I wish I had thought of that

A while back, someone—quite innocently, I’m sure—applauded my creativity and said about one of my mosaics: “I wish I’d thought of that!” I know the comment was well-intentioned, but there was something about it that sort of needled me. I’m not taking issue with this individual or the comment specifically, but rather the implied notion that I’m inherently creative and these ideas just come to me in a burst of inspiration and genius. Spoiler alert: that’s not how it happens.

I get these ideas because I do the work. I put in my time in the studio. I brainstorm. I come up with terrible ideas and I come up with great ideas (and often the former evolve into the latter). I am constantly thinking, observing, playing, reading, connecting the dots, finding my voice, and making (and unmaking). What you see is the product of more hours, weeks, months, and years spent working than I care to count. Hours spent alone in my studio, some blissful, some angst-ridden. Hours spent figuring stuff out, taking classes, seeking out information, and practicing.

This is all work. Work, work, work, work, work, and work.

Of course part of my development has been (and still is) watching other artists, mosaic and beyond. That’s a no-brainer. But when I see them doing something amazing, the script in my head is not a defeated “Damn, I wish I’d thought of that,” it’s more like “Man, that’s so cool! I’m going to go back to my studio now and see what sort of crazy stuff I can come up with!” I take it as a challenge, but not in a competitive way. It’s more of an opening of possibilities and a way to push myself forward into new territory. That’s the beauty and value of being part of a community.

I’m not naturally gifted in the creativity department, and that’s not just me being modest. So if I can do this, trust me, you can too. Something that has always resonated with me is Keri Smith‘s tips on how to be an explorer of the world, and I embrace many of them as I strive to hone my creativity and my art practice. I offer them to you here in case they are helpful. So please don’t look wistfully at what I do, wishing you had my creativity. I certainly don’t have that market cornered. You can make things that capture your unique voice in this world. You just have to be willing to do the work. I can’t do it for you.
I’ve always struggled with that last one, with doing other people’s work for them. It’s likely a deadly combination of pride, high standards, and a genuine desire to be helpful. I was always the kid in class who’d pick up the slack in group projects. I spend more time at work than I should fixing things that will ultimately make other people look good. And I also get easily sucked into answering mosaic questions from perfect strangers asking how I do X, Y, or Z. But I’m getting a bit tired of doing other people’s work for them—in all areas of my life—and in the end it really doesn’t help anyone. So my motto for 2018? Do your own work (and I will keep doing mine).

Yes, I will still help others, but I’m going to be selective and just a little bit selfish. Do we have a relationship based on trust, friendship, collegiality, and reciprocity? Yes? Well then I’m happy to help. But the one-sided helping—the doing of others’ work for them—is getting phased out. Don’t know me but still want me to answer all your questions? Nope, sorry, not for free anymore. Want to know more about my work? Do your homework and read my blog. I make a point of being quite open and generous in my writing, and I spend a lot of time carefully crafting posts that cover the what and the why of my work, but I don’t go into the how and there’s a reason for that. If you still have questions after reading, by all means reach out and ask. But show me that you’ve done / are willing to do the work. I will gladly work with you and help guide you, I will arm you with the tools you need to do the work, but I won’t do it for you (this will be especially true once I’m set up to be able to offer classes). I am no longer in the business of giving quick and easy answers because it’s easier for you to ask than to do the digging. You need to be there, be engaged, be getting dirty in the trenches doing the work. I don’t mean for this to sound harsh, but as my wise friend Deb Englebaugh likes to remind me: I am not required to set myself on fire to keep others warm.

I have so much more to learn and explore in this medium, so many more ideas to uncover and polish (and so many duds to sift through and discard), so I’m going to keep showing up and doing the work. Do you like or admire what I do? Wish you could do it? You can (in your own way and with your own voice, of course). You just have to put in the work.

