Q&A: How do you deal with creative slumps? How do you motivate yourself?

Thoughts on not motivating myself and a reminder that making art is not fun.

Dear reader,

Today’s newsletter answers a reader-submitted question about creative blocks and motivation. In the future, most of these Q&A’s will be for paid subscribers only, but as it is the first one, I’m excited to share it widely.

Q: How do you deal with creative slumps? How do you re-motivate yourself? I am in one right now.

I understand why it is tempting to name a period of less creativity as slump, but I make a conscious effort not to fall into the trappings of labels like this. Similar to my feelings about not letting shame near my studio or creative practice, I don’t call myself blocked or stuck just because I’m not doing something. If I’m not doing something, it likely means I don’t want to be doing that something, and I honor it. Anything made forcibly usually won’t be very good anyway.

If I’m not doing something, it also means I am doing something else. When I am not making art, I am get more sleep, spend extra time talking to friends, read, cook, go on dates, surf, take care of my health, address outstanding paperwork, and simply try to get from day to day without escaping completely through drugs and alcohol.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with choosing these things. I don’t think doing these things means I am blocked. These are the things that balance me, that contribute to the integrity of the person who shows up to the work when the season arrives and it is time to begin again. How do I motivate myself? I don’t. I trust that the things I am truly excited about will motivate me again, someday.

I also remember the difference between creative production and creative expression. I may not be producing something I can see or hear, but that doesn’t mean I’m not engaging in a practice of creative expression. What if just living my life is art enough? How am I dressing? How am I dancing? How am I loving? How am I listening? How am I eating? How am I looking out the window? How am I talking to others? How am I grieving? How am I horny?

Make love to your life; see what happens.

---

The idea of a “slump” implies that everything we do is supposed to be linear, consistent, and on an upward trajectory. It implies that creativity and expressive output is meant to be constant, but not only is that not sustainable nor possible, it also leads to work that isn’t very inspired.

I love certain things people make because I can tell those people have devoted lots of their time to learning, observing, and collecting from the world. My personal theory is that being an artist is being a world-sponge 50% of the time, and the remaining 50% is split between promotion and actually making the work. So that means only 25% of Being an Artist time is spent holding pencil. It sounds low, but I find it is actually enough if I am diligent and focused.

My advice is to consider doing a time audit on your week and to let yourself off the hook a little. Imagine showing up to your practice a mere 1/4th of the time that you actually have for it. Use the other 75% to dance for the universe, get a financial budget in order, practice sharing your work with others, look into residencies, read books, and walk to the tops of mountains.

Lately people have been asking me what I’m doing in Mexico and when I’m going to make drawings again. Questions like this make me happy to know that people are interested in my work, but they also serve as a reminder that many folks are under the impression that to be a successful or relevant artist is to never stop working.

I made 12 large-scale color pencil drawings in August and September of 2021. I would be suspicious of myself if I was doing it all over again no less than a year later. Being prolific is rejuvenating, but wintering is too. My desire to create comes from somewhere, and it certainly doesn’t come from an empty tank.

---

Lastly, I will say the thing that nobody wants to hear but is the fundamental truth of my experience as an artist: making art is not fun. It is like work, except most of the time it’s less fun than other work I’ve had. It is way less fun than being a server in Brooklyn at a sexy pizza restaurant, wearing lipstick and talking to beautiful people, closing up late with coworkers-turned-family and biking all the way down Dekalb with leftovers in my backpack.

I think often what people call a “slump” or “block” is actually another name for the unwillingness to do work that is nothing like the sexy work mentioned above. Making art is hard. It looks like sitting all alone and trusting yourself enough to silence your very loud inner critic. It looks like giving yourself the time and permission to practice something most of us have been conditioned to think is indulgent or should come last, after all of the other to-do’s have been crossed off. It often looks like embracing a big mess — spending time doing something you are only just beginning to figure out; this is extra scary. It requires deep listening, sitting still, and befriending the resistance that will follow you everywhere you go. Everywhere.

You are of course allowed to wear lipstick while making art, but there usually aren’t a lot of beautiful people around unless you’re collaborating, pizza and wine complicates the process, and it’s hard to do it while riding a bike and screaming at the top of your lungs.

Love,

Anna