what is the role of an artist?

Here we are, in the middle of this global pandemic, and I find myself so conflicted with what to share online. Why? Well, it took some digging, and I found a lot of gold down there that I wanted to share. So here are a few handwritten pages out of my journal, straight from my heart and soul to yours. Enjoy. XO, Lusterling.

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what is the role of an artist right now?

Should I have something bold and insightful to say? Should I be creating my most impactful work ever? Should this global pandemic lead me to produce a super-symbolic body of work?

Should I be giving up offerings and giveaways and discounts and going live on Instagram and Facebook to share what I have and know because “everyone is online right now” so “now’s my chance” to be seen and heard?

Should I be expanding my “business” or coming up with “relevant content” in order to keep with the times and maybe reach a broader audience?

So many questions.

I have realized that, in my life, “shoulds” are just indicators of old, left-over patterns of thinking that are no longer a part of the bigger, better life I have been creating.

“Shoulds” are limited beliefs and unaddressed obligations from my past that reach up to grab me and pull me back down when my soul is trying desperately to lift me higher, to expand my earth-presence.

“Shoulds” don’t get me anywhere but stuck.

So, what is the role of the “artist” right now, in the middle of this global crisis?

Well, friends, it’s the same as it ever was.

The role of the artist is to create the thing that is calling you, inspiring you, begging you to please bring it to life in this physical world.

The role of the artist is to translate your human experience, perspective, insights, and messages, into tangible and intangible creations, in ways that only you can, so that first your own individual craving and purpose is satisfied and alchemized, and then offered up to serve and relate to others.

—

It is so interesting to me that so many of the questions that came up, all of the “shoulds,” don’t really revolve around the role of the artist and instead center on what we should be doing in the online world in relation to what others are saying and doing in the online world.

When did the two become crossed?

Because to me, the artist’s role is one of real life, human experience, and raw, honest creativity, being transformed by the highs of inspiration and elation and the lows of processing grief and trauma and heartache and separation in real-time, offline.

And do you know what?

For me, this looks like using all the energy I have to share the most fun possible with my kids because for the first time in my life, I am not obligated to a school schedule, daycare drop offs, work hours, or scrambling to make ends meet.

For me, it looks like deep, inner exploration, opening my crown to nature and listening to all She is trying to teach me in these moments, and being totally swept away by the seemingly-endless time I’ve been able to open the garage door and paint while my kids ride their bikes freely in front of our no-longer-busy apartment building.

For me, it’s getting really centered in who I am now and where the individual current of my life is dying to take me. It’s giving extra attention and loving playfulness to the most meaningful relationships in my life and filling this 2-inch thick journal with as many of the soul-bursting visions and messages I’ve received over the past few weeks in quarantine as my now-sore hand can handle.

This is life as an artist during a global pandemic, from my perspective.

It’s not knowing when I’ll have “work” or “income” again, and, frankly, not caring, because for this brief glimpse in history, I feel as though I’m living a dream.

It’s staying up until the small hours to finish a tie-dye project and bake chocolate chips using slowly browned butter from scratch with my brother and not feeling sorry for waking up at 10 am and having greasy 10-day old hair (which is better for my course curls anyway).

For me, it’s knowing that if there’s something I need to say, do, create, write, paint, finish, work on, share, post, or offer - online, offline, or both - that it will come to me in the moment, and I don’t have to feel obligated to do any of it at all.

It’s living my best life and enjoying each moment as it comes knowing that I may never see as freeing of days in my lifetime again, so I’m going to unapologetically make the absolute most of this crisis.

Because this is my human experience, and this is how I am choosing to live it, as an artist.

—

So, what is your role as an artist right now?

I don’t know - you are the artist.

Make your own rules.

—

How To Let Your Heart Guide Your Art

Sometimes it’s challenging to decide what to do when your passion and your income start to intertwine.

I’ve noticed that I often go back and forth between two very different sides of me - an artsy side and a business side. Through a bit of experimentation, I have learned that one is *heart* and one is *brain.* Both are good; one is not better than the other. But I’m realizing that when I make heart decisions surrounding my art, music, and how I spend my time with both, I am WAY HAPPIER than when I make a brain decision… Brain decisions usually revolve around making money and having it all together and “shoulds,” whereas heart decisions usually follow inspiration and intuition. I am learning how to use both as needed… which is tricky. 

