I sometimes hear people refer to their art as their baby, or as a piece of themselves. I don't really think of it that way. Frankly, I don't think that is a very healthy or productive way to think of one's art.
I remember taking a studio class in college and struggling with a project. I just didn't like where it was going; I didn't feel proud of it. I don't remember now what the particular project was, but I remember walking away from the art building and making a conscious effort to leave those feelings behind. I recall telling myself that I am not my art. I am not my work. My sense of well being should not be tied to how well I think a project is going. So I left the object I was working on behind and moved onto my next class.
I've heard some artists say they don't want to post their art online -- either for sale or on social media -- because they are afraid someone will steal it. It happens pretty often and it does suck, but still . . . it's just one design. It hasn't happened to me, but I imagine if it did I would be bummed, and then move on. That's not reason enough to hide your art away. If you steal my art, I will just make more. It's not sacred and it's not my baby.
I've been thinking about this lately, this idea that my art is not my baby, that I don't have to take it all so seriously. Then I read the same idea in Gibert's Big Magic,
"Guys, please don't mistake your creative work for a human child, ok? This kind of thinking will only lead you to deep psychic pain . . . Your creative work is not your baby; if anything, you are its baby. Everything I have ever written has brought me into being. Every project has matured me in a different way."
If my art is a baby, it's more like a baby sea turtle rather than a human baby. I birth it, and then send it on its way. I hope it does well, but in the mean time I'm going to let it go and continue to make more.
A place to share the process. A space to be honest about the triumphs and trials of my daily life as an artist and mama. Writing motivates and refreshes me.