I've been fighting with this for a long time. I don't know why there is such a disconnect in my brain but it makes me extremely uncomfortable to call myself an artist. It could be because I'm not professionally trained in a medium I consider to be "art." Yes, I am a trained vocalist who performed for more than 13 years, yes I went to college to be a writer, that's professional training... But that isn't enough for my brain. I can't draw, I can't sculpt, I can't paint. Can't isn't even the right word in this circumstance, is it? I mean, I have the ability to do these things to some lesser degree, but I don't believe my "talent" is on par with people I would consider to be artists. I've gotten away with calling myself a writer, an arts-and-craftist, a kitchen witch for years. I'm perfectly willing to accept these individual aspects of myself and my abilities, but if I were to give myself the over-arching title of Artist, then the Fraud Police would instantly be notified, and I'd end up with, "Not a REAL artist," stamped across my forehead.
Writer I'm fine with. I've always written. In the past, I have been paid real monies for my written words. Sometimes by strangers, even! But I haven't been paid to write in a few years which is part of the reason why I started this blog. I just wanted to keep in the habit. I suppose if I were to move to a large metropolitan region, I'd have better chances of becoming a paid writer again but I don't see myself moving any time soon. But yes, even though I'm only writing for myself for the foreseeable future, I have no problem calling myself a writer.
Arts-and-craftist... Yeah, this is one I kind of made up to give myself an out concerning the artist title. I make things with my hands. My photography is pretty good (though neglected), I can knit (sort of), I sometimes make scrapbooks and other kinds of paper art. All of these things are things I'd consider to be "low art." None of it "deserves" to be called art. Sure, I would and have given things I've made away as gifts but I'd never charge money for these things. These are all silly little things that I make to express love for my friends and family. A good number of my family and friends have wrapped themselves in a scarf that I've knit lovingly and then apologized for profusely because it isn't up to Bloomingdale's standards. My uncle, upon receiving one of my wide-striped scarves for Christmas last year, proclaimed that it was amazing and I REALLY SHOULD be selling them. I was supremely embarrassed. But why? Because it isn't good enough? For who? The Fraud Police, probably. If I tried to trade one of my scarves for money, they'd show up and tell me only "REAL" knitters get to get paid for their scarves. Fucking Fraud Police...
Kitchen witch is a fun one. I love to cook and bake. I can make some supremely tasty things though they're often not the prettiest. So I'm not an artist, right? I don't have mad fondant skills so it doesn't matter that I won 2nd place at the county fair for my black-bottomed peanut butter pie (Why doesn't this count? Well, it's a small county...), and my former employer paid me to cater all of the desserts for the company's holiday party last year (but she bought a cake at a professional bakery which was just so not fair!) but there isn't such a thing as a baking artist, right? Right? Edible things can't be called art, it's too temporary. Plus, calling myself also has the added bonus of separating myself from my creations. If I'm a witch, it isn't skill, it's magic! See what I did there? That's how to not take credit for anything.
So with all of these various titles that I've given myself and all the ways I have found to duck and dodge the loaded title of "artist," I was met eye to eye by Amanda Palmer and her amazing book which I haven't even finished yet. At this point in time, it doesn't matter what I am and am not willing to call myself and the things I make. I have been seen. This book has eyes that have stared inside of me, smiled and said, "I see you, artist. It's okay. You do you." The Fraud Police aren't real. I'm never going to be found out because there's nothing for them to find. And this has been so incredibly difficult to write because every time I say something nice about the things I create, I want to cringe even though I know that's silly. I've been seen. I don't have to prove anything to anyone else. Though convincing myself will always be so much harder than anyone else.
So for now, I'm going to keep all the stupid little titles and ideas I've put into place to keep my system humming along. As long as I am creating something, it doesn't matter what I call it. And in the dark of the night, when I'm alone and no one can see or hear me, I will experiment with the phrase, "I am an artist."
I can't say it aloud today, but maybe someday...
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