my sculpture projects, and more.

What does more include? Well…hiking (where I location scout and find inspiration), reading (where I imaginary location scout and find inspiration), traveling ( where I dream location scout and find inspiration)…speaking of dreams, I’d love to tell you about mine. They’re terrifying. Nights are exciting in my house.

So, here we are in journal one.

And here’s what I’m feeling.

Anxious. Because, well…I want to be more vulnerable. But even that is a lesson and a chore, because it doesn’t always come easy. I’m a really private person and will remain that way in my personal life. So sometimes it’s hard to separate creativity from personal stuff. And sometimes that makes vulnerability hard. But it can work, and here I am, trying.

Fulfilled. Because I know that detailing my adventures in creativity and inspiration will bring me even more depth and inspiration.

Silly. Because…who wants to read this? Or rather, and more importantly, because I don’t care who reads it and I’m doing it anyway.

I’ve never journaled before. Never. Never had a written notebook of my thoughts (except for that summer I tried to impersonate Harriet the Spy). Never had an interest in remembering my days. Never had an interest in parsing through my thoughts that way.

To be honest, I think quick, I process easily, and I don’t lament the past.

But I want to push myself into new ways of exploring and connecting.

For context, here are some projects I’m working on:

• I have a new body of work that will be displayed in New York in June. I’m knee-deep in preparations for that, but the snow has been keeping me from shooting a lot. I’m aiming for the first week of March when the snow is meant to be melted to dive in big time. I’ve been sourcing props from my local antique store and I’ve got very in-depth images planned. It’s a series about rebuilding humanity. I kind of love it. (a lot).

• I’m working on a very personal series about grief and death that I’ve talked about a lot in these parts. No news of where it will debut or when. It’s constantly changing. But it’s so, so fun to shoot. Think paint and syrup and clay and dirt and everything wonderful in the world. And decay. Obviously.

• Novel! Novel novel novel! Is that word starting to lose its meaning to you? ME TOO. I wrote my novel for four years, realized how bad it was, threw it away, and became a student of the craft of writing. I’ve read 70 books in the past 1.5 years and started from scratch writing a detailed outline. That’s getting edited RIGHT NOW, ya’ll!!!!

• Art book, whaaaaat! That’s a long time coming. My first fine art coffee table book is coming out later this year. It’ll be a 256 page beauty of my work from the past decade that I can’t tell you any more about, yet. YET!

• Promoting Passion Roadshow! For four years I’ve hosted the Promoting Passion Convention, and I decided this year to do mini Promoting Passion events in more cities so that more people could join in. I’m working hard on it right now, confirming cities/venues/guest speakers. It’s hard work, no kidding. I’ll tell you more about that next month.

• I’ve had to put ceramics on the back burner lately because it is the least developed of my artforms and personal things have taken a front seat in that time slot. Maybe MAYBE more on that later.

In the spirit of this journal, let me tell you how I felt this past weekend:

Anxious beyond reason, because I haven’t been able to work on my new series much between travel, snow, and just plain indecision. I rarely suffer from indecision. WHAT EVEN IS THAT? So I was freaked out and frantically trying to find a solution. My solution: GO SHOOT EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE RIGHT NOW. So I did. And it was terrible. Obviously. So my husband sat with me for 2 hours as we re-hashed the images and figured out a creation plan. Whew.

I also recognized my need to be in complete control. It’s a constant battle over here. First, because my sister was in the hospital having gallbladder surgery, I was desperate to go be with her. But, in all honesty, she didn’t want me hanging around her room while she was trying to sleep. So I had to take a step back. And that reminded me that I tend to be a bulldozer. I think I know what’s best and I trudge forward no matter the cost. So I took a step back and recognized that art often imitates life, and that I need to chill out and let things flow.

And in the coming week…

I’ve got a Sony Alpha Female retreat to attend (YAY and HORRIFYING). I am such a socially anxious person that even typing this made me breath really shallow and feel a shaking in my stomach. I kind of want to throw up. The thought of being in a group of women, no matter how inspiring, where I don’t get to be the unequivocal leader…is NOT my jam.

