The Artist’s Way Week 3: Recovering a Sense of Power

The first thing I notice on the opening page of Week 3 is a sidebar informing me that I may have to deal with ‘unaccustomed bursts of energy and sharp peaks of anger, joy and grief.’ Putting aside the offence taken at the suggestion that I might be less than energetic, I kind of get where Julia is coming from. Later in the week I will realise that she has been spot on: one day –Tuesday, I think – I am fizzing with motivation and a sense that great things are possible; two days later, like my old friend Sisyphus, I am back at the bottom of the hill with a huge, ugly rock in my way. I am simultaneously satisfied and frustrated that she has got it right. The sidebar also states that I am ‘coming into [my] power as the illusory hold of [my] previously accepted limits is shaken.’ I’m not so taken with that pronouncement and try to ignore the phrase that follows (something about ‘spiritual open-mindedness’). I’m on surer footing with the main body of text, which starts with a section on Anger.

I am an angry person. I get angry with myself and with so many things I cannot change. I try to shut it down and keep it under wraps and sometimes that works. Right here and right now, however, that is another Sisyphean task: I look out of the window and witness people failing at social distancing; I see neighbours going out several times each day; I’m furious with the government, but...I think I’ve made my point. Julia tells me to listen to my anger, but if she heard it she’d run a mile. She persists: ‘anger is meant to be respected...because...it shows us where we want to go.’ I don’t agree and furthermore, as far as I am concerned, anger is not a sign of health. For me, less anger would mean more space for the good stuff in my head. It is not the fuel that will propel me to a new life and it is not action’s invitation. If anything, for me, anger is a quagmire, an endless, stinking bog.

After what I’m calling the disillusion with Anger, I am feeling less, not more, open-minded about what comes next: Synchronicity. I don’t pay a great deal of attention to this section because I have flicked ahead a few pages and know what’s coming up, but let me précis: God figures highly in this bit, in an answering-our-prayers kind of way; Julia does not hold with luck or coincidence, and on that we agree. There’s a kind of merit in her theory that putting yourself out there and being open to opportunity will result in you spotting more openings, but really she could have just said be alert and open to opportunity. I firmly believe that these things, like so much about life, are arbitrary and the best you can do is be ready to catch any apple that falls from any tree. I suppose you could work the odds and position yourself near to a tree filled with ripe apples, whereupon some delicious fruit may serendipitously fall into your hands. What do I take from this? Do the work and be ready to get in front of people when chance permits.

We move on to Shame, which I don’t need telling ‘is a controlling device’. But it’s good to hear I’m not alone. I read about how art undresses society, pointing out things we don’t want to know or be reminded of. I see that, but shame feels more personal to me. Artists who have endured childhood shaming – hasn’t everyone? – are subject to the fear of shame as artists. I feel like I’m on the couch, but it’s plausible. We need to recognise that in feeling shame we are warding off vulnerability – tick – and then move beyond it. I think of Grayson Perry, whose work is honest, beautiful and thought provoking – all things I would love to be – and does not appear to countenance shame. He puts his thoughts and his work out there and is not ashamed to do so. It occurs to me that my two newest stories, which are more personal than I am in the habit of writing, confirm Julia’s contention that ‘by telling our shame secrets around...and through...our art, we release ourselves and others from darkness.’ Grayson is in a position to ignore the critics – those who might not welcome the release from darkness – but I bet he was always like that. I’m getting better at receiving criticism and recognising the good from the bad, but even so I welcome the nine bullet points which provide guidelines for dealing with feedback, in particular the final point: ‘Do it. Creativity is the only cure for criticism.’ If only.

But I am growing and changing. Perhaps being locked down is changing us all. Today I feel well disposed towards The Artist’s Way, which confirms that I am growing. How very Californian! Still, I’m willing to accept that ‘a creative recovery is a healing process’ (go with it Rob) and that this healing and growth will come in spurts: ‘You are capable of great things on Tuesday, but on Wednesday you may slide backward.’ Furthermore, I ‘will lie dormant sometimes’. I have run marathons, but I did not know, according to Julia, that ‘marathon runners suggest you log ten slow miles for every fast one’. That would have been useful knowledge, literally and metaphorically.

POST-SCRIPT: I’ve not missed a day of morning pages yet, and once again I took my artist to the theatre. I have been failing to be kinder to myself and have been experimenting with solitude (must try harder). I wrote three haiku, a micro story and have begun to plan and write my second novel. Italian lessons are going well: give me a shout if you have an apple, want an apple or intend to eat an apple.

Click here to read about Week 4.