2020 was difficult for most, to say the least. Devastating and infuriating throughout, with extremely high highs and- more frequently- extremely low lows. I struggled with making my art my income, which led to some introspective thoughts about what it means to be an artist- in the face of COVID, in the face of fully online interactions, in the face of life in general.
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Imposter syndrome is something that several artists go through at least one point in their life. It’s the phenomenon that one feels as if they’ve only achieved what they’ve achieved because of luck rather than their actual talent, resulting in the victim believing they are an imposter in their field. It’s the nervousness you feel whenever you post a piece of art, whenever your face falls when you see you didn’t get as many likes as you wanted, it’s not being able to see your merit as it is clouded with self-doubt. One thing is for sure- it royally sucks.Â
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One aspect that perpetuated my imposter syndrome, especially this past year, was when I was getting steadily paid for my creations. I felt as if I didn’t deserve it, and my clients were lying when they said they liked the pieces I made for them. You don’t have to tell me- I know it’s all in my head. I know it’s irrational. But that’s how an artist’s mind churns- sometimes, it even helps with creating.Â
I am not here to wallow and throw a pity party for my fellow artists who feel as if they don’t belong in their field of work. 2020 may have been the year my imposter syndrome was provoked the most, but it was also the year I discovered how to better cope with these feelings through some casual introspection every day. Being alone with my thoughts put me face to face with these irrational and nasty ideas that constantly floated around in my mind, helping me decipher what was driven purely by my emotions and what was driven by logic. Through legitimate practices such as meditation and mindfulness, and somewhat illegitimate practices such as driving back and forth from my hometown for 3 hours each by myself, I could easily find my critical voice and disregard it. Art is supposed to be fun. Doing art as a career is supposed to be the best-case scenario; why am I going to let my anxieties overshadow the positives?