I am only comfortable in a group if I am the leader of it. It’s something I recognize about myself as a character flaw and as an asset. Right now, it is what it is. But I’m committing and showing up so that I can help the women there as much as possible…and even open myself to being helped, too.

See, I struggle with that immensely. I don’t like to be helped. I like to be in control, as I mentioned. So in any case, that’s the big issue of the week that I’m working through, and I’ll let you know how it goes next week.

What have been the highs and lows of the past week for you? What are you excited about this week?

Do you think this journaling thing is going to work for me? Do you like the voice memo?

Until then, creative warriors,
Brooke

Of all the weird things I’ve asked people to do with me, I think this one takes the cake.

On one of my annual visits to India I went on a motorcycle tour. It came highly recommended and we were told it would be a really fun time. And it was, but not in the way we expected. We visited the Mother Theresa house, Garbage Mountain (where our motorcycle broke down in front of a pile of dead dogs), a cemetery, and finally, a funeral pyre.

We sat witness to a funeral and cremation of a man and saw the family gathered, grieving but also celebrating. It felt wrong to be there, and we soon asked to leave so that the family could have privacy, though the funeral space was open to the public.

On that same trip, I watched a a hearse went down the street, carrying the dead in a glass car so that everyone could look in.

I started to realize that death in India isn’t the same as death in America. That death in so many cultures is less taboo. Sometimes death is a celebration; sometimes it is a cause for weeks long mourning. Sometimes we put a wall between us and it, or sometimes a thick, ornate wooden box. Sometimes, that box is made of glass, and sometimes those in mourning ask others, strangers, to join in with them.

Death is not such an easy thing to grasp once you’ve started traveling and understanding other cultures. This peek into how death is treated in India gave me pause, and started me thinking about death as a subject for serious introspection. Two years later, the idea for this series was born.

Though these images will not be featured in the final series, it was one necessary step in my exploration. These images were inspired by that glass car in India, and serves as a window – or really, an invitation – to get a little closer to death.

The experience of this photo shoot was all of these things: hilarious, freezing, difficult, dangerous (at times), and above all, absolutely wild.

I had an amazing team helping me. And when I say helping, I mean doing a lot, if not most, of the heavy lifting. My friend Dave Junion had the coffin made locally and we used his forest, his fork lift, and his building skills to get it strung up in the tree. Dan McClanahan lent us his height and strength as we tied the coffin to the trees. KD Stapleton took behind the scenes images and drove some of the heavy machinery. And Randy Verhasselt worked the fog machine and helped work out the electrical wiring.

Not least of all, Payton Bottomley, our model, fearlessly got into that coffin. I got in first to test it, and we did put it through some rigorous testing to make sure she would be okay. She didn’t flinch at the idea, and remained excited before, during, and after the shoot.

Step 1: Put the coffin on a fork lift.
Step 2: Drive the fork lift into the forest.
Step 3: Tie rope onto two trees after the distance has been measured.
Step 4: Raise the coffin to the height of the rope and attach.
Step 5: Pray. (Just kidding, mostly).
Step 6: Set up the heater underneath the coffin to warm it and set up the the fog machine.
Step 7: Test shots.
Step 8: Get model in place.
Step 9: Shoot from every conceivable angle…because we are not doing this again.
Step 10: Hot chocolate and high fives.

And so the shoot went. It took 3 hours from start to finish. It was a beautiful day, absolutely frigid, and we laughed so much we cried.

Do you want to know the secret to getting people to do weird stuff with you? Acknowledge that their contribution is worthwhile and appreciated. Be weird…as weird as you genuinely are. People love to hang out with weirdos. Create. Being part of a true artistic creation process is priceless, and a lot of people will recognize that. Give your energy and passion, and you will attract people who are looking to ignite their own energy and passion.

