An unexpected conversation, a little self-discovery, and the terrifying idea of creating without an audience.
I’ve been sick all week. Achy, snotty, sneezy, coughing…pooping myself. Yep. It’s been THAT kind of sickness.
So, here I am, planted on the couch, feeling like absolute garbage, when my sister Gwynnie and I start texting about something that has absolutely nothing to do with being sick.
Who are we when we stop worrying about what everyone else thinks?
Gwynnie and I are very similar in the way we’ve allowed other people’s opinions to influence our lives. And I don’t mean just the big decisions. I’m talking about the little things, too.
What clothes we wear. What music we listen to. What movies we watch. What hobbies we pursue. Even how we journal.
Yes. JOURNAL.
Think about that for a second.
Something as personal as writing in a journal, a place where you’re supposed to be able to pour out your deepest thoughts, feelings, fears, and dreams, and we’re over here writing as though someone might stumble upon it someday.
Instead of writing for our souls, we’re writing for an imaginary audience.
Somewhere along the way, we started letting other people’s opinions become louder than our own inner voices. And now, here we are, two grown women trying to figure out what actually makes us tick.
What do WE like? What do WE want? What makes US happy?
Not what makes us look interesting. Not what might impress someone. Not what other people think we should enjoy.
Just us.
Creating Without an Audience
During our conversation, Gwynnie asked what I do that’s just for me.
My immediate response was digital painting.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized…is it really?
Because even when I’m digitally painting, there’s usually a little voice in the back of my head thinking about showing someone the finished piece.
Unless it turns out like crap.
Then nobody needs to know it ever existed.
And THAT got me thinking.
As an artist who wants to sell her work, I’ve gotten so accustomed to creating with an audience in mind. Will someone like this? Will someone buy this? Is this something people would want hanging on their walls? And honestly….that would sometimes paralyze me from doing the work.
But what if I removed all of that?
What if I created something with absolutely no intention of selling it?
What if I sat down with a blank canvas, a sketchbook, or my iPad and just…created?
No reference photo. No plan. No expectations.
Just whatever happens to come out of my brain.
And you know what?
That scares the absolute crap out of me.
What If It’s Not Good?
Here’s something I’m a little embarrassed to admit.
I’m afraid to create from my imagination.
There. I said it.
I’ve spent so much time working from references, trying to improve my realism, trying to make things look right, that the thought of creating something entirely from my own mind feels terrifying.
What if it looks terrible?
What if nobody likes it?
What if I start exploring abstract art, collage, patterns, or something completely different, and people think my realism was better?
What if nobody wants to buy it?
And then I catch myself.
WAIT A MINUTE.
Who the hell am I trying to impress?
My six website followers?
Two of whom are ME.
So…my four followers?
HAHAHA!
Seriously, though. Why am I so worried about what other people might think when I’m still trying to figure out what I think?
I started thinking about artists, musicians, writers, and other creatives who have found success by doing something that feels uniquely theirs.
They experimented. They followed their curiosity. They listened to that little voice inside that said, What if we tried this?
Maybe that meant throwing paint at a canvas. Maybe it meant making a bunch of dots, drawing crooked lines, layering colors, or creating something that made absolutely no sense to anyone else.
But it made sense to them.
And maybe that’s the point.
Nobody Cares. And Maybe That’s a Good Thing.
Recently, we had a guest speaker at work who said something that stuck with me.
People don’t care.
Not necessarily in a mean or negative way. But people are generally too busy thinking about their own lives to spend much time worrying about yours.
And he’s right.
I’m not sitting around wondering whether our local baker is creating masterpieces every single day.
I’m not wondering whether some musician I follow practiced today or whether their newest song is better than their last.
I’m busy living my own life.
So why do I assume everyone else is sitting around judging mine?
Why do I put so much pressure on myself to produce something worthy of being seen?
Maybe the freedom I’ve been looking for is realizing that nobody is paying nearly as much attention as I think they are.
And that’s actually pretty wonderful.
Maybe 2027 Is the Year I Get to Know Myself
So now I’m thinking…
Maybe my New Year’s resolution for 2027 should be to explore.
Not necessarily to become a better artist. Not to sell more paintings. Not to gain followers.
But to get to know myself.
To reconnect with that inner child who created things simply because creating was FUN.
What colors am I feeling today? Blues? Greens? Bright pinks?
