A Letter From An Artist (Literally)

After reflecting on the things I've worked to accomplish this summer and thinking about what else I plan to accomplish, I've realized that most of the growth you'll do when starting something is overcoming the fear of doing it. Yesterday I took my little brother, Rylan, to the pool. I watched him swim, do flips and handstands, and jump into the water and enjoy it all. A month and a half ago, Rylan couldn't swim. He couldn't float on top of the water or do anything more than kick and try to do it. He was a little scared of the water then, so he wouldn't put his whole head under. He would hold his nose and dunk his face in then pop up gasping for air like he'd been without for minutes. Yesterday, I had trouble keeping up with him because he swims underwater more than on top. At the pool I take him to, there's a large slide that towers over the pool and intimidates kids like Rylan. I walked to the edge and called him over. I told Rylan that if he would go down the slide, I would buy him an ice cream when we left. He was immediately intrigued because he wanted to go down the slide, but he was afraid to do so. I convinced him that going down the slide was going to be just the same as learning to swim or go under water. Although he was scared naturally, once he went down it, he wouldn't be scared anymore. I said, "Rylan, what's the worst that can happen?" He couldn't respond with any answer other than "I'm just scared." So, Rylan went down the slide and came up giggling and squealing like a little kid who had just gone down the big slide, because that's what he was.

The day before yesterday, I finished a part of a painting that I had been battling since May. I had let the painting sit and stare at me until I was presented with an opportunity for a competition next week. I decided to jump on it and finish the thing and enter it, even though I was afraid of not being able to do it. The challenge of the painting is something I'll go over in another post more specifically. So, the day before yesterday, I got the painting almost finished. The part that was driving me crazy is now something that I can't stop staring at and giggling about. I've shown all of my family members and explained excitedly what I did and how hard it was and how proud I am, like an artist who just finished a painting that she thought she couldn't do, because that's what I am.

What are you right now? Are you the little kid scared to walk up the ladder to the slide or are you the kid eating ice cream boasting about the splash you made at the bottom of it?

For any of you who are staring up afraid to climb, here's a letter from one artist to the other. Artist, Sol Ewitt, wrote this to artist Eva Hesse. I've found that the letter is beyond relatable to anyone in the creative industry, but it can light a fire in anyone.

Dear Eva,

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.

I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive – especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.

My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.

Sol