That’s my secret. I am wildly passionate and energetic about life, and I never fail to find friends who want to help me bring my visions to life. Though these images aren’t going in the series, they will remain a testament to what can be accomplished when your passionate vision gets loosed on the world.

This image was meant to be exactly what it is, but it wasn’t meant to be what I tried to force it to be. I set out to create a new photo series all about death. I had personal reasons for doing that, but that story is for another day, maybe months from now or maybe years (or maybe never). I wanted to break down the barrier between the living and the dead. I wanted to confront what scares us most about death and in doing so, become better acquainted with my own mortality.

Alongside an idea is always a technique, or in other words, the physical manifestation of that idea. How was I going to portray death? What would the series look like? How would it come across?

At the time that I began the series, I was in a transitory period as an artist. What I didn’t realize was that it was just the beginning of a two-year struggle to find my new voice and vision. Back then, I thought I knew exactly what I needed to do to take my art to the next level.

High budget productions, ornate sets, and models.

So I started building a new series on paper, writing about it and casting models. I rented a few abandoned locations and decided to give myself a one year timeline to finish this new body of work.

As I went on, it became clear to me that something wasn’t right. I liked the images, spent thousands of dollars making them, and on some level, was proud of myself for creating in ways that were a bit foreign to me.

But on the other side..the IN-side, I knew it wasn’t right. It can be very difficult to admit, after so much money has been invested, that something isn’t working. But that is the conclusion I eventually drew after 1.5 years of working on this series.

The problem wasn’t with the series, but with the way I was creating it. I realized I stubbornly tried on different ways of creating, hoping in the process to find my new style and vision. The truth of the situation was that I was relying on visuals and techniques that I thought would make my art better, not that I actually wanted to utilize.

It also turns out that I needed that whole year and a half to reconnect with myself. I had a very scary, very honest talk, alone in my garage, about what this series should actually look like. And when I reassessed, I learned that I needed to go back to basics. That the simple, inexpensive techniques that have always served me well would serve me well again. That I didn’t have to change everything about my creation process to do something groundbreaking.

But, that’s for another time. For now, I want to share the story of this image with you.

I contacted my friend Kyna to do a photo shoot. She was 6 months pregnant at the time. It felt like harmony as I pursued a series about death and she was about to bring life into the world. I crafted an image around her, deciding to play up the themes of life and death.

In a really scary moment, I decided to ask her a question that I hoped wouldn’t offend. I asked her if we might create art using her father’s ashes. He passed away a few years ago and I thought, with new life and old, that we could create something really meaningful.

Here’s the thing about being a totally out-there, weird artist: you attract like-minded people. She didn’t flinch at the idea, but instead welcomed it openly.

I booked a location, drove 3+ hours away to find it, and then took a 1 hour truck ride on the most treacherous road to get to the house. It was off-roading to the extreme. But finally, we got within a mile and hiked the rest of the way.

I spent the day before gathering ashes. I went around to some local campsites and asked if I could clean out the fire pits, which the park managers happily agreed to let me do (that way they didn’t have to do it!) and I took those ashes with me to our location. They were HEAVY, which was unexpected, but we somehow managed to hike with them up to the house.

I scattered the whole room that I chose to shoot in with ashes, and then set up tall black candles around the space. In addition I set up a light outside the window to create streaks of light, and kicked up dust to create a hazy effect in the room. I also bought an old bassinet for the background.

When it was time to shoot I asked our helpers to leave so that we could have privacy. It was time for her father’s ashes. It was years working to heal through his passing, and this was one more step in that process. She had the box next to her, and I asked her to take some ashes and wipe them across her eyes. She did, and it worked, but we needed more. Eventually holding the pose and getting the fabric to stay up was too much to keep together, so she asked me to spread the ashes.

I felt such an interesting feeling of connection and disconnection in that moment. Connected, because I was permitted such a sacred rite. Disconnected, because I could feel the bone pieces in the ashes as I wiped them across her eyes and I recognized what I was doing in its component parts; that something can carry memories, and therefore be alive in one way, but be entirely inanimate, too.

