Life in the shadows
I live in a city that nurtures a great creative industry. This means that I meet (and, sigh, date) lots of out-of-work artists, musicians, and writers. Some of them live with their parents so that they can pursue their dream without paying rent. Others work “day jobs” as receptionists, delivery drivers, and store clerks so that they can free up time and attention for their artistic pursuits. All of them, to one degree or another, are juggling their tolerance for professional and artistic compromise.
Julia Cameron (author of the much-beloved book, The Artist’s Way) doesn’t have much use for artists who only go halfway or live in the shadows of other artists. She calls them, in a slightly derogatory tone, Shadow Artists.
Too intimidated to become artists themselves, very often too low in self-worth to even recognize that they have an artistic dream, these people become shadow artists instead. Artists themselves but ignorant of their true identity, shadow artists are to be found shadowing declared artists… Shadow artists often choose shadow careers — those close to the desired art, even parallel to it, but not the art itself.
By her definition, as an art therapist, I could be considered a Shadow Artist. I’m not out there producing, exhibiting, and actively selling my own work. I suppose I could, if I really dedicated myself to improving my skills and did art at the expense of all else. Instead, I am facilitating artistic expression and creativity in myself and others. I am “using” art for other means. I’m in an artistic profession, but am not an “artist.” I have not thrown myself, headlong, into the artist’s life with all of its uncertainties. I hate to be this way, but I like my paycheck.
In some ways, I think Julia has it right about the process of embracing yourself as an artist. Behold:
As a rule of thumb, shadow artists judge themselves harshly, beating themselves for years over the fact that they have not acted on their dreams. This cruelty only reinforces their status as shadow artists. Remember, it takes nurturing to make an artist. Shadow artists did not receive sufficient nurturing. They blame themselves for not acting fearlessly anyhow…
For all shadow artists, life may be a discontented experience, filled with a sense of missed purpose and unfulfilled promise. They want to write. They want to paint. They want to act, make music, dance… but they are afraid to take themselves seriously.
In order to move from the realm of shadows into the light of creativity, shadow artists must learn to take themselves seriously.
Whenever I reach this point in the book, I wonder if Julia Cameron would prefer that all creative people attempt to become full-time artists. I am not trying to be overly critical of her or the book (which contains some good stuff), but the world does need doctors and lawyers and farmers.
One of my favorite poets, William Carlos Williams, was a highly successful pediatrician and medical doctor. You may know him from his famous poem, “The Red Wheelbarrow.”
so much depends
upona red wheel
barrowglazed with rain
waterbeside the white
chickens.
I love to think about Dr. WCW squeezing in his poetry and writing at odd hours and in random breaks during the day — between patients or after procedures. I relate to him, as a creative person who was also interested in compassionate care. I think it does a lot to explain his simple, straight-forward style and the way he uses images to convey meaning.
I think there are many of us who are caught in a trap of feeling that we should be doing something productive with our creations — making money, gaining notoriety, or whatever — but are unsure or are, as Julia Cameron suggestions, intimidated or short on self-worth. As though the only way to measure worth were in dollars. As though productivity were the apex of all goals. As though an external validation were necessary for satisfaction. Those things are nice, yes, and I certainly would never begrudge anyone who made a living from their art! But, I also don’t want people to think that it is the only way to find value in their pursuits.
The recession drags on and we are all beginning to feel the pinch. Even if we still have jobs, we may have noticed that the cost of our art supplies has increased. We may stand at the work table and mentally tabulate the amount of time and money that we’ve invested in our pursuits over the years. We may begin to wonder about return on that investment and what it means to make your passion into your work. Several bloggers have been thinking and wrestling with these ideas in the past few weeks. Some have successful shops, others are pondering shops, and still others are closing shops. The reasons and emotions are as varied as the personalities, but it’s interesting to consider their struggles.
- Mr. Monkey Suit
- Jude over at Spirit Cloth
- Sara over at The Fabric of Meditation
- Amy over at A Commonplace Life
Personally, I’d like to stand up in defense of the Shadow Artist. Yes, there are those who are able to make their art or their craft into a full-time profession. But then there are those for whom the joy of the process, the magic of making, and the other “fringe benefits” are enough. Must we all quit our day jobs in pursuit of art greatness? Maybe you sell off some of your creations from time to time, you take a commission or two, or you submit to juried exhibitions while continuing to pursue other interests and responsibilities. Maybe the creative process thrills or calms or challenges you and that’s enough for now.
Perhaps the world would be better with more capital-A Artists. For my part, I think the world would be better with more artist-grocers, poet-ranchers, and musician-cops. I like the bus driver that composes new tunes to whistle along the route. I wish I could find more waitresses who sketch out their customers on napkins just because. Accountants who write poetry on their ledger sheets. Barbers creating sci-fi stories as they cut.
Time to chime in. Do you feel you should be doing “more” with your art, or is your current balance of work/pleasure rewarding enough? If you were to move in one direction or another (toward work, toward passion) which would it be? Do you feel one impacts the other? What are your thoughts?
No related posts.
Well, this is a most provocative post. So glad that I came over to your blog to read your caring and intelligent writing.
Personally, I am wrestling about whether to give up something that I’m good at and that people want to buy (painting) and go with something that I love to do (sit and stitch). When I see ancient and folk textiles covered in hand stitch in museums I am overwhelmed by their power – this emotion is what makes me want to go with the hand stitch and leave the painting to others who are more passionate about it. The fact that I am a music teacher – well as well – I don’t even consider. I just do that like I make dinner for the family. My heart is in my hand stitch.