 

16 Responses to I wish I had thought of that

  1. Danette February 1, 2018 at 11:03 pm #

    Hi Julie. I enjoyed your recent post and was delighted to see you might one day teach classes. I have been contemplating taking a class this year since my mother passed away recently and in her passing, it has opened up time for me to pursue other activities. I’ve been following your work for several years and watched as this wonderful, inspirational artist emerged. Many a time, I gazed at your work in awe and followed those beautiful, expressive lines you created. But there is always more to enjoy and contemplate when your posts arrive in my inbox. Your expressive, thoughtful writing about your art and life. There are only a few mosaic artists who share so much of their art online and write so beautifully about mosaics and process! Thank you for sharing your art. Peace Danette

    • Julie Sperling February 5, 2018 at 9:58 am #

      I’m so sorry to hear of your mom’s passing, Danette. I’m heartened, though, that space is opening up for you to explore other activities. Enjoy your adventure, and thanks for following along! Hope our paths cross in real life one of these days.

  2. Kelley Knickerbocker February 2, 2018 at 10:13 am #

    So much yes!

  3. Elizabeth February 2, 2018 at 10:23 am #

    Bravo! Can’t wait to watch your art emerge this year! I broke my wrist ( my right dominate wrist”(),from a bad trip over the dog and tangled in an extension cord in my studio. so I’ve decided to look at this as opportunity to mine the Down Deep and explore avenues not yet experienced before……I so appreciate everything you’ve shared and look forward to this year…..I would love to take a class from you if that ever happens……all the best, Elizabeth

    • Julie Sperling February 5, 2018 at 10:00 am #

      Oh yikes! Wishing you a speedy recovery! What a great approach though, to use it as an opportunity to do that deep work. So important. You could also work on becoming ambidextrous ;-)

  4. lynnadamo February 2, 2018 at 10:53 am #

    I love how Kelley can make the perfect synopsis in so few words. Not so much me! I applaud you for this post. In addition to admiring your work, and following your progress for these years, I’ve always loved and respected your eloquent writing. You have shared so very much, and it is appreciated by many. But you are spot on about the offering a bit too much…in all aspects of your life… because that is the person you are. I relate deeply to this. All that listening and collecting life experience to develop one’s own voice also works to develop that strength of character that you’ve shared with us in this post.
    Thank you!

    • Julie Sperling February 5, 2018 at 9:55 pm #

      She does have a way with words, that one. But as do you! Thanks for following along and thanks for your ever-thoughtful comments. Sometimes I think the fact that I’ve written so much is partly why people feel comfortable asking questions — they feel like they know me, like we have a relationship. Can’t be mad at them for that, but I can start drawing boundaries.

  5. La Pasera February 2, 2018 at 6:24 pm #

    Hi
    Great article and many of your rumblings do resonate with my way of thinking too. I totally agree with how much can be learnt by simply admiring someone else’s work and trying to incorporate some of it with your particular way of interpreting the world and reality.
    Best wishes
    Luis

  6. Lee Angold February 2, 2018 at 9:09 pm #

    Amen! Similar comments such as “You’re so talented”, “You’re so gifted” and “Oh, you’re so lucky, I don’t have the dexterity/patience/mind for that” are equally grating. I honestly can’t tell you what spark of natural artistic talent I ever had because it is completely irrelevant beside the tens of thousands of hours of focused effort I’ve put in over my life. Do the work. In 10 000 hours, you’ll be damned good too. Or don’t, but don’t equate my work to a blessing bestowed on me.

    • Julie Sperling February 5, 2018 at 9:57 pm #

      Oh I totally cringed when I read those other examples. You’re exactly right! Love your work, by the way. Very happy to have stumbled upon you thanks to the wonderful world of Instagram :-)

  7. Kim February 4, 2018 at 11:43 pm #

    AND…observe and take in all kinds of art.

  8. Helen Miles Mosaics February 7, 2018 at 6:26 am #

    As thought provoking and straight to the heart as all your other posts. Way to go, girl! Sounds like you have made a good decision and your writing radiates a clear, certain way forward full, as you say, of trip-ups and frustrations but bursting with the thrill of exploration and creative brilliance too.

    • Julie Sperling February 7, 2018 at 8:20 pm #

      Thanks Helen! Was hesitant to post it, but in the end I’m glad I did. Can’t wait to keep exploring!

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