We finished the photo shoot and packed up as best we could. Hiking down the mountain, I remember feeling such awe for her and the amount of vulnerability to do a photo shoot such as this one.

She thanked me for creating something so personal to her, but for me, it was universal.

We all touch death. We all touch life. In that, we are all connected. She gave me a gift that day that I will never forget, and it was the gift of facing death (and life) in a way that most people don’t get to. To hold the remnants of a person in my hand and to be entrusted to create art out of it. To be told, through willing participation, that my vision is worthy of creation.

That is the gift that this image gives me. And to my dear friend, whose baby girl is nearly a year old now, I thank profusely for participating in and helping to create this story.

Though this image won’t live it’s life as part of the series I intended for it, I’m learning that sometimes the things we create have a way of settling into exactly the place they were meant to be.

—

Photographed in January 2018 on a Sony A7RII + 24mm lens.

I don’t have a new video for you, BUT – we are a month in to White Wall Wednesday which means you have a bunch of videos to look back on. And if you haven’t joined in yet, use the hashtag #WhiteWallWednesday so that I can find your creations!

That brings me to why I’m not releasing a video today, and I’m glad for the opportunity to talk about it. We have a chronic problem of idolizing people who seem successful and swiping bad emotions under the rug. Let’s stop that nonsense.

A few things piled up this past week, physically and emotionally.

“The best way out is always through.”
― Robert Frost

I threw my back out over the weekend and I’m trying to stay horizontal as much as possible to recover. I’m doing much better (thank you for the love!) and getting out each day, but want to take it easy. That means I couldn’t swing doing a photo shoot and a video by myself.

I am also prepping for my annual convention, Promoting Passion. It’s in ONE WEEK! I’ve put this event together almost entirely alone, from finding speakers, sponsors, assistants and models to booking a venue, figuring out A/V, transportation, budgets, hotel accommodations for 165 people, and more. It has been a WHIRLWIND. One day, I’d really like to share my experience doing this. First, because it is a learning experience like none other. And second, because I’m really proud of pulling it together and would love for you to have those same skills, if you don’t already.

Third, I had some pretty life-changing emotional stuff to deal with this week. I can’t/won’t go into detail, but suffice it to say I’m a little emotionally drained right now and didn’t feel like I had enough to give you in a video. (Plus, I have to save it up for Promoting Passion!)

My life for the past month has been like a television show…I’m just not sure if it’s a drama or a comedy. My dining room table, which was covered in a full body cast of my own body, is now strewn with paperwork and goodie bags and all sorts of convention items. My computer is a mass of spreadsheets, my emails are never-ending. But you know what I’m most proud of right now in my life?

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile,
but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”
― Thich Nhat Hanh

The joy that I’m finding in the in-between moments, even when I feel overwhelmed or when I have anxiety attacks, even when I don’t think I can handle one more responsibility. The joy is always there. The silver lining. That is my greatest super power.

Please don’t mistake my listing of tasks as unhappiness. I am wildly happy – in myself, in my life – but sometimes we get reminders to slow down. This week has been a reminder in the biggest way possible. Life gave me a massive shift in perspective, and I’m listening.

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns,
or rejoice because thorns have roses.”
― Alphonse Karr

I’m currently on my sofa reading a great book, letting my emails pile up (just a little bit), contemplating some avocado toast. I don’t get my kicks from working myself to death; I revel in the moments of quiet that I afford. This White Wall Wednesday is a day of rest and inspiration for me.

After all, I have a convention to run next week. And I’ll be darned if I’m going to let an injured back and a touch of anxiety get in the way of me running the most passionate event on the planet.

Let’s do this, world.

With inspiration,
Brooke

P.S. Can I just give thanks for a few things:

…a soft bed and a comfy sofa, Netflix, good books, ripe avocados, cats, a husband who literally will not let me move myself, and the best community of individuals I could ever hope for to cheer me on through difficult times.

