Without ever putting it into words specifically, I started out this Substack project thinking that I’d always write in “real time” and, initially, that’s what I did, too. What happened next then is that my small and generally quiet artist’s life got suddenly quite intense. I did write A LOT throughout the past few weeks but somehow it all felt too raw and I just wasn’t in the mood for sharing. I needed to retreat into my safe space and mull it all over for a bit, all while keeping going with the more regular part of my life, its chores and daily going ons. There was A LOT of that as well and, suffice it to say, I was kept well busy and distracted. Then, rather unexpectedly after all, my beloved cat passed away and I was/am heartbroken… Another week passed in a blur of feeling all the feelings and throwing myself into every task I could get my hands on, to keep myself anchored in the “one day at a time” mode of pushing through everything. Such a rollercoaster of totally mixed and often clashing emotions! June really got me good, from very happy to totally devastated, it’s all been there and I allowed it. I let each sentiment get to me, then I let it go. It left me feeling empty and numb at times but I took that on board, too. Part and parcel of a life lived fully…
That’s where my seemingly innate resilience is a trait I am most grateful for. After all, looking at my family history, it appears to be in our genetic makeup to plough on, survive, get over and get through whatever life throws at us. My family is quite good at finding ways forward, no matter what. So in this spirit, feeling at last somewhat restored to balance, I was reading over parts of my writing from the past month and realised that I do want to share, even if it’s only in retrospect. Serendipitously, that’s when I also happened to re-read a quote by Søren Kierkegaard, an old-time favourite of mine:
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
Which brings me back to what I now feel like sharing even when, at the time of writing it, I didn’t want to at all. I may have moved on from the vigour since putting these thoughts onto paper, but the underlying sentiments are as valid as ever. In this way, it seems only right to share what forms part of who I am as a human being and artist, since my practice was and continues to be informed by everything I experience.
Without further ado, let’s travel back in time a little bit, shall we? If you’re still reading at this stage, you may be invested, as I always hope you are. Here goes:
Artists are, by default, always at risk. If anything, we’re usually undervalued, under-appreciated or taken for granted. Some people root for us but actively contribute to our commercial failures all the same. Sometimes I dream of quitting. Not just me but all of us, collectively letting down a world that so desperately needs us, yet refuses to acknowledge it.
Maybe one day the courage it takes to be an artist of any description will be matched by society’s willingness to take a chance on us. Not only after we’re either dead, well connected, or well established, but in the beginning, when it’s hard and takes guts. Maybe one day people will be daring to support us, putting their money where their mouths are. Maybe one day, they will be making the conscious effort to actively support us in any possible way.
For my part, I’m over a lot of this just now. I’m done trying to second guess what anyone might want. I’m doing it for myself. That’s not likely to earn me any money. It’s also going to alienate a lot of people (sounds familiar?), because I’m yet again saying what nobody wants to hear. But hey, I’m getting used to that and maybe, who knows, that’s one of my superpowers, too? I’m past caring for a lot of stuff that never should have mattered in the first place. I feel like throwing a lit match over my shoulders and let everything burn in my wake without ever turning around once.
So here we are, I’m shaking things up for myself once again. I’m daring to change my mind! I’m leaving something behind that I once (not too long ago) worked hard towards achieving. I’m no longer loyal to a decision I made at a time when it did, in fact, suit me. Well, it doesn’t anymore and I’m done pretending everything is fine. No more people pleasing for the sake of… of what, actually!?
At this stage, I’m almost led to believe that it doesn’t matter anyway. What I do, say, write, make… who cares? Enough to support my efforts? I hear only silence. Maybe I’m not listening carefully enough. Maybe people need to shout their support a little louder. Maybe I care no longer either way. Except that I do. Still too much for my own good which is exactly why I thought I was quiet quitting. Of course, if you know me a little, then you know I’m not that quiet really. So I guess I’m loud quitting then. Time for a little self indulgence, I’ve earned myself that much, at least.
I’m happily and noisily leaving the room. Stomping out in my red boots, definitely made for walking. To make space for whoever feels like stepping up and filling the void, I do not even want to know. Personally, I am delighted to make space in my own life for things that matter more and make sense to me right here, right now, not a few years ago. I live for what’s to come not for what once was, not all that long ago. This is no fairytale though, and I’m no princess either. There is no knight in shining armour, no fairy godmother has come forward to claim me either, and I may just be the heroine of my own life, telling my own story, as it is. In that capacity, as protagonist and storyteller, I can choose to add as much magic as my mangled brain can muster right now. It’s up to me how the story ends.
I certainly have no regrets and I’m indeed not looking back over my shoulder. How does walking away make me feel? Am I grateful? Yes, for my freedom and my integrity still intact. Also, to a degree, to some people I met. Overall, it’s me I need to thank though, for keeping up the good work, for putting in all the impossible hours, for my perseverance and endurance. I don’t owe anyone a thing. Nobody did it for me. I made myself do it and now I am making myself stop. And I am changing both pace and direction once more. Plot twist anyone?
Because I can, because I want to. Because there always is a choice, regardless of what the world would have you believe. Because I do not have any more of myself to give away in good faith and with high hopes. I dare to leave everyone and everything behind, to bite the hand that fed me for a little while, without nourishing me at all.
With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.
That’s what Margaret Mitchell let Rhett Butler say to Scarlett O’Hara and, you know, it’s not wrong. It’s not the easy way forward but at the very least it feels genuine. I guess I’m the kind of person who grows stronger in the face of adversity.
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
Jane Austen knew what she was writing about!
This is by no means the end of this tale, however it is one chapter coming to a close as the next one is being written. Exciting, nerve-racking and intense. No point in being part of a dull story, I don’t think. It may seem unhinged to some but so be it. I do not ask for or expect approval. Where do you see yourself in X years? That’s a question I got asked recently, while still entangled in my previous state of being. It made me almost laugh at the time but, of course, I had to take it seriously and come up with an acceptable, sensible answer. I didn’t lie but, even in my own ears, what I did part with then sounded hollow, half formed. I held back what I really wanted to say, namely that the question makes no sense to me in its essence.
Since I could first think of such things, I only ever wanted to see myself as a decent person, happy with my life choices, at peace with myself, able to go about with my head held high. I always knew how I wanted to feel. What I do for a living at any given moment is merely a means to an end, no matter how much I may enjoy doing it. It doesn’t define me entirely and completely. That’s not to say I don’t have ambitions or goals, on the contrary. I just choose to do every job I happen to do along the way well, no matter how big or small. Call it intentional living, call it soul aligned if you must. Whatever buzz word you want to throw at it, the facts remain quite plain: I want to live with integrity.
The way you can put it is this: nobody has to love, like or even understand me, but I have to be able to live with myself. Which I can’t unless I am free to be who I am, as opposed to a watered down, sugarcoated version of myself, palatable or more relatable to some perhaps, but not truly myself. Just like I am claiming my artistic freedom to develop and evolve in my practice over time, I am also reserving the right to simply be myself, whether that suits anyone else or not. In an age of algorithms and personal branding, I choose to remain unapologetically real.