Here's an example - at the beginning of 2019, I was super pumped and set out to turn “my passion” into my full-time career. I wanted to share the parts of my journey as I went, thus “caitlininprogress” was born. I quickly hit a wall when I painted some things that I WILL NEVER SELL because I love them so much with all of my heart. And they took months to create! At first, I got really discouraged because, well, I had made a brain-decision to sell everything so that I could make money that way. I thought that was how I was going to financially turn my passion into my full-time income. But my heart could never let those paintings go, so now they are hanging on the walls of my home. That's when I realized that I can't always make brain decisions about my art. I can't always treat it like a business. 

I’m also learning that in the same ways I can’t do that to my art… I can’t do that to my music either. Or my writing. Or anything else I create.

Because I create with my heart, not with my mind. 

Creating art and music and writing is when I turn my mind OFF and just allow things to happen. It’s probably the only time in my life when I turn my mind off, which is why it’s so good and therapeutic for me. I just stop thinking and let it out.

It took me a few months to work through this heart/brain issue, but I want to tell you where I have settled and drawn a line between the two... 

I want to tell you because I can’t remember a time in my life when anyone asked me if I *wanted* to sell my art. I don’t think anyone asked me if I *wanted* to share my music. I’m finding that, when anyone finds out you do anything creative, the next response is YOU SHOULD SELL IT! YOU SHOULD SHARE IT! MAKE AN INSTAGRAM! 

And yes, here we are. I share my art online, sell it, and I do occasionally share my music here as well too. But it used to be the most secretive thing about me. It used to be something that only the closest people in my life knew about. It used to be hidden and tucked away. In those times when it was just me, myself, and my creative process, I was 100% IN THE FREAKING FLOW. Uninterrupted by what people thought about what I created, uninterrupted by opinions and shoulds and rules. 

It was when I started sharing it with people that all the rules and shoulds and opinions came in, at a time when I wasn’t fully aware enough myself to make intuitive decisions about it.

Thus is life, right? It comes at us faster than we can process, so we do the best we can with what we know at the time and somewhere along the journey, we start making decisions for ourselves and not based on what people think of us. That’s the goal, isn’t it?

But even through all of those years, becoming more of myself and less of people’s expectations of me, I’ve still read my fair share of business tips, “how to run a creative business” stuff, and taken others’ advice on what will help me “make it” in the art and music worlds.

This is why my brain gets in the way sometimes. Because even if I’m good at making art I love or not caring what people think about what I’m creating, my brain still likes to think it “knows everything” and “makes the best decisions.”

A way I’m learning to overcome that icky feeling of being stuck between my heart and my mind is to let my heart guide my art decisions. This has taken a lot of learning, practice, and trust, so I wanted to share with you what has been working for me in hopes that it can relieve you from some of the pressure you might also feel. I want to be the person who asks you to consider what you truly want to do with your time and your inspiration, not tell you what you “should” be doing. Someone needs to ask that question - what do you want to do?

So I wrote this for anyone who is

• considering selling or sharing their art

• selling/sharing their art but struggling with the icky feelings associated with “shoulds,” “rules,” and “business stuff,”

• wanting to make art in general

• or anyone who has read this far and doesn’t necessarily create but you’re reading it - just know you can apply this to anything you feel inspired to do in your life, whether art-related or not

Wherever you’re at, whatever thing it is that you’re considering doing or making in your life… bring it to mind and then proceed...

FIRST - ASK YOURSELF THESE VERY IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:

• Why am I doing this?

• Is this what I want to spend my time on?

• Does this inspire me?

• Is it calling to me?

• Is it all I want to do with myself right now?

If the answer is “yes” to all or most of these, I think you have a heart decision - something in your heart is calling you to do or create whatever it is you’re thinking about. If you answered “no” to most, your heart might not want to do this thing.

Now, ask yourself these questions:

• Am I doing this because someone said I should?