I’ll see many of you at Promoting Passion next week. And those I won’t, I’m keeping you in a warm embrace until we meet!

These words are ringing in my head today.

When I was younger, my story went like this:

My sister was very good at art. Taking nude charcoal drawing classes when she was barely a teenager, creating pottery, and painting. I watched her excel at this, and silently, I decided I was not good at art. I let myself be “good” at other things – writing, for example, which I had never known to be an art form. These things don’t always occur to young people. I took a photography class, and I was the worst at it. I tried hard, and it didn’t help.

And so the narrative grew and grew until, without ever realizing it, I had decided I would never paint or sculpt or draw. I decided I could not. I was beyond help or skill or talent. Learning was not for me.

I regained my confidence as an artist when I pursued film-making. And then again when I became a photographer. But, in some way, those mediums were distinctly different from the raw talent of handmade art.

Up until two weeks ago, I would have continued to tell you that I can’t draw, that I can’t sculpt, that I can’t paint.

In fact, not a month ago I sat with my sister playing with Play Doh. Fast as lightning she made a fish, and then a dinosaur, and so on, until she demonstrated how quickly and easily her brain works in 3D, how she can collect the likeness of reality into clay.

I sat staring at my whale flattened to the table, entirely 2D, and not realistic in the slightest, and that feeling came back to me from childhood. And I joked that I was bad at this, and we all laughed as we do, and I moved on.

But a few weeks ago I saw a class pop up in my email from my local art center.

Ceramics for Beginners.

I clicked it, left it up in my browser for days, debating.

And then I enrolled. Without hesitation or further thought.

And I went to my first class. It was terrifying.

Take control back of your narrative.
&
Cultivate a positive story for your life.

In the comments (either here or on YouTube), let me know…

What is the narrative that you need to change?

How, I asked myself, is it relevant to share what my days are like as an artist when everyone is different? The answer came simply: If I share how I structure my time, it might help someone else to shape their routine as well.

Comment below how you would categorize yourself:

A – Creativity is your hobby
B – Creativity is your dream career
C – Creativity is your career

Meaning, do you practice creativity for fun? Would you like to turn your passion into a career? Or, do you already make a living from something creative?

I started out with photography as my hobby. A few months later, I really wished it could be my career. And then a year after that, it was!

I’ve been working as a full-time artist (meaning that I make my living from my photography and related items) for the past 8 years. I make my living via the following avenues: print sales, image licensing sales, lecturing/teaching, and commissioned images.

Favorite quotes from the video:

“It takes being creative about how you are disciplined
and being disciplined about your creativity.”

“It takes a lot of good days to make a great career.”

Since so many of us in this community are interested in how to maximize our creative time (at the least), or to make our creative time into our full time work, I thought it would be great to share what my day is like as an artist.

For me? 50% admin, 50% creativity. Look at the to-do list I managed to complete on the day I filmed this video:

BROOKE'S TO DO LIST

Film a day in the life video
Update my CV
Write TLS email
Release blog/video/newsletter
Update licensed images list
Write pitch for grant
Yoga
Novel outline
Reading
Photo shoot
Clear emails
Build registration system
Build prop

The only thing I didn’t finish was that last item. And, I finished by 4pm and had the whole evening for cooking and personal time.

What’s that? You hate admin work? You thought creatives only created?

Oh. Ohhhh. Let’s chat.

I believe that the most successful creative people you see, at least for the most part, have a really awesome mind for business. Take my BFF Lindsay Adler. If ever you have wanted to meet an insanely creative person who is equally, if not more, savvy in business – you’ve found your girl. Take note. (No, seriously, take notes.)

I’m not that great at it. Not Lindsay Adler great. But, I don’t strive to be. I am extremely motivated in business as well as creativity. I strive for a solid, happy medium between the two.

