Taming the Inner Critic

Art imitates life. Value your own work. It’s a part of you.

The inner critic has been a strong presence all my life. It is well practiced and ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. It humbles me. But if I have learned anything from this journey of aging, it is resilience and patience. When triggered, I have learned to take a breath, step back, process what might have just happened. Learned to try and see my part and what may need to be adjusted. And learned to try and see what is just fine and needs to be not only left alone but valued and defended. Let me share what happened to bring on this latest epiphany. 

I have been enjoying art and painting since I retired over three years ago. I have no problem acknowledging that I am very much a beginner. I did not study art, have no degree in art and have only taken several adult evening classes to learn some basic techniques. 

I love it and I love what shows up on the canvas. It feels like it is something that comes through me, not from me. Like my writing feels at times as well.

I even joined an art association. This has pluses and minuses.

Pluses. I get to be around other artists, learn things, be able to be part of art exhibits and shows where I can be among those who display their work in public. That’s wonderful. Scary, but wonderful.

Minuses. Comparison to others. Daring to allow my art to be on the wall next to theirs. Fighting all the inner critics and voices that ask me who do I think that I am. Voices that tell me that I have no right to be there. 

I am 70 now, and I have decided that it is high time to seriously talk back to those voices and inner critics. Because time grows short. Because there is a limited time when I can paint and show those parts of myself to the world. It is me on the canvas or in the piece of art standing before me. It is like a child of mine.

 It is me in the written words on the page.

 It is me in this life, standing before you. It is me. 

And that is good enough. 

I recently submitted a three-dimensional piece to an art show, as part of the association that I belong to. It is the first time that I have tried this type of work. And I treated myself and even got this piece framed and am having a base built for it to give it a more stable foundation. The frame and foundation were not cheap. 

I have no idea how this art measures up. I only know that it is a very special piece for me. It feels like a signature piece. It feels unique. And I want to honor it. Even if only for myself. I have no illusions that I can compare to great artists, but I am also very aware of how much art is in the eye of the beholder. As is beauty, yes?

I submitted this piece to the gallery where it will be exhibited, if accepted. I still have several weeks to edit my submission in case I want to change anything, which relaxed me and gave me more permission to go ahead and begin the submission process. Part of the submission process is listing a price for each piece submitted. 

 Yesterday I received a text message from a board member of the art association who was part of reviewing all the art submitted. In their message, they asked me if I had really meant the price that I quoted for this piece. Without saying it directly, the implied question was that this must have been a mistake. To be fair, it was more than I have ever asked for any piece before. But this piece was also different than anything I had ever exhibited before. 

Oh, how the chorus within me loved that question in this text that I received. The voices in my head jumped right on board with their comments of See! I told you so. Who did you think that you were? You should be embarrassed and ashamed. Go back into hiding. Get out of the light. 

For most of my life, I have struggled with not feeling as good as, as skilled as, or good enough. I won’t go into the background of this right now, but it has been one of the major issues in my life.

And now I have reached elderhood. And I am sick and tired of giving in to these voices and messages. Of allowing others to have that much power over me. Of allowing others the right to declare what I am worth or what something that I created may be worth. 

Aging is a gift that brings responsibility with it. A responsibility to oneself to finally say ENOUGH. I am good enough. I have had enough. I deserve to be among others. I have a right to be here and to show who I am. I have a right to dare to value myself. Just because. 

And so, I wrote back and told this person that, given the cost of the frame and the base alone, that yes, this was the price that I had written. 

I hope to at some point be even stronger in my responses to questions like this and make no excuses for myself, but simply to state Yes, that is the price. Yes, I meant that. No, it was not an error. And maybe even add and how rude of you to ask me that. 

I am not there yet. I will work on that.

It makes me think about how much power I have given to others all my life. It is time to take it back. Before I no longer have the chance to do that anymore. Before I die. To dare to be seen, claim my value (if only to myself) and stand strong in that. 

Am I still struggling with this issue? Do I feel like withdrawing this piece of art or bringing the price way down? Yes, I do. 

Will I do that? 

I will think about what a fair price might be, and allow room for some flexibility. Allow that the price may need to be a bit lower and that I do not need to pass on the exorbitant cost of the framing process to the potential buyer. Will I reduce the price by as much as half? No, I will not. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t sell. It might not sell even if I significantly lower the price. The point of my art is not to sell it, although it’s a lovely gift when I do. 

It would cost me in other ways if I were to lower that price too much. In ways and costs that I am no longer willing to pay. So I will live with my discomfort and allow that price to be displayed as is, once I decide how much, if at all, I will reduce it. Will I regret daring to have a price that others may think is too high? Maybe. I don’t know. But I must try. 

How much do we all put parts of ourselves out there and not have them valued or seen or appreciated? How much do we allow others to dictate what value we put on ourselves? How much of our lives do we give away and not live fully? How much of ourselves do we not care about and treat preciously and with love out of fear of what others might think? What experts might think.

I am feeling the pain of all those years of berating and discounting myself. 

I am feeling the self-doubt. I am feeling the shame and fear.

I am feeling the anxiety and desire to run away from showing any part of myself. 

And I am still here. 

 I will show this piece and learn from this experience. 

Isn’t that the point? To show up and learn? To experience life? 

So, I encourage you all to paint, write, sing, dance, whatever your heart calls you to do. Just because. Just because you are alive, and it is in you. And you deserve to be seen and heard and valued. Especially by yourself. 

And that is priceless.