Make Your Art No Matter What

Make Your Art No Matter What Plot Summary

Introduction

Artists often face unique challenges that can test their resolve and creative spirit. In a world filled with financial pressures, time constraints, and self-doubt, maintaining a vibrant artistic practice can feel overwhelming. Yet these very struggles contain the seeds of transformation and growth. When we embrace our creative identity fully and navigate obstacles with intention, we discover that our artistic practice isn't just something we do—it's an essential part of who we are. The journey toward creative resilience isn't about eliminating difficulties, but developing tools to move through them with grace. Throughout these pages, we'll explore practical strategies for structuring your time, managing finances, overcoming fear, building community, and nurturing your spiritual well-being. These insights come from hundreds of working artists who have faced similar challenges and found their way forward. Their stories reveal that thriving doesn't require perfect circumstances—it requires presence, persistence, and a willingness to show up for your creative life even during uncertain times.

Chapter 1: Embrace Your Creative Identity

At the heart of artistic resilience is a strong, clear sense of creative identity. Many people struggle with calling themselves artists, feeling they haven't earned the title through sales, exhibitions, or formal training. This hesitation often stems from cultural messages about who gets to be an artist and what "real" artists look like. However, the simplest definition is the most liberating: artists are people who make art. Consider Ramziya, an Arab American visual artist with an MFA from a prestigious program. Despite her impressive exhibition history and passionate fan base, she struggled with asking for help with her career. When faced with requesting a letter of recommendation from her best friend Stella, a successful curator, Ramziya physically curled into a fetal position on her consultant's couch, convinced the task would "kill her." This paralysis reflected a deeper crisis of identity—the fear that asking for support would reveal her as unworthy of the artistic opportunities she sought. After fifteen minutes of resistance and encouragement from her consultant, Ramziya finally sent the text message requesting help. Stella's immediate response? "Of course!" This moment reveals how our creative identity often faces its greatest threats not from external rejection but from internal resistance to claiming the support we need to thrive. Embracing your creative identity means acknowledging that making art is not just something you do occasionally—it's a vital expression of who you are. When you distance yourself from your creative practice, your quality of life suffers. Making your work becomes a way to care for yourself, process information, engage your spiritual interior, and strengthen relationships with yourself and others. To reinforce your artistic identity, begin with three fundamental practices. First, make time each week for your creative work, even if it's just thirty minutes. Second, cultivate relationships with other active artists who support both themselves and you. Finally, regularly experience other people's art in all its forms. These three pillars create a foundation upon which your artistic identity can flourish. Remember that your unique constellation of dreams and fears deserves attention and care. By embracing your identity as an artist—without qualification or apology—you create space for your creative life to unfold with greater authenticity and power.

Chapter 2: Structure Your Time with Intention

Time is perhaps the most precious resource for artists, yet many feel they never have enough. The feeling of being constantly busy, of having too many demands and too little time for creative work, is nearly universal. This time scarcity isn't just about external obligations—it's often connected to deeper perceptions about value, productivity, and what constitutes "real" work in our culture. Beth Pickens, an arts consultant, shares a revealing story about visiting a planetarium with her wife, who is a writer and painter. As the narrator explained that the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old, Beth felt ease and relief at being "only a speck in time," while her wife heaved a guttural, existential sigh. This "Speck Syndrome," as Beth calls it, reflects the primal reaction many artists have when reminded of life's brevity—how can one possibly tend to everything they want in such a limited lifetime? The difference in their reactions highlights an important truth: our relationship with time is largely shaped by our perspective. For Beth, remembering mortality brings clarity and motivation—"You are going to die. I will, too. We have to make choices about time because we have the finite gift of one existence. You should make your art." This death acceptance inspires her to prioritize how she spends her days and with whom. To structure your time with intention, begin by understanding how you currently spend it. Many artists can't accurately account for their typical week without checking calendars or apps. Start by tracking your time in fifteen-minute increments for seven days, noting everything from sleep to social media scrolling. This exercise often reveals "unaccounted for hours" that can be reclaimed for creative work. Next, adopt practical strategies for protecting creative time. Jewish tradition offers the concept of Shabbat—a twenty-four-hour period each week devoted to rest, spiritual connection, and freedom from work. Adapting this practice by designating one day weekly when you abstain from money-making work (even your art) can restore joy and meaning while reminding you that you are more than your productivity. For freelancers or those with irregular schedules, developing transitional rituals helps ease movement between open time and structured work. Try taking a day off before diving into a creative project, then develop warm-up exercises—dancing, meditating, reading art books—to ease your mind and body into creative work rather than expecting immediate productivity. Remember that how we spend our days is how we spend our lives. By structuring your time with intention, you feed what matters most to you, allowing it to grow and flourish.