• Am I doing this because it’s what you’re “supposed to do”?

• Am I doing this because it seems “smart”?

• Am I doing this because it’s what someone else has done/said that probably knows what they’re talking about/doing?

If you answered “yes” to all or most of these, I think you have a brain decision - something your mind is telling you to do based on what you “think,” what you “know,” what you “think you know,” or what you’re “listening to from others.”

You could have said yes to questions on both sides - that’s fine. There’s no right or wrong answer here. I just believe that it’s important to ask yourself why - why you’re doing what you’re doing. That’s all. Know if it’s because you want to in your heart or whether it’s based on something else.

Moving forward, here’s my advice on a way to navigate the heart and mind when making decisions about what you’re creating or what you’re inspired to do in your life. When I say, “art” - remember that I believe art is any creative expression of yourself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a painting. Whatever YOU consider your art is what I’m talking about here.

Let Your Heart Guide Your Art:

1 - Create/take action based on what is inspiring you and calling you RIGHT NOW.

Sometimes it's a new idea, sometimes it's something that needs to heal, sometimes you just need to create for fun... this is following your heart, which creates happiness.

2 - Give the art/project/inspiration space to be whatever it needs to be/become

Aka, DON'T RUSH THE PROCESS, just let it do its own thing... and take pics so you can remember how you did it - this comes in later... this is giving your heart time to create the thing in its own timing.

3 - Once it's complete, ENJOY IT ALL TO YOURSELF BEFORE YOU SHARE IT.

Because sometimes when you share it, it can immediately lose its dazzle effect on you and create pressure for outside affirmation or sales. That kind of pressure is unnecessary when evaluating your own art and journey. AKA - soak it in!

4 - Write about it somewhere.

Document why it is special to you, what you love about it, title it, whatever feels natural to write down at this point. This will help so much when time passes and you try to convince yourself that it was bad art, or when someone doesn’t like it, or if it doesn’t sell, etc. It will give you a reminder to revisit when you wonder why you did this thing in the first place.

5 - After that, then decide… do I want this for myself? Do I want to share this with the world? Do I want to sell this? Can I let this go?

Try to let your heart answer… and if you want it for yourself, KEEP IT. If you feel like… “I want to share this with the world!!” then do it! If you want someone to be able to purchase this from you, if you’re willing to let it go live with someone else forever, list it for sale. That is the brain and the heart making a decision together, considering what is best for the heart before switching over to the brain/business side of things.

6 - If you decide to keep the original to yourself, would others enjoy this in the form of a print, product or resource?

If so, do you feel like turning it into one? If yes, proceed by using the original to create a print, product, or resource. If you don’t want to spend time on it, DON’T. This, again, is a joint decision between the heart and the brain that will keep you HAPPY in the long run. (This is the step I’m currently working on)

It takes practice in trusting yourself to make it through each step without jumping ahead. In the past, I usually have shared art pieces and projects in stage 1 - but that has let all kinds of voices and influences inside my headspace that I wasn’t ready to let in yet. 

None of this is to say that you can’t share or sell things in any other way/order - this is just a process that I’ve found very helpful for keeping the act of creating, my art process, sacred. It gives me space to learn what I need to from what I’m creating before feeling any outside pressure. It allows me to process my own journey uninfluenced by any type of outside affirmation, engagement, or lack thereof, that I might get from sharing it in a post. 

You inevitably will find your own process and what works best for your heart and your mind. This is part of creating your own path and living your own journey. My hope is that this helps give you a trail map of sorts - a path I’ve gone down that helps free me up to more exploration and joy in my art than feeling pressure to share/sell everything I create or that it all has to amount to something.

Does this resonate with you? I’d love to hear how this process helps you if you try it! You can reach me on IG or here to let me know.

Keep going, friend.

♥

perfect discovery

"perfect discovery"

I have been through a lot. And as my life has been pulled from one phase to the next, so has my art. I see that it's literally a reflection of what's going on inside of me, I know that. And I'm still intrigued by the way it teaches me about myself in ways that no friend, counselor, or self-help book can.

