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The blank canvas. A new Word document. A ball of fresh yarn. A length of plain fabric. An empty garden patch. All of them have one thing in common: unlimited potential.
Perhaps that’s why artists and creatives fear the “blank canvas” so much.
Sometimes consciously, other times subconsciously, we project all our fears and insecurities on to it. And then we stare at that vast white space, paralyzed. Unsure of ourselves, our artistic ability, our creative talents.
It happens to the best of us — the occasional artist, who shows up to the page sporadically; the hobby artist, who shows up rather regularly; and the working {or professional} artist, who shows up consistently.
At one time or another, we have all experienced the fear of the blank page.
But what if we look at the blank canvas not as the potential for a brand new masterpiece, but as a space where we get to simply show up today? To swipe some paint, write a string of words, knit a line or two, throw down some seeds and see what happens.
What if we look at the blank canvas as simply a space for a new beginning?
What happens on that canvas today doesn’t determine who we are as artists. It’s just the work we did today.
We can come back tomorrow and build upon what we laid down today.
We can change direction, whenever we want to.
We can steer our creative outpouring in a different direction.
We can begin again. And again.
One canvas doesn’t represent our potential for all eternity.
It is just one canvas in a long line that shows our history...our journey…as artists. With a new canvas, we write another chapter in that long history that builds over time, with each new piece of art, writing, or embroidery that we create.
The blank canvas, a fresh page, a ball of yarn are just tools that we use to learn, to explore, experiment and try new things.
So pick up your paints, your pens, your embroidery needles, and start.
Swipe some paint. Respond to it.
Write a few words, build upon them.
Make a few stitches, and then a few more.
You can build up, erase, re-stitch. But as you paint or write or stitch, the initial fear will slowly subside, and before you know it, your canvas will be blank no more. It will be a reflection of who you are in this moment, based on your current experiences and expertise.
Tomorrow, a fresh canvas awaits. To be filled up again. And slowly, one painting at a time, you write your history of who you are as an artist. A history that is as varied and unique as you are. That is allowed to shift, change, and grow as you do.
Won’t you pull out a blank canvas and make some marks today?
Let’s chat!
I love chatting with you in the comments or via e-mail. Here are a few questions to help us get the conversation rolling:
What fears raise their head when you approach the blank canvas?
How do you overcome the fear of the blank canvas?
What do you think about each new canvas or painting or piece of writing being just one chapter of your ever evolving history?
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I struggle with this more from an anxiety perspective - the paralyzing fear of the unknown. I had a discussion with a friend once where we were talking about my move to LA. I was nervous (understandably) but any excitement was drowned out by nerves. While I was nervous about not knowing what was going to happen next, she pointed out that this was instead exciting and that anything could happen. I try to remember and put that reframe into practice.
I need to print this out and put it on my fridge 😁 ! thank you