Do I want to paint? Draw? Collage? Use stencils? Make patterns?
Maybe I want to scribble all over a page.
Maybe I want to glue random pieces of paper together.
Maybe I want to paint something that looks absolutely nothing like anything I’ve ever painted before.
Maybe I want to create something ugly.
And maybe that’s okay.
Because what if the purpose of creating isn’t always to make something beautiful? What if sometimes the purpose is simply to create?
Gwynnie and I talked about art journaling, too. Creating pages filled with colors, words, textures, and whatever else comes to mind.
Not for Instagram.
Not for Facebook.
Not for a potential buyer.
Just for us.
And I LOVE that idea.
But then my brain starts doing what it does best.
Overthinking.
What If I Just…Stopped Showing Everything?
Here’s a wild thought.
What if I spent an entire year creating without showing anyone?
AHHHHHHH!
Nope. That scares me.
Because what if I make something really good?!
I’m going to WANT to show someone!
Okay, okay. Maybe we don’t need to be that extreme.
What if I only shared my creative explorations on my website?
I mean, I DID just pay another $250 for a year of WordPress, so I might as well use the damn thing.
Maybe I step away from constantly posting my art on social media and instead make my website a little creative sanctuary.
A place where I can share what I’m experimenting with, what I’m learning, and what I’ve been making.
If someone wants to follow along, they can subscribe to my website and receive emails whenever I share something new.
That actually sounds kind of nice.
A little less pressure. A little more freedom.
But wait…
Here comes the anxiety again.
If I’m not posting on social media, how will anyone find me?
How will I grow an audience?
How will I sell my work?
And there it is.
The very thing I’m trying to get away from.
The constant need to turn everything I create into something for someone else.
Maybe I just need to trust the process.
Maybe I give my website another year and see what happens. If it grows, wonderful. If it doesn’t, maybe I reevaluate whether it’s worth keeping.
I don’t know.
I’m literally just thinking out loud here.
And maybe that’s okay, too.
Sometimes the Best Ideas Come at the Worst Times
So, since I’m currently stuck on the couch, surrounded by tissues and feeling like a walking germ factory, I’ve been watching YouTube videos of artists creating these amazing, messy, colorful art journal pages.
And now?
I have SO MANY IDEAS.
I want to paint. I want to collage. I want to experiment with textures and patterns. I want to fill sketchbooks with weird little creations that may or may not ever see the light of day.
I want to PLAY.
Of course, my body has other plans.
Because why is it that we always get the most motivation when we’re physically incapable of doing anything with it?!
Seriously.
But maybe being forced to sit still has given me something I didn’t realize I needed.
Time to think.
Time to question why I create the way I do.
And time to consider whether I’ve been holding myself back because I’m so afraid of creating something that other people won’t like.
Maybe It’s Not What We Create, but How We Create It
The more I think about this conversation with Gwynnie, the more I realize that maybe I’ve been approaching art from the wrong direction.
Maybe it’s not about WHAT I paint.
Maybe it’s about HOW I paint.
Am I creating because something excites me? Because I’m curious? Because I have an idea that I just can’t get out of my head?
Or am I creating because I think someone else might like it?
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to sell my artwork. I still want that. I still dream of having collectors who connect with my paintings.
But I don’t want the possibility of a sale to dictate every creative decision I make.
I don’t want to be afraid to experiment because something might not turn out perfectly.
And I certainly don’t want to spend my entire creative life wondering whether I’m good enough in someone else’s eyes.
Maybe 2027 will be the year I give myself permission to be a beginner again.
To make mistakes.
To create ugly things.
To create beautiful things.
To make things that don’t make sense.
To explore what I like without needing anyone else to approve of it.
And maybe, somewhere in all that experimenting, I’ll discover a side of myself that I’ve been too afraid to let out.
Maybe the most authentic art I’ll ever create will happen when I stop trying to create something worth showing and start creating something worth experiencing.
I don’t know exactly what this next chapter will look like.
But for the first time in a while, I’m excited about the possibilities.
Now, if this stupid sickness would just go away so I could actually DO something about it.
Thank you, Gwynnie, for planting that little seed in my head.
I think it might grow into something pretty wonderful.
And to anyone reading this (all four of you), I have a question:
When was the last time you did something purely for yourself, without worrying about what anyone else would think?
Maybe it’s time we all started listening to our own voices a little more.
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