The past few weeks I've been really into taking old scraps and making them into something new. I now see the significance.

I think it's part of a healing process, but it looks to me like I'm taking old broken pieces of myself - things that were let go of, ignored, stifled, or suppressed, things that have changed over the years, things that were packed away - and looking at them with new eyes.

How did I become the way I am today? What can I do with all of these broken pieces? How can I make this new and whole again?

Those are some of the questions that have been on my mind as I see these pieces take shape.

This one, in particular, was really hard for some reason. I had originally been using this piece of paper underneath a painting to catch the dripping paint so that it wouldn't splatter onto the floor (those pink and blue splatters on the bottom layer). I saved the paper to use again, but one day I was teaching Ralph about mixed media painting - I’d spread out all the different supplies I had and grabbed a few pieces of “scrap paper” to work with. So this was in that stack of scrap paper, and when I saw it, something about it told me this was the “first layer” of a painting. (for more about my painting process, click here)

I got out a watercolor pencil and wrote down the words that were on my mind across the top of the paper. Then I made one "response" after another, listening to whatever felt good to add next, and doing it.

I looked through my mixed media supplies and found a Zip-loc bag full of magazine pages and scraps I’ve saved since high school. I used to decorate my binder covers with them. Anyway, one of the pages I’ve saved forever has a picture of a giant amusement park swing on it - you know, the ones that light up like a carousel and you’re suspended as it swings you around its axis in a circle and tilts to the side a bit, makes you feel like you’re floating.

I've added parts of swing to my vision board because I imagine that feeling when I’m writing music - suspended, floating, lit up - so adding a little piece of it here on this mixed media painting felt uplifting and like I'm on the right track.

But there was this big spot on the paper that no matter what I added to it or painted around it, it just felt wrong.

So I dug through my paper scraps one more time and found this beautiful bird (I think it’s a heron?). I love birds. And though it has literally nothing to do with anything else on this painting, though it's pretty bare in terms of color and design, it made total sense to add it right there on top of the mess, to literally cover up the part that was bothering me with something that felt new and beautiful.

But the bird was so different than every other element of the painting that it did stick out a little bit, so I decided to soften it down. I used some thin white paint to blend around it and out towards the edge of the watercolor paper. I covered over the words so that they felt softer too.

“perfect” and “discovery” stared at me.

I stared back and thought to myself, “this feels like me.”

There are very few paintings I’ve ever finished that caused me to feel that way. Most of them are just satisfying to finish, and though they all have their own symbolic message or meaning to them, not all of them truly “feel like me.”

But this one did. And it’s very different than most of the work I’ve done to date. It’s very different from the other paintings that have also “felt like me.”

And now I understand why - because it literally is me. It is totally representative of where I’m at right now.

I am the scrap paper.

I was used to keep a mess from spilling.

I was used to keep the surface clean.

I am the keeper of what spilled over and was left with me.

I am the one that is stuck with a mess.

I have done everything I can

to fix it, to blend it, to change it, to make peace with it,

to make it beautiful again.

I have added my inspiration to it

and put my dreams into it,

a way of trying to keep going

when I probably should have stopped.

And still there was this mess

I couldn’t do anything about.

So I looked through all of me and

AHA!

This!

I will put this

beautiful new thing

right on top and it will cover up the mess.

It will make it all new again…

Well.

Okay, that was good,

but now everything else has to settle down.

Everything else has to be calm

for this new thing to work.

How can I make everything else calm?

I must soften up all those thoughts

that used to tell me everything has to be perfect to work out.

I have to accept

that the best discoveries are made when we

let go of perfection

and what we think has to happen

in order to allow and receive what happens

naturally, softly, gently.

What unfolds on its own.

But to do that, everything else must be calm.

And in this calm you see, the beautiful is still the center of it all,

it’s still the focus.

But everything else must be

calm.

And this, my friends,

is the perfect discovery.

You may not understand this, and that’s okay with me. I know it’s a bit abstract.

But that’s the whole point of art isn’t it? To express what’s hard to put into words? To reveal the within?

♥

screw the algorithm

I feel like my heart is changing.

