Issue #3
“You cannot chase fear out. You can only bring love in.”
- Elizabeth Gilbert
I’ve always loved making things with my hands but the process hasn’t always loved me back. Let’s take scrapbooking, for example. Twenty years ago, when we first started having kids, I’d sit down with a handful of photos and a ton of pressure on myself to make the perfect scrapbook page. Each new page had to be a masterpiece and I had no patience with myself for mistakes. The fear of making mistakes (cue flashing red sign that says “failure”) left me frozen. After an hour or two, I’d throw my page in the garbage and leave my desk in disgust. You might be thinking, “All of this over a scrapbook page?”. My problem with scrapbooking reflected the way I lived the rest of my life.
The goal of avoiding mistakes made a lot of sense for the majority of my life. I’m not saying it worked, I’m just saying it made sense. Life wasn’t predictable or safe, so why take chances? Put enough make-up on and your mom is happier with you. Get your words just right and that person won’t get mad at you. Read enough parenting books and you’ll make perfect Christian children, the book said so! I’ve also kept most of my artistic dreams nestled in my head, protected. And dormant. Not failing has been the endgame. And the endgame has often led me to live life pretty small. Pretty safe.
Somewhere along the way, year by year, things began to change in my art life. These days my art process looks very different than it used to. I don’t know where a drawing is going when my pen touches the paper. Since my art involves layers upon layers, I can take detours (sometimes also called mistakes). There is usually more than one tense moment when it seems like the work has taken a terrible turn and all is lost. And then I layer some more gesso to adjust the color or a line, I add a deeper hue, rubbing it in with my fingers, and I keep going like this until I end up with something I’m satisfied with. (Sometimes.) Art, on the good days, is a discovery process. If I’m not willing to take the chance, to take wrong turns, to stay curious and see what happens, I’ll end up with an empty sketchbook.
My art process is seeping back over into my daily life. It’s not that the fear has gone away, it’s just that in allowing room for mistakes, fear meets grace, and with grace, there is freedom to move forward.
What if each day of our lives is not a masterpiece in the making in which we will always fall short? What if each day is just another layer of a larger painting and it won’t be finished until the very end? In between the layers there is room for mistakes, for experiments, for adventures. There is room for grace.
What will I do in 2023 if I allow room for mistakes, both in my sketchbook and outside of it? I’m curious to find out.
From the Sketchbook Archives
Favorite Finds
Online Art Classes
Carla Sonheim is the artist and teacher who has brought grace and exploration into my creative life. You can find her classes here.
Books
Carla has a new book out called Chasing Rabbits: Life, Creativity and the Pursuit of Happiness. It has a second subtitle worth mentioning: How to Make a Creative Life and Career Despite Being Unfocused and Harried-Grateful but Oftentimes Unable to Cope with Things Like Breakfast or Answering Emails. Or Phone Calls. Or Anything. She has several other books as well including Drawing Lab.
Around the same time I encountered Carla Sonheim, I came across the picture books of Peter H. Reynolds. In my experience of sharing his books, adults often need to read them more than kids. If you just can’t wait, go ahead and watch a video of his book, Ish.
If creativity isn’t your jam, but you want to read more about grace, I’d recommend the work of Brennan Manning, starting with The Ragamuffin Gospel.
The Finale
Elizabeth Gilbert knows how to talk to fear. Check out this illustrated video of her letter to fear, from her book on creativity, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear.
Blessings from the Guest Nest,
Aimee