« Vital Steps | Main | Quiet Persistence »
February 20, 2005
From Whence It Comes
Sharing your talent, be it writing, art, crafts, photography, acting, dance or music can really be tough. Especially if you're afraid of what other people might say or think. In fact, being afraid of criticism can actually halt a brilliant career in its tracks. It will even deny you the pleasure of creative euphoria, one of the most joyful pleasures known to man. (Heightened by sharing your expression with others.)
I remember doing a painting once that I really liked. My friend, an artist, told me he didn’t like the colors in the picture, so I changed the colors. My running partner told me he didn’t think the foreground was detailed enough. So I changed the foreground. Someone else said I should add some depth to the picture. So I did. Another person said my signature was too small. So I made it bigger. The granny next door said the signature was too big, so I made it small again. Then I threw the picture away because I hated it. (I was particulary sensitive to criticism because I was denied access to art school on the grounds that I was not talented enough.)
I realize that no matter what I do, people will always criticize my work (whether they say so or not.). Forming judgments or pointing out faults is something most people do. Everyone gets criticized. It’s a part of life. At first I took criticism really hard. I threw away many paintings because someone’s feedback made me feel like my work was not good enough.
Two little twists of fate changed everything:
1: A number of years ago I did a series of pictures for a small art show at a gallery here in Austin. At the opening, I overheard two people talking about my art. I stood behind them as they talked and I listened intently as they took apart my work. They did not know I was the artist and even asked my opinion.
“What do you think?” said one of them.
“Brilliant,” I muttered, to four raised eyebrows.
One of them was a young man who looked like a walking advertisement for struggling artists. He wore black ragged jeans, a black paint-spattered t-shirt, black-framed glasses and a black beret. Yes, a black beret. (And he took very deep breaths and sighed heavily between every sentence.) “I would have done this and I would have done that,” he said, knowingly pointing at my art.
Although the show got good reviews, all I could think about was the criticism from the artist in the black beret.
A number of months later I was invited to give a talk to a friend’s art class. Lo and behold, who should be a student in the class? You guessed it. The man with the beret. Of course he told me how much he enjoyed my show. I looked over his shoulder at the painting on his easel. I could not believe it. This guy was great. Even brilliant. Brilliant at pretending to be an artist. His canvass was blank except for a few pencil lines that resembled a stick figure. (My friend told me that the man with the black beret had been is his class for three months and could not bring himself to draw for fear of criticism.)
2: I was sitting in the reception area at a large publishing company waiting for my editor. I was sipping some tea when suddenly the world of rejection changed for me. (First let me mention that I have been the recipient of over 300 rejections for books I have proposed over the last 25 years.) Each rejection felt like a punch in the stomach until that moment. It all changed because of what I noticed happening right in front of my very eyes.
The receptionist was opening the mail at her desk. I could see she was opening manila envelopes containing manuscripts. I watched her read a few lines and toss the manuscript into a large ‘slush’ pile. Every now and then she would put one in a small pile on her desk. Manuscript after manuscript landed on the slush pile. (Hours, months, years of people's lives simply discarded. I swear she did not look at each one for more than twenty seconds before it got tossed.)
That changed everything. I realized there and then that the judge of my work was not a highly experienced, qualified editor or reader, but a receptionist. I could not believe my eyes. This was the person deciding the fate of years of work. This was the person who could make or break somebody’s career.
I have never been bothered by a rejection since that day because the experience made me realize that creativity is subjective and NOBODY knows whether work is good or bad. It’s just their opinion. Granted their opinion can lead to your work being accepted or rejected, but it does not mean the work is not good if they don’t particularly feel for it.
Take criticism from whence it comes. If you LOVE what you do, and it gives you great pleasure, that’s all that counts. As long as it looks and feels good to you, then it’s brilliant.
Criticism does not hurt me the way it used to. Sometimes when a reviewer really doesn’t get what I’m doing, I’ll feel a tug, but then I remind myself that many reviewers review because they can’t actually do.
Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
Please don’t let your fear of rejection, or criticism, make you give up your creative goals and dreams. (It has for so many exceptional people.)
Posted by trevor at February 20, 2005 08:42 PM