Those self-defeating voices

Some blog posts just seem to write themselves, but this one is already on its third iteration this morning, and I suspect it's because I don't really want to talk about what it's supposed to be about.

What I knew, when I rose from my meditation period, was that I needed to talk about vulnerability. But when I sat down to write, I went to all kinds of other places -- a classic avoidance mechanism. The problem is just that one thought leads to another, and it's easy to step away from the difficult stuff into story-telling.

But here's what I need to be saying: being an artist is all about being vulnerable. You have to be open enough to allow new possibilities to emerge. You have to be brave enough to try them. And then you have to have the courage of your convictions to show the results.

I don't have too much trouble with the first and second bits of that triad. It's the third that I struggle with, and it's mostly because of the curse of perfectionism.

So I had this wonderful idea: I've been asked to participate in an exhibit on lawn chairs. So I thought I'd turn a photo of a lawn chair into a lawn chair. But the vision I had involved a certain amount of investment, so I acquired a mannequin and an old lawn chair from ebay and purchased a deck chair. I photographed the mannequin on the lawn chair (photoshopping in my neighbor's feet, as the mannequin's feet were damaged) and printed the results as an outdoor waterproof banner, which came back from the printer yesterday.

I then stitched up all the edges of the banner and mounted it on this chair. And I'm pleased with the results. Kind of. The chair isn't exactly what I'd hoped for, though, and now I'm wondering how on earth I can justify charging enough for it to make back my investment. Plus I had originally thought I would create two more prints of the image and weave them into the old lawn chair, but it's so beat up I can't imagine -- even if I can get that to work out right -- that my gallery will be willing to show it; they're very into new and modern, and that would definitely be old and funky...

Can you hear all those self-critical voices?

And, no, I'm not asking you to say, "OMG this is so adorable; you are so creative!" What I'm asking is for ME to say that to MYSELF. And somehow the words are sticking in my throat. And what's up with THAT? There's some serious approach-avoidance sh*t going on here, and I suspect it's the same disabling stuff that keeps me from sending off my novels and books to publishers... It's really fun coming up with and implementing the ideas, but somehow I can't seem to convince myself that anyone would actually want to BUY them.

Oh, well. The good news is that I'm starting school a month from today. And the first two classes I have to take are Coaching and Practitioner Development: which means I'll be spending the next three months exploring psychology and the roots of questions just like these. Perhaps the time has come for a bit of transformation...