Chapter 3: Navigate Financial Challenges

Money conversations often trigger powerful emotional responses from artists. Many weep, hyperventilate, laugh nervously, or procrastinate on financial tasks when asked to address their economic reality. This intense reaction isn't surprising—money is deeply emotional, connected to our families, identities, and perceptions of value in a capitalist system that often undervalues artistic labor. Nicole J. Georges, a graphic memoirist, describes her relationship with money as influenced by what she calls "punk damage"—a type of demonization of money and those who seek it. For a period, she stopped taking commissions for custom pet portraits (an essential part of her income) because not everybody in her community could afford them. She couldn't reconcile charging a fair price for her skill with the reality that not everyone could have one. This financial self-limitation impacted her art career significantly. Georges' experience reflects a common pattern: artists often internalize conflicting messages about money, believing either that true artists shouldn't care about finances or that they're failures if they don't make a living solely from their art. Breaking free from these patterns requires both practical skills and emotional awareness. To begin navigating your financial landscape, first acknowledge your emotional relationship with money. Write responses to questions like: "How was money discussed in your family growing up?" "What financial secrets cause you shame?" and "What would financial health look like for you?" After writing, notice physical sensations in your body and any patterns in your thinking. Next, develop practical skills for financial literacy. Try the "Tiny Notebook" exercise—record every cent you spend for three months, categorizing expenses weekly in a spreadsheet. Simultaneously track all income sources. This three-month snapshot provides accurate data about your financial reality, revealing both fixed expenses (rent, utilities) and variable costs you might adjust (dining out, entertainment). With this data, select one achievable financial goal for the next six to eighteen months, such as building emergency savings or reducing specific debt. Create a plan that either reduces expenses, increases income, or both. For variable expenses, visualize a mixing console where you can temporarily "turn down" certain categories to free up money for other priorities. Remember that your creative practice is valuable regardless of whether it generates income. Consider separating employment (work for income) from your art (creative practice, paid and unpaid). As one client discovered, "What if your art gives you life and your employment pays for that life?" This perspective reduces pressure on your creative work while honoring its essential role in your well-being. Finally, connect with others for accountability and support. Tell someone supportive about your financial plan and ask for specific encouragement. Financial change works best through community, small achievable goals, and the knowledge that your future self will be grateful for the steps you take today.

Chapter 4: Overcome Fear and Resistance

Fear is the constant companion of nearly every artist. Whether it's fear of rejection, inadequacy, visibility, or success, these emotional responses can paralyze creative work and prevent artists from pursuing opportunities. Understanding and navigating fear—rather than trying to eliminate it—is essential for maintaining a sustainable creative practice. Beth Pickens describes her own experience with fear while writing: "I am afraid every single time I sit down to write this book. The fears are varied...What if I can't think of anything good to write? What if my readers hate what I write? What if they take to the Internet to lacerate my good name?" These thoughts mirror what countless artists experience when facing their creative work. The solution isn't eliminating fear but developing a healthier relationship with it. Consider a client who was terrified to ask successful friends for career advice. When asked to articulate exactly what frightened her, within four "And then what?" queries from her consultant, her fear spiral led to "dying alone in the street." This catastrophizing reveals how everyday creative fears—of asking for help, facing rejection, or making mediocre work—can feel in our bodies like the primal fear of certain danger. To transform your relationship with fear, practice the three A's: awareness, acceptance, and action. Begin by becoming aware of your fears through creating a "fears list"—capturing the specific thoughts that arise when you approach your creative work. Notice which fears are funny, obvious, confusing, or shameful. Then practice radical acceptance of these fears without judgment, viewing them as data about your interior rather than as evidence of weakness or failure. With awareness and acceptance established, you can take action—not by eliminating fear but by moving forward despite it. The "rock-climbing visualization" helps break down intimidating tasks into micro-steps. Imagine yourself as a rock climber with protective gear and a climbing partner. When stuck on the cliff face, ask: "What would be the smallest step that is movement but still feels safe?" For an artist afraid to ask for help, this might mean simply making a list of potential people to approach, without immediately contacting them. "Contrary action" is another powerful tool—doing precisely what your fearful thoughts tell you not to do. When you identify thought patterns that limit your creative life, taking opposite action, even in small ways, can disrupt these patterns and create new possibilities. For instance, an artist afraid of studio visits might start by inviting trusted friends to discuss her work, gradually building comfort with the process. Remember that fear isn't bad; it simply exists. By acknowledging its presence without allowing it to dictate your choices, you create space for your creative work to evolve and flourish even as fear continues to arise.

