Brush and Sword

The newsletter by Sameer Sharma

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Issue #7

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Vulnerability-An Artist's Real Talent

Your defenses trap your true strength, safety and creativity.

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The Ultimatum

“If you want to paint me, then you’ll have to take off your armor,” the figure above chided back to me through the canvas. I felt threatened, exposed and raw with every mark I made. Each brush stroke seemed to verify my fears:

“You can’t do this!”

“This is beyond your ability!”

“This sucks!”

“You suck!”

“How dare you call yourself an artist!”

The beginning stages of a painting are always messy, chaotic and ugly. Like a prospector mining for gold, I sift through a sea of mistakes to find a few good marks to build on. If I listen to those negative voices, then this stage becomes a purgatory that I never escape. The way to silence those voices is to lay down my defenses, expose myself to my fears, and be vulnerable. When I’m vulnerable, I can reach for something through the fear. That “something” always reaches back.

Working on the above painting was a practice in vulnerability. This is an essential trait for anyone who wants to create. Without vulnerability, there is no feeling. Without feeling, there is no art. Vulnerability is the catalyst in the alchemical process of making art. It is often seen as weakness. But it is a superpower. Vulnerability requires more courage and strength than being defensive. Defensiveness is fear disguised as strength.

I struggle the most when I am unwilling to be vulnerable and take off my armor. My defenses are a straight jacket that constrict my creativity. When I can expose myself and accept them, they transform. I still struggle with perfectionism, imposter syndrome, and not feeling good enough. This painting challenged me to face these internal demons by giving me an ultimatum-
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Option 1- Be vulnerable, risk screwing up, face criticism, and discover what is possible.

Option 2- Play it safe, take no risks, and stay in your comfort zone.

Thankfully, I chose the first option. Option 2 would have been the greater risk.

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The Real Talent

When an artist’s work moves you, the first word that comes to mind is, “talent”. “Wow, you’re so talented!” I hear this a lot. People assume that artists are born with some God-given talent that oozes from their pores and makes arts. If talent is such a thing, then it must be allowed to come forth through the artist. The only way to do this is to be vulnerable. It's not a lack of talent, but a lack of vulnerability that keeps us from creating. Our defenses hide our gifts from the world. Vulnerability reveals them. To create is to be vulnerable. This is the real talent.

Vulnerability is a defining trait of any creative person. The artist exposes her soft underbelly to give life to her art. That is the risk the artist must take. It is what makes an artist. Talent will wither and die behind a fortress of defenses. That’s the irony of defenses- they kill what they try to protect. Talent is a seed that must be nurtured. This can only happen when exposed to the elements of failure, rejection, and loss. Metal is purified and honed under intense heat, and the pounding of the blacksmith’s hammer. When I am open and vulnerable to the creative process, my art becomes the blacksmith. I am what is forged and strengthened. The artwork is a record of it.

I think my real talent is my ability to withstand this process. Vulnerability actually makes this otherwise grueling process easier; even enjoyable. When I am unable to be open and own my mistakes, I suffer. When I can lay down my armor and let the creative process do its work, vulnerability yields authentic self- expression.

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Perfectly Imperfect

The people I admire the most are not the most talented, but the most authentic. I think authenticity and vulnerability are synonymous. I’ve met people who use their talent as a shield to protect them from criticism and self doubt. The product of their talents is less appealing, more clinical and lifeless.

Likewise, I know artists with less talent who completely expose themselves, and even laugh at their own shortcomings. I’m more attracted to their work because it isn’t technically perfect, polished and gallery-worthy. But it is emotionally accessible, authentic and transparent. It feels real, organic and relatable. I think any good artist uses his or her technical skill and talent as a tool to create connection; not separation. It’s our flaws, scars, and quirks that connect us. The gateway to that connection is vulnerability.

This perfect imperfection of vulnerability is embodied in the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is mended and the crack is embellished with gold. The pottery’s fragility is what allows it to break. The breaking is what creates the art. If the cup was safe in the cupboard, it would never have the chance to break and be transformed. Being vulnerable is being willing to be broken so that you can be transformed into someone greater than the one you were protecting. To be destroyed by ever greater things is to be transformed by them. Vulnerability is the catalyst to this magical process.

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Permission To Screw Up

“Make your mistakes with confidence,” I say to my students on their first day in my drawing class. This usually elicits a smile and a laugh. They understand, but they don’t heed my advice at first. It usually takes the class a few weeks before they realize that making mistakes is essential to making art. No matter how many times I say it, a student never gets it until they have exhausted themselves by resisting mistakes. The more they try to draw the perfect mark, the worse it looks. Pencil tips break under the death grip of perfectionism. Erasers become a lifeline. Clenched jaws, sweaty brows, hunched backs and cramped hands abound.

It’s not until they finally let go of perfectionism that students actually start making good drawings. What’s more, they have more fun. Once they let go, became vulnerable, and make mistakes, they make progress. The students who struggle the most are the ones who never give themselves permission to screw up.

Creating an environment where students feel safe to come out of there defensive shells is one of my main roles as a teacher. This is more important than any technical skills I teach. Without vulnerability, technical skills are just tools that never get utilized out of fear. To make art, these technical skills must be used in service of the heart. Vulnerability allows the heart to speak its truth. When you give yourself permission to make mistakes, you gift yourself permission to make art.

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If We Are All Just Stardust

Our fear of vlunerability shrouds our greatness. The people I admire the most are the ones who have failed the most. Their outer vulnerability is a reflection of their inner strength. I am most vulnerable when I’m standing in front of a blank canvas at the start of a new painting. This constant exposure is essential for anyone who wants to create .

Painting acts as a prism that refracts my vulnerability into its components