Comment by judy martin — 28 April 2009 @ 8:35 pm
Never read the book so can’t say much about the content. There is just one feeling I got while I was reading you post. Labelling, why is labelling so important.
I’m good in organizing, speak a few languages and can type = secretary or something like that
My education was in economics= working at a bank, etc.
For several years I studied the human body in all kind of massageclasses = masseuse,
For years I took danceclasses = dancer
The last year and a half I do taekwondo-training = ……
Throughout my life I embroided, knitted, crocheted, sketched, wrote = artist
Can cook and bake from scratch and make my own recipies = cook
Have two kids and stay at home = stay at home mom
Am I a secretary, accountant, masseuse, dancer, fighter, artist, a cook or a stay at home mom?
No, when I introduce myself I say:
Nice to meet you. I am Elizabeth
Comment by Elizabeth — 29 April 2009 @ 12:23 am
From the quote you’ve given in Julia Cameron’s book, it looks to me as if Ms. Cameron is a purist. There’s nothing wrong with *being* a purist in your own life, so long as you don’t put other people down when they don’t (or can’t) abide by your precepts.
I particularly keyed in on her sentence, “Remember, it takes nurturing to make an artist.” It also takes instruction, whether one on one or in a class (which takes $), time–to develop one’s skills to the professional/mastery level (living expenses during those years), and supplies (which take $). Many “artists” (vs. “shadow artists”) also feel that, unless one has a dedicated studio (more $), whatever one creates cannot be art, but is craft. And, of course, in the “pure” art world, craft is just…craft.
Yes, it would be wonderful if we could each follow our path of artistry in our dedicated studio and earn a living doing it. In reality, very few people *can* do this relative to the number who would *deserve* to do it based on their level of skill. Was William Carlos Williams a “shadow” doctor or a “shadow” poet? Given Ms. Cameron’s requirements, he wasn’t a full doctor OR a full poet. Hmmm…
And, lest we forget, those composers of yesteryear, like Mozart and Beethoven, died in abject poverty. Music was the only way they had of earning a living. If they didn’t have a patron to cover their living expenses, then that period of their life was very difficult, since even Mozart didn’t earn a decent living, much less a comfortable one, strictly from his composing, performing, and conducting activities. Even when he added tutoring and his wife gave private vocal instruction, Herr und Frau Mozart lived in very straitened circumstances.
And what about writers like Jane Austen and Emily Dickinson, who lived as single women with their families but never earned a living with their writing? In Dickinson’s case, she wasn’t even known to have been a writer until after her death! I suppose this is OK with Ms. Cameron: so long as the artist lives in abject poverty but is pure, that’s OK. Or, in the case of Austen, so long as the artist is denied a full life (dying, ill and single, at the age of 42, never able to lie on the family couch because it was her mother’s “place”), she is a pure writer.
There’s something wrong with this kind of mean-hearted analysis. I leave it to others to determine exactly what.
Comment by Cynthia H. — 29 April 2009 @ 8:49 am
A terrific post, Mal. I have very mixed feelings about a lot of Julia Cameron’s work, and since she’s made a fortune and a living from what she calls “shadow artists” trying to reclaim their art, I think her criticism is suspect. The balance between making a living and making art is a struggle for every single artist, and there is no one solution that fits all. Additionally, I think it’s entirely valid to want to work around creative people.
For me, the best situation was not working in an art museum — which I did, and I always wanted to be the artist and not the curatorial secretary. I guess that’s the “shadow artist” dynamic, but it had more to do with the secretarial job being frustrating. But when I worked with musicians, I had no envy, since I have no musical talent, but loved supporting what they did, and found the camaraderie and mutual creative respect very rewarding.
Cameron’s view is narrow, and suggests that we can’t bring creativity and imagination to multiple tasks. I’m a professional writer, but I’m also a very good editor; I’m a stitcher, but also a very good teacher of how to sew; I’m a painter, but I can also curate a gallery show and work in an nonprofit art organization.
And the artist-encouragement book that I MUCH prefer is Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit. I also like Eric Maisel’s Coaching the Artist Within.
Comment by Lainie — 29 April 2009 @ 5:32 pm
I would like to second your standing up in defense of the Shadow Artist.
I’m pretty new here so I don’t know all about you yet but I assume that as an art therapist you are working with those that can benefit from therapy. As the mother of a child with special needs I am deeply indebted to those professionals who have chosen to utilize their talent to aid others. Grateful to the point of tears really. So, for the families of the people you work with I’d like to say: thank you. I hope that you feel fulfilled and that you don’t look back and regret not living the Artist’s Life. I hope for you to look back and remember how many lives you touched.
Comment by Amy — 29 April 2009 @ 6:46 pm
Mal this is such an interesting post and has had me thinking almost constantly about this subject since I read it the other day. I love what you have to say and what Julia has to say and what your readers have to say and am still processing it all! Thank you
Comment by Sue — 30 April 2009 @ 7:17 am
[...] Originally posted here: Life in the shadows | turning*turning [...]
Pingback by Life in the shadows | turning*turning | MusicalAids.Com — 30 April 2009 @ 8:18 am
Paul Guaguin once worked in a bank, and William Faulkner worked briefly as a mail carrier. James Rosenquist, a Pop Art painter, used to paint billboards. Matisse studied law. Charles Ives, a famed American composer, was an insurance agent his whole life, and many of his colleagues never knew he composed music in his spare time.
I saw a guy working at the laundromat a while back, and he was writing poetry while business was slow. I think the creative impulse makes for more interesting people, regardless of whether or not it’s their full-time career.
Comment by Sarah — 5 May 2009 @ 5:24 pm