Chapter 5: Build Your Support Community

Artists need community—not just for emotional support but for the practical exchange of resources, knowledge, and opportunities that sustain creative work over a lifetime. No successful artist truly creates alone, though the myth of the solitary genius persists in our cultural imagination. Metallica's interpersonal dynamics, as captured in the 2004 documentary "Some Kind of Monster," reveal how creative collaborations function like families, with members playing out their historic family roles. Frontman James Hetfield entered rehab for alcoholism, drummer Lars Ulrich confronted decades of resentment over Hetfield's controlling personality, and guitarist Kirk Hammett desperately tried to make peace. Their group therapy sessions demonstrate that artistic partnerships require attending to multiple dimensions of relationships. Building effective support systems begins with yourself. The longest relationship you will ever have is with yourself, making this your primary relationship. Artists who work on their relationship to themselves through therapy, recovery programs, or other healing modalities often find themselves able to sink deeper into their creative work, experimenting without fear of judgment. Contrary to the stereotype that suffering produces better art, artists who prioritize their well-being typically produce more work and develop new creative directions. Next, consider your family relationships—both biological and logical (chosen). Berkeley artist Miriam Klein Stahl describes how she and her spouse, artist Lena Wolff, navigate parenthood: "We have a great team at switching out work time with other responsibilities. I am able to make art and books, and teach, only because Lena is minding the house and schlepping our kid around and I am doing that when she needs work time." Their daughter Hazel explains: "I feel an association with the creative part of myself and part of an arts community. I feel like I don't know any other way of being in the world." Creative collaborations require special attention. Artists Chris Vargas and Greg Youmans initiated a web sitcom together while beginning a romantic relationship. The project lasted six years before ending due to different production standards and shifting interests. Chris explains: "Greg is a perfectionist and I am not at all; that bred a lot of tension. It was necessary to end that project at the time. Many years later, we are excited by the possibility of collaborating again using the wisdom gained from our past experience." To build your artist community, seek out mentorship relationships—both receiving and providing guidance. Look for artists whose wisdom you value, then simply ask if they would mentor you. Simultaneously, offer yourself as a mentor to emerging artists. You have wisdom to share regardless of your career stage. Finally, connect with your artistic lineage. You come from long lines of artists connected through identity, politics, aesthetics, and materials. By learning about these predecessors and understanding their context, you place yourself in an endless continuum that extends before and after your lifetime. This connection through space and time provides a foundation of belonging that sustains creative work through challenges.

Chapter 6: Market Your Work with Confidence

Many artists feel deep resistance to promoting their work. One poet described her marketing efforts as making her "want to die"—an exaggeration, but only just. After sending email newsletters or posting on social media, artists often feel paralyzed, embarrassed, and need to hide out or even nap to recover from the vulnerability of self-promotion. This aversion stems from several sources. Some artists have internalized the message that they shouldn't have to advertise their work—that truly good art will simply find its audience without promotion. Others fear judgment or loss of control over how they're perceived. There's also the cultural capital of obscurity that some artists, particularly those from pre-digital generations, may still value. Beth Pickens admits her own resistance to marketing: "I didn't have a website until 2017, many years into my consulting practice." Her business grew through word-of-mouth alone. However, when her first book was published, she realized she couldn't sell it that way. This led to a perspective shift: "This subtle shift in thinking—from promoting one's self to one's work—can be a helpful change of perspective." The reality is that in today's digital landscape, obscurity no longer adds value to art. With unprecedented competition for attention, artists must actively share their work with potential audiences. Your fans—current and future—want to know about opportunities to experience and support your work. They would be disappointed, even irritated, if you didn't tell them about it. To market your work effectively, start with these essential tools: First, create a website—even a simple one—that includes contact information, an email sign-up, bio, artist statement, and documentation of recent work. This digital "lily pad" allows interested parties to find you and learn about your work on your terms. Beth notes that as a curator, she often sought out artists' websites when considering them for opportunities: "Artists with no websites (or hopelessly outdated websites) made my job difficult, and my department was always under time constraints." Second, establish one professional social media account dedicated solely to your work and creative interests. Choose the platform most appropriate for your discipline and treat it as part of your job—updating it regularly but not becoming consumed by it. Third, build an email list to maintain direct contact with your audience. Send updates monthly or quarterly about your work, events, and news. Direct emailing often holds attention longer than social media posts and allows you to reach people more reliably. Fourth, leverage partnerships for cross-promotion. When you work with organizations or other artists, exchange marketing resources to expand your reach through combined channels. Finally, send personalized invitations to people whose presence matters to you. A brief, individual message explaining why you'd like someone to attend your event stands out amid mass marketing. Remember that marketing is a skill—not an inborn talent—that improves with practice. If you find certain aspects particularly challenging, consider outsourcing to professionals or trading skills with other artists in your community. Whatever approach you take, remember that your work deserves to be seen, and helping people discover it is an act of generosity, not vanity.

