Confession: I’m an Artist and I Hate Art Journaling

Have I been cheating myself out of joy?

When I found out I may have cancer, for some reason, I decided that I needed to start art journaling, which sounds like a reasonably normal activity, especially for an artist. Well, it’s anything but normal for me.

I detest, hate, abhor, and downright despise art journaling. Why? I cannot tell you, but just accept that I do.

Okay, I know, I can’t just leave the why unexplored, so here it goes.

I loved to draw and color as a kid. It was my favorite pastime. I was always excited when I received new crayons or a marker and poster set. I will never forget the day I received the magical box of 64 Crayola Crayons with the built-in sharpener. I was excited to have many more colors available. Now, my color will be amazing, I thought to myself.

And when I become bored with coloring, I would draw. Animals, trees (many, many trees), letters, shapes, whatever popped into my head. I loved the act of drawing and didn't judge the outcome. But, the unsupportive and mean people around me always found a way to tell me my art sucked, even though I never asked them for an opinion. It didn’t matter if my drawing sucked or not, the damage was done. I stopped drawing and never looked back, knowing my creations would never be “good enough.”

Over forty years after the first “you suck at art” comment, I had a strong desire to teach myself how to paint. I didn't know where to start, and, in my mind, “real” painting involved representing things, so I headed off in that direction. I tried to draw again, and again, and told myself I was not very good at drawing. The back and forth of believing in myself as an artist and thinking I don’t deserve to breathe oxygen is chronicled in my book, Perpetual Conflict. As much as I wanted to, I could not shake, or even slightly unwedge the “I suck at art” thought that was planted in my head so long ago.

I eventually stopped trying to paint representational art and switched to painting abstracts. There are no “things” in abstract art, and I felt at home in that space. Drawing and art journaling have been the furthest thoughts from my mind.

But, ever since I learned I have cancer, I no longer detest, hate, abhor, or despise art journaling. And, surprisingly, everything I have journaled so far involves, yes, you guessed it, drawing.

What the heck has happened to me?

Who is this person?

When and how did this healing occur?

I feel like a kid again, drawing, coloring, just having creative fun. I am obsessed with learning how to draw a giraffe, my favorite wild animal.

I feel quite “drawn” to drawing now. The desire to practice and improve is very strong, but most importantly, I am reconnecting with the little girl who was bullied into stepping away from an activity that brought her great joy. I have created a safe and loving space for her to thrive.

I want her to have fun without judgment or shame.
I want her always to have the opportunity to create joyfully.
I want her to be free.

And part of thriving is learning to let go of the expectations of others, and, most importantly, the expectations we hold for ourselves. I made a strong attempt to do that when I started painting. I made a pact with myself to post each and every painting I created on Fine Art America, regardless of whether I liked it or not. Five years later, I am still keeping that promise. Even though I still judge myself, I have removed the “what will others think” from the equation, which is a huge step forward.

I now make that same pledge about my drawing.

In my previous post, Cancer Thoughts: Phase One, my first two drawings made their debut. There was one more I drew that day, the giraffe below, that did not make the post. I told myself he was omitted because it did not work in the story. But, the truth, I must admit, is that I was ashamed of him. Three steps forward, one step back. It’s a process.

Meet Geoffrey One. I felt tentative, hurried, and worried about the outcome. After not seeing him for a few days, the feelings of embarrassment and shame were reduced. I found childlike playfulness in him. And his head resembles that of a dinosaur, which is quite cute.

Meet Geoffrey Two. Although I felt less hurried and tentative, initially, I was more attached to the outcome and started to worry that he would not be “good enough.” I told myself to find the joy and was able to escape those limiting thoughts. When I was finished, I stared at G2 and fell in love with him. I love what I created and don’t care if anyone agrees. He is so cute!

I am excited to see what I draw next! The joy I feel when I draw feels so damned good. It saddens me that I withheld myself from this happiness for so many years, but that was the way it was meant to be. The healing journey is never a linear one.

Thanks for following along!