I get equally excited about a career move or endeavor as I do a photo shoot. And that is, in part, what I attribute any success I’ve had to.

Be it my 24 hour email policy, the contracts I’ve hand-written, the outreach I’ve done for opportunities, or my willingness to fail – I always put myself out there and give my business 100%.

Again, I’m still not the best at it. But I have managed to build a business for 8 solid years that has supported my lifestyle. I’m really proud of that.

Come with me behind the scenes in this video. It’s an in-depth look at my life with the curtain pulled back. What it’s like to go from hour to hour in the life of a working artist.

And please, tell me your top tips for maintaining creativity in your everyday life. I am always looking to improve!

And remember to share:

A – Creativity is your hobby
B – Creativity is your dream career
C – Creativity is your career

Freedom. What a huge topic. Working with refugees this year opened my eyes to so much. I began to question if I actually understood what freedom means. If I have never fought for it, know nothing else but it, am of a color that in my country means no discrimination, have never had to flee because of someone challenging my rights…do I understand freedom?

I’m not ready to answer that question. I may never be.

Instead, I’m inspired to get to know what freedom means to other people.
I’m inspired to celebrate the freedom I do have. This video has such a sense of freedom to it.

Because when we can create freely, we can express ourselves freely.

My video this week brings the idea of freedom to life. On any given day I can wake up, get in my car (that I can afford), drive to a beautiful location (that I am allowed to create openly in), take pictures of myself dressed however I see fit (because I live in a country where, as a woman, I can make those decisions without fear), and share online without worry of what people think.

What a LIFE.
Seriously, what a life.

I take this for granted. I want to take the freedoms I am given with a full heart and a serving of gusto. I want to take them by the horns and blast full steam ahead, because if I gave these same freedoms to some of the people I have met in my travels, they would do so, so much.

Which do you prefer?
Monochrome or Color?

I had a meeting with The Light Space teacher in Greece this week. The Light Space is a photography school for underprivileged groups that I started alongside Laura Price of Blossomy. We began in India and now have chapters in Thailand and Greece. Our Thai chapter serves anti-trafficking organizations in the area, teaching photography so that they may create better images for press and fundraising. Our Greek chapter serves refugees.

During my meeting with Olga in Greece, she told me about how one of the students got approval to move to Sweden. Many of the refugees in Greece are there for a safe haven but are looking to relocate somewhere permanently. It is a joyous thing when they are able to move on.

Olga told me our student moving to Sweden wanted to take a camera with her to continue her photography journey, but we couldn’t let her take one of the school cameras. I’m sending her one of my older cameras to her new home in Sweden so that she can continue her artistic life there.

When I agreed to be sponsored by Sony, it was only after a big condition – that they provide cameras to my schools in various countries as I continue to run The Light Space program. They agreed happily, and so raised my respect for a big company that didn’t have to agree to anything of the sort.

Another big factor has come into play. Because a perk of sponsorship is getting new equipment so that I have the latest to shoot with, that means I can give my older cameras to graduating students of The Light Space to further support their dreams of becoming photographers. The camera I’m sending to Sweden will be my third personal camera donation to a graduating student of TLS.

Which brings me to this: If you have a camera you want to donate to a graduating student of TLS, please let me know in the comments or email me. Because the students often move away from the TLS headquarters after graduation, they can lose access to cameras. Giving a camera to a graduate of our program ensures that they can continue to express themselves through a medium they have come to love. Plus your camera is going into a specific person’s hands, and you know it is going to be thoroughly loved.

If you feel in any way moved by the work I’m doing with The Light Space, you can donate here.

Finally, congratulations to Ale Fragoso for winning the free mentoring space this month! Signups for mentoring will take place on August 1st, 2018.

Scroll to the bottom of this post to enter a chance to win a
PORTFOLIO REVIEW and a 45 MINUTE MENTORING SESSION!

I’m writing this from a plane traveling from Philadelphia to Phoenix. I’m on my way home after a week in Pennsylvania visiting family and shooting for my new series.