Chapter 7: Cultivate Spiritual Well-being

Artists have a unique relationship with both the spiritual dimensions of existence and the reality of mortality. Your creative practice often serves as a conduit for processing life's deepest questions and connecting to something larger than yourself. This spiritual dimension of artmaking deserves attention and cultivation. When Beth Pickens asks new clients about their spiritual lives, she often encounters raised eyebrows. Many artists, particularly those who identify as women, queer, or transgender, have experienced harm from religious institutions or communities. Some grew up in cults and carry significant trauma around spiritual language. Yet Pickens observes that artists' creative practices often already function as spiritual activity: "When artists are in their creative work, they are able to deeply connect to themselves, other people, the world, and worlds beyond. This, to me, is the essence of a spiritual practice." Documentary filmmaker Sophie Huber's "Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes" captures a profound spiritual lesson through jazz. In the film, pianist Herbie Hancock recounts playing with Miles Davis when he accidentally hit a "bad chord" during a performance. Consumed with shame at his mistake, Hancock was amazed when Davis listened to the dissonant sound and responded purposefully on his trumpet, transforming the moment into something transcendent. This experience taught Hancock that we are not responsible for our first thought (the judgment of his mistake), but for our second thought and first action (how we respond). This principle applies to creative practice as well. Our initial thoughts are often steeped in fear, judgment, or old patterns. By noticing these thoughts without identifying with them, we create space for new possibilities. The exercise of identifying your "first thought" about your work, then consciously creating a "second thought" that questions or soothes the first, can transform your creative experience. Spirituality also encompasses our relationship with mortality. Artists throughout history have helped humanity confront death, creating work that offers pathways through grief and acceptance. Photographer AA Bronson's portrait "Felix Partz, June 5, 1994" captures his collaborator just hours after his AIDS-related death, surrounded by vibrant colors and patterns. Edwidge Danticat's "The Art of Death" weaves her mother's cancer journey with literary explorations of how writers approach mortality. These works provide what Beth calls "small road maps, demarcating pathways of thinking about the most inconceivable fact of living." Cultivating "death acceptance"—the practice of regularly remembering your mortality—may seem counterintuitive but often enhances life appreciation. By acknowledging that your time is limited, you become more present to what matters, more motivated to pursue meaningful work, and more grateful for each day. This practice doesn't eliminate fear of death but transforms how you relate to that fear. To develop your spiritual interior, consider questions like: How does your creative practice connect to something larger than yourself? Which deaths have been significant in your life, and what did they teach you? What art brings you closer to understanding mortality or spirituality? Your responses may reveal how your creative practice already serves as spiritual work, connecting you to deeper truths about existence. Remember that wherever you are in your relationship to spirituality is exactly where you're supposed to be. There is no goal, just a lifelong willingness to explore, question, and grow—much like the creative process itself.

Summary

The journey toward creative resilience isn't about eliminating difficulties, but developing the capacity to navigate them with grace and purpose. Throughout these pages, we've explored practical strategies for embracing your artistic identity, structuring your time intentionally, managing financial challenges, overcoming fear, building community, marketing your work, and nurturing spiritual well-being. Each of these elements contributes to a sustainable creative practice that can weather life's inevitable storms. As Beth Pickens reminds us: "Your life is finite, and you should make your art. Things will get in the way and you should still make your art." This powerful truth sits at the heart of creative resilience. When we recognize the limited nature of our time here, we can more clearly prioritize what matters most. Today, take one small action that affirms your commitment to your creative practice—whether that's scheduling studio time, reaching out to another artist, or simply sitting down to make something, however imperfect. Remember that your art is always waiting for you, ready to welcome you back whenever you return.

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Beth Pickens

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