I took a break from social media this past week just to clear my head. I've done this several times, each bringing new realizations.

I'm continually learning that it's a hard place for me to be sometimes. as much as I'd love to say I don't compare myself to everything I see, that's not 100% true.

but not just that. I'm learning that the more active I am on Instagram, the more I feel this PUSH PUSH PUSH to do more and more and more. when I just stop logging on for a week, I don't feel that way.

when did I become this way?

when did I start feeling like I have to be pushing so hard all the time? I know I've posted about this before and risk sounding like a broken record, but there's got to be another way without so much hustle all the time.

a way that still feels organic and true.

I have tried planning out posts in advance just to keep "consistency" and "relevancy," posting every day to stay up on my followers newsfeeds where you'd see my stuff even if I have nothing new to post daily - because it was already all typed out. hash-tagging the max number of hashtags allowed to hopefully gain some new followers. liking and commenting and engaging with others. you know, the “best practices.”

I've also tried posting one day at a time, as I go, with whatever I’m doing that’s “cohesive", “relevant,” or “on-brand,” and EVERY time I use this method, I get sucked back into that same old mindset of never being enough, doing enough, gaining enough ground.

there has to be something in the middle.

I work in social media at my day job, and I've read about this for years. I understand that the *algorithm* works for those who work it - but what about those who seriously do 👏 not 👏 have 👏 time 👏 ?

what about those who work a full-time job, who are busy parenting, who want to live more life offline than on?

and at what point did I start caring more about the aesthetic on my profile and the likes on each post than the life I'm living and the work I'm creating in the real world?

these are the questions I've been reflecting on, and while I could trace back through time to all the thoughts, decisions, and circumstances that lead me here, I will just skip all that and get to the conclusions I've made.

I am an artist, and as much as I love to figure things out, trying to keep up with the algorithm has never been healthy for my mind or my soul.

trying to post everyday to stay consistent/relevant isn’t always conducive with my inspiration, schedule, life, or anything else for that matter.

I am a human, I’m not a business. *duh*, yes I know. but I don’t feel like following a marketing schedule or plan. I feel like telling you about something when I’m excited about it, sharing a picture while I’m working on it. I don’t feel like meeting deadlines and scheduling stuff in advance. it doesn’t feel true to me.

I created this space (caitlininprogress) to experiment with all of these things. to truly be in progress on my journey and finding my own way, and document all the twists and turns. and you know what I just did? I got back into my old hustle mindset, the one that makes me prioritize “business” strategy over real life stuff that’s happening over here. this. is. bad.

I love the community aspects of Instagram, staying connected to people I’ve met and people I never will, so I’ve been brainstorming ways to capitalize more on that positive effect without letting the negative effects get such a mighty grip on me.

but overall, I don’t want Instagram to have such an impact on me and my mental health, inspiration, and just life in general. I really don’t.

so.

this is caitlin [in progress] here, telling you where i’m at in my head right now.

i’ve decided to say “screw the algorithm” and post what I want, when I want, how I want. i’m not going to worry about likes and followers or sales in the shop.

because at the end of the day, I know that being an artist isn’t an end goal or a certain checkpoint/milestone/number of followers/figure in the bank account.

it’s a way of life.

♥

give in to the growing pains.

Let me tell you about my painting process or this really won’t make sense.

A couple years ago, I came across “brave intuitive painting,” a movement and painting process started and taught by Flora Bowley, an abstract artist.

I don’t really know what led me to her instagram, but I’m pretty sure I was exploring #abstractart.

She approaches each painting without a plan, without an intention, and has learned how to truly tune in to her intuition and paint from within. She adds colors to her palette that “feel” good to her in the moment, she responds intuitively to each stroke and layer she adds to the canvas, making marks as she’s inspired and of what she’s inspired by, and she doesn’t stop until it feels done. In a nutshell.

Typing it out like that makes it look like it’s simple, and in a way it is. But in a way, it’s seriously not.

Because until you try painting this way, you have absolutely no idea how many thoughts you have in your mind telling you what to do.

How many voices pile up telling you how it should be, how things should go, what it’s “supposed” to look like and how it’s “supposed to happen.”

