What If We Are All Artists?
Hear me out. No need to roll your eyes —
I’m not proposing some whimsical notion that we should all quit our jobs and spend our days painting, making pottery, and writing (though, let’s be honest, that fantasy doesn’t sound too bad). What I am suggesting is that we approach our work with the same intentionality and dedication that amazing artists bring to theirs.
Some Context
For years, I’ve been searching for deeper meaning in my work. In many ways, I found it. I made decisions that felt right, but struggled to articulate why they were the right ones. This led to frustration, as I found myself transitioning from one industry to another, from one new project to the next, without being able to make sense of it or explain it to others. I’ve always been tinkering, building something new, and expecting some greater purpose to emerge, as though the universe would hand me a neatly packaged message.
But what if I’ve been missing the point? What if the tinkering, the transitioning, is the point? What if it’s impossible to know the greater purpose because you’re in the middle of the story and you can’t see the ending yet? And why would you want to?!
Over the past year, I’ve been feasting on creativity. I’ve taken pottery classes, started painting (watercolors and acrylics), became a member of my local art museum (where I sit in front of my favorite paintings and write for an hour), and started writing again—which brings us here. I’ve read The Artist’s Way, Big Magic, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, and a few other books. I’ve also consumed countless blogs, articles, TV shows, and podcasts (Painting with John on Max is a standout, and I highly recommend the Art Juice podcast for artists and non-artists alike).
In my mind, I’ve been weaving all of this together with my work history, companies I’ve worked with, projects, and strategies I’ve built over the years. I’ve had some lovely ‘aha’ moments, which have led me to one big conclusion: Y’all, We Should All Be Artists.
What I Mean
I’m not claiming this is a new idea. But my research on creativity over the past year has led me to three key insights about how artists approach their work in ways that give it purpose and meaning.
[And this is the key difference. We often search for work that gives us meaning and purpose, or try to craft our purpose so we know where to find meaningful work. But I actually now think that is the wrong approach.]
Here’s how artists create meaning and purpose in their work:
Artists approach their work as a ritual.
The practice of being an artist is grounded in ritual — a set of processes and behaviors that reliably lead to creation. The mindset is: If I follow these steps, I will produce a painting. The real meaning comes from engaging in this process, not the finished piece. The joy lies in doing the work, rather than judging whether the result is good or bad. The focus is on fulfilling the steps, not evaluating the outcome.
Artists use their body of work to explore ideas through pieces, collections, and periods.
Every project is an exploration of a subject, concept, or question. Each new piece offers a chance to experiment and discover something new—about the materials, the process, or themselves. Gathered together, these individual projects form a series or collection, which can explore a theme or span a specific timeframe (like a month, quarter, or year). Over time, these collections create periods that capture the larger meaning of an artist's work across multiple years or phases (I always think of Picasso’s ‘Blue Period’, but it could also be like working at a company or generally within a 3-5 year span). Artists know their work evolves, and they embrace the shifts in themes and ideas as their work transforms over time.
Artists show up.
Real artists don’t wait for inspiration to strike. The job is to show up every day and do the work.
How to Approach Your Work Like An Artist
What if we approached our work — whatever it may be — in the same way an experienced artist produces a piece of work? Here’s a quick summary of what I’ve gathered.
Begin where you are. You don’t start painting and immediately land in a gallery. You work up to it. Focus on what your next step is and figure out how to do that thing.
Break it down. Start with small studies or mock-ups — your low-fidelity prototypes. Some of my favorite projects started from a sketch of square boxes on a scrap piece of paper used to quickly illustrate a layout or concept.
Mise en place. Gather the resources and tools you may need for each step that you're about to undertake. Your job in making this piece of work is to learn how to make this piece of work.
Develop a process. Know that (as if following a particular recipe) you must undertake things in a sequence of steps (i.e. choosing your paint colors, preparing your brushes and palette, then marking on the canvas). The meaning of the work emerges in the process: refining the process, evolving the process, etc. To do that, you first have to create the process — know the steps, even if you're creating the process as you go.
Multiple processes. You’ll likely need different processes for different things or different periods of time. Processes for daily rituals, for starting new projects, and for finalizing pieces. Consider the daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly cycles that nurture your work.
Consider your audience. Think like a writer writing for a particular person, or a painter who knows their work appeals to people who share some similar values. I once heard an abstract painter (I think it was one of the Art Juice ladies, actually) explain her admiration for a particular kind of landscape in a particular region for the light creates a gloomy-golden cast. Appropriately, her work often appeals to nature enthusiasts who travel through that same region, despite the fact that her work is clearly abstract expressionist (i.e. you can’t necessarily tell it’s a landscape). Likewise, dedicate your work — this day, project, or goal — to someone.
But really, do it for yourself. Ultimately, the work that you do is for you. Even if your work is ‘boring’, or you’ve done the thing a million times before, do the work for yourself. What can you explore in this instance of the work? What can you make 1% better? Or can you experiment with your process to make it go a bit faster? Or can you inject a new concept or ingredient into your process to see how it alters the outcome? What can you notice about yourself and your internal world in the process of doing the work?
Make a record. Keep a ledger, a journal, or a spreadsheet. Take a few minutes (really, like 5 minutes) to memo before, during and after the project to record what you did, how you did it, how it felt. This will help you document your process. But more importantly, this simple act of being mindful even amidst the mundane can make for beautiful moments and memories, and inspire new ideas. Plus it creates an accurate record of all of your accomplishments.
Make time to do more than just produce. Non-stop execution leads to burnout. I've heard that for every 3-4 hours of solid creative production, you probably need one hour of rest or inspiration (literal quiet time to just exist). In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron recommends a minimum of a one hour artist date once per week to "fill the well". Likewise, especially when you're doing something inherently new or creatively difficult, consider making time to refill your well. Visit museums, take a walk, play of some kind. Seriously, make time to rest.
Show Up. Even when you’re not motivated, create a routine that gets you moving in small, productive ways. Make this part of your ritual and do that everyday.
Create your studio. Your environment is sacred. Whether it's a notebook, a desk, a room (mine is a literal closet), make a sacred space for your work. This is your artist’s studio.
Build a supportive community. Find your tribe. Your network is imperative.
Questions for Reflection
What is the ‘single painting’ equivalent in your work?
How can you gather your projects into collections or series?
What are the various periods of your career? What do you want to explore next?
What processes can you refine, and what new ideas can you explore in your next round of work?
What do you notice about yourself and your internal world in the process of doing your work?
Ultimately, the biggest takeaway is this: Purpose is not something to be found, but something to be created. It’s built through daily, weekly, and yearly rituals that we commit to refining and evolving. This requires self-reflection, a sense of organization (gathering our work into collections), and a commitment to showing up. Everyday.
Onward.