Paul Gauguin–Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?
What still concerns me the most is: am I on the right track, am I making progress, am I making mistakes in art?
–Paul Gauguin
I run this post from about a decade ago every few years, usually when I am at a low ebb, when self-doubt is really nagging at me. It’s usually right around this time of the year, as work for my annual shows gets seriously underway. It’s a time of frantic ups and downs. Two days ago, I was wracked with self-doubt which created a roadblock that seemed impossible to get past. But that same day, I began work on a small piece and suddenly the roadblock was swept away. It’s a maddening, anxiety-filled time.
It’s during these times that I ask myself questions like those above that Gauguin posed for himself. This morning, with the elation of the small painting still hovering in the air, I feel pretty good. Fairly confident, feeling that my work is very much progressing and evolving in a positive way. But time has taught that by this afternoon doubt about my abilities or my own judgement of them might return with a vengeance.
So, I try not to dwell on it and attempt to simply work through it. That usually provides the answer to my questions and doubts. That’s what I am going to do right now, thank you.
At one of my gallery talks a year or two ago, I was asked about confidence in my work. I can’t remember the exact wording, but I got the feeling that the questioner perceived me as being very confident and seemed to imply that at a certain point in an artist’s evolution doubts fade away and one is absolutely certain and confident in their work.
I think I laughed a bit then tried to let them know that even though I stood up there and seemed confident in that moment, it was mere illusion, that I was often filled with raging doubts about my voice or direction or my ability. I wanted them to know that there were often periods when I lost all confidence in what I was doing, that there were days that turned into weeks where I bounced around in my studio, paralyzed with a giant knot in my gut because it seemed like everything I had done before was suddenly worthless and without meaning in my mind.
I don’t know that I explained myself well that day or if I can right now. There are moments (and days and weeks) of clarity where the doubts do ease up and I no longer pelt myself with questions that I can’t answer. Kind of like the title from the painting at the top, the masterpiece from Paul Gauguin, Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going? Those are tough questions to answer for anyone to answer, especially for a person who has little religious belief.
And maybe that’s the answer. Maybe my work has always served as a type of surrogate belief system, expressing instinctual reactions to these great questions. I don’t really know and I doubt that I ever will. I only hope that the doubts take a break once in a while.
There was another quote I was considering using for this subject from famed art critic Robert Hughes:
The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is given to the less talented as a consolation prize.
I liked the sentiment but it felt kind of self-serving, like saying that being aware of your own stupidity is actually a sign of your great intelligence. I paraphrase but that has been stated by many great thinkers down through history. While I would really like to believe that all those times when I realized I was dumb as a stump were actually evidence of my brilliance, I have real doubts about the logic as it pertains to myself. If it is true, there are a lot of geniuses out there operating under the guise of stupidity and overwhelming self-doubt.
However, if Hughes is correct then I may be one of the greatest artists of all time and a genius to boot.
But, at the moment, I have grave doubts about both of those assertions…
Redtree Times 