When you approach a canvas without a plan and attempt to paint without any idea of what’s going to happen or what it will turn out like, something really interesting happens.

First, it’s super fun. YAY NO RULES takes over for a little while.

Until you take a step back and look at the mess you’ve made. Until you notice all the weird things that stylistically don’t work, all the colors that got muddy, and the total non-direction of a painting you have going on.

Then, your critic shows up. It tells you how awful your painting is and how terrible of an artist you are.

“How dare you?” It whispers. “Who do you think you are?”

This is what Flora calls the “awkward teenager phase” of the painting. Where you look at it and have no idea what to do with it, and it feels super awkward.

So the brave, intuitive part comes in when you make a conscious choice to ignore what the inner critic is desperately trying to convince you, and you keep painting. Without a plan.

And then suddenly, when the time is just right, you step away to admire your work and realize… it’s finished.

AND THE MORE YOU DO THIS, THE CLEARER YOUR VOICE BECOMES.

I didn’t believe that at first. I didn’t believe that I had a painting voice or a painting style. I desperately wanted one. And every time I vented about it on social media, people would reassure me that I did indeed have a unique painting voice.

But it didn’t feel like it was mine to me.

That is, until about a year ago.

A year ago, I’d been working in this brave intuitive painting process for several months and finally feeling like I was getting somewhere, like I could look at a collection of my work and see my voice. Feel my voice.

And over the past year, the more I painted, the more I listened, the louder that voice became internally. I can actually feel it. I can look at my paintings and know what each color, each mark, each stroke, each technique means. It all comes from within. Something I’ve experienced or felt. Something I remembered. Something I thought about and questioned for days. Something I needed. Something I wanted. Something I hoped for.

My paintings are my heart on display.

This painting technique has taught me that I can feel the difference between the thoughts in my mind and the voice of my heart, of my intuition.

I don’t think I’d slowed down long enough before to listen well or understand it.

And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ever listen to the thoughts in your mind.

But there is a difference.

So I’m sure you can imagine how I felt the day my heart voice spoke to me and told me to cut this painting off the stretcher bars and into pieces.

My head voice screamed!

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT.”

“YOU’LL RUIN IT FOREVER.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT PAINTINGS ARE FOR, WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”

“YOU WORKED SO LONG AND SO HARD ON THAT PAINTING AND YOU WERE PROUD OF IT. WHY CUT IT ALL UP INTO PIECES?”

I didn’t know.

But I listened.

It took me a few days to follow through, but when I had the chance to find some quiet, alone time in my art room, I pulled the painting off the wall, sat on the floor, and cut the painting completely apart.

The painting was called, “Give in to the Growing Pains,” and as I sat there holding it in pieces on the floor, I felt two complete different emotions at the same time - relief and confusion.

It hurt.

And I thought back to why I painted it to begin with -

I had just moved to McKinney. I even used the fallen leaves from my favorite succulents, the ones that didn’t make it through the move, to create some of the marks you see on the painting. It was the first painting to combine both earth elements and sky. It held so much pain, depression, hope, and inspiration, all in one. It was the first of many that would begin to truly feel like “me.” And the name of it came from my heart gently teaching me that it’s okay to feel pain. That there’s always a pain when you’re growing. That something beautiful can come from a time a growth. That it’s okay. That I was okay.

So to cut it apart really hurt.

And yet, at the same time, it felt freeing. It felt like I was releasing all of the pain in the painting and freeing it up to be joyful again. And I had no idea what I was going to do with all the pieces.

So recently, as I pulled them all out to look at them again, I noticed something.

Inside each of those pieces - some big, some small - was its own little masterpiece. Each complete in its own little way. Each with its own narrative and its own meaning. I have never felt such a sense of renewed hope as I did that day.

So now I think…

Maybe the growing pains are worth it.

Maybe when it feels like your life is so full of so many things, things that don’t always match up or work, things that are crazy and happy and sad and tearful and scary and exciting, all at the same time, that actually it’s the sum of a thousand tiny masterpieces all coming together to make one whole painting.

That each little tiny piece counts.

Even the painful ones.

♥