I rented a house that was built in 1723. Falling apart, filled with character, it is a photographer’s dream. Especially in America, where old (truly old) is hard to come by. I had rented this particular house for a couple of workshops years before so I knew it was golden. I called a few days before arriving, agreed on a price, and got to work.

Then I wrestled with what worthwhile meant. How can I experiment if I expect myself to produce?

Expectation is the death of creativity.

This I know. This I have suffered before. And yet, some part of myself could not be quieted. The first day I created physical art with my hands. I prepared for the second day of shooting where I’d have models I didn’t know and limited time to get the finished products. I took test shots. I assessed the light like a good photographer would. I found the space that looked nicest.

And everything felt wrong. I left after a 12-hour day of experimenting feeling like I had taken two steps back. I wasn’t ready. I knew in my bones I wasn’t ready. It felt wrong.

I’ve felt that gut feeling before. One was when I moved to LA and the moment I did, I knew I didn’t want to make films. I felt it again when I was asked to shoot commercially. I knew I shouldn’t. And of course, there have been countless times that were smaller, more insignificant, like this past week, where I felt I was doing the wrong thing.

Everything about the shoot felt wrong – the location, the images. It wasn’t coming from my heart. It was coming from a sort of desperation to be different, to surprise myself, but for what?

And, more than that – I couldn’t! I had been trying so hard to do something different, but at the end of the day, everything I shot looked like it always does. My vision is so singular. That has allowed me a career that grew quickly and successfully, but that limits me when I try to break from it.

I’m being long-winded to make a relatively simple point, but I’m being long-winded because there are so many details that go into an artist’s decisions. Here is the heart of what I want to tell you.

We are artists. Even if you’re reading this and you don’t think so, don’t count yourself out so quickly. It doesn’t matter if you make things with a camera or your hands, music or baking, spreadsheets or daydreams. What matters is that you have the potential to create, and that is enough.

We are artists. And artists, often, are sensitive about their art. We have a hard-enough time as it is being accepted, being understood. We put pressure on ourselves to create. But, we don’t just put pressure on ourselves to create. We put pressure on ourselves to create something brilliant.

When we don’t deliver, we let ourselves down.

And, if you are of the Interneting or networking folk, you let others down.

And, suddenly, we are not just artists, but we are normal people playing as artists. We are frauds. We let ourselves fall down a hole so deep we may never recover.

I say that you are an artist because when you were a child you created without thought or self-consciousness. You created whatever you wanted without a frame of reference for what is good and what is bad. You created because your hands willed it, because your imagination begged you to do it. And then you learned what good art is and what bad art is. You learned what makes money and what doesn’t, what is practical and what is weird. You learned too much and created too little.

Forgive me if my words don’t apply to you. But chances are, they do.

Expectation is the death of creativity.

So, I return to my story about the abandoned mansion and my failed attempt to create art.

Let me correct myself – my SECOND failed attempt at creating art.

I dreamed up this series over a year ago out of necessity. I won’t talk about that necessity now. That is for another time. But I knew I had to make it. And as I started to plan, the gravity of the series become too much to bear. I started to grow heavy under it’s weight. My back bowed.

I created, and I failed.

I created again, and I failed.

I felt I should be something different. I felt I should break away from what I’ve always done.

I was guiding my art with logic, when very little art was ever created out of such a space.

I started to believe that simplicity is a tool for mediocre artists. I believed that grand locations and luscious props would elevate my work to a greater height. And once I climbed that latter and saw those locations and gathered those props, the view wasn’t any good at all.

Artists, let me speak to you directly. This is what I now know, what I have failed two times through six pictures and $3,400. Your instincts never create bad art. Your techniques may falter, your vision may not be clear, but your instinct will guide you to the most authentic art you can create. Authenticity is not the same as realism. Authenticity is not the same as groundbreaking. Let us not confuse innovation for authenticity.

Authenticity is our most basic selves, boiled down to our essence. It cannot manifest in any one visual, in any one concept. It is, simply, the heart of our creations, the feeling of our art. Trust in it. Please, trust in it.

My journey through this series has been disheartening at times. I got on this airplane thinking about my failure, thinking about what I could have done differently. But, I know, in that most authentic place that my art comes from, that this week couldn’t have gone any other way. Some people may think I squandered my money away just to play in a mansion. This could not be farther from the truth. What really happened was an artist decided to experiment, and those experiments showed her what her heart would not say loud enough:

You must travel the long road to learn about the world. You must learn about every thorn that sticks in your foot, every wild wind that chills your bones. You must suffer for your art, because the best things are not easy.

And when you finally begin to create what feels right in your heart, you will experience the joy of that long road. Your art will shine with the depth of it.

We are all on a long road. Some are just beginning, others have been stretching on forever. Our demons come to us in many forms. For some of us it is family, for others it is health, for some it is addiction, heartbreak, jealousy, fear, loneliness, inadequacy. They fill that long road with pain, and through it, we search for our joy. Our art. What we make when no one is looking, what we created when we were children and we had no concept of good or bad. That is the manifestation of ourselves, and it is that self that will pull us from the road when we are too beaten to move ourselves.

This series I am creating is emotional for me. It is a painful one to create for many reasons – some personal, some creative – and it is because of that pain that I am gaining the most incredible insight into my joy.

Even as I write this I am unsure of my worth as an artist. I am unsure of if I will ever create anything worthy of my expectations. And, as I write this, I know that expectation is an illusion we create for ourselves because the world has taught us to do so.

When we were too young we drew a picture and someone told us it was amazing. Or, someone told us it was terrible. Or, someone ignored it and we felt the sting of rejection. And we learned, through positive or negative remarks, what was good and what was bad. And we kept those judgments in our hearts and we put those judgments on ourselves and we struggled to create even though we knew the expectation of the world was on our shoulders.

Or, we didn’t create at all. Because the judgment is too much, and we cannot bear it.

I feel the weight of expectation on me today. I feel it lessening as I write this, because we are all of the same flock. You are my people, and you understand what this is like. You are an artist, after all.

Onward, to the next iteration of my series, and onward, to the next manifestation of my artist soul. May it change forever and gain the courage to create no matter the judgment that accompanies it.

And you know what? I’m excited.

What do you think about expectation & creativity?
How do you deal with the pressure to be creative?

Starting August 1st, I will be offering 10 mentoring spaces per month. This includes a 1-page written portfolio review and a 45-minute mentoring session for a value of $150. I am giving away the first space for the mentoring program today!

To enter, comment below with:

1) Any creative blocks you’ve been facing lately, and…
2) How you think this mentoring session will help you.

I believe that inspiration is the heart of fulfillment.
That being inspired means living a meaningful life.
That when we are inspired, we can create art with impact.

Some people are naturally inspired. I am one of those people. I thank the stars everyday that I can find inspiration in anything. Over time I have discovered what a gift it is to be inspired, and I want to do everything I can to spread inspiration to others.

I know that it is distributed unevenly, that it is more difficult for some people to find than others.

I have learned to cultivate inspiration when I can’t find it naturally. So, I made a video about some fun ways to do that, and some practical tips, too:

00:00 – Introduction
00:55 – Tip 1: Working with no budget
01:08 – Behind the scenes photo shoot
04:57 – Tip 2: Daydreaming
05:58 – Tip 3: Metaphor Dice
08:46 – Tip 4: Have a mission statement
10:05 – Tip 5: Complete a daily writing prompt
11:47 – Bonus tips
15:15 – Outro
15:50 – Extra metaphor options for this week’s challenge

If you’re interested in the poet Taylor Mali and his Metaphor Dice, click here!

Share your favorite tools for finding inspiration!

Will you try any of these that I mentioned?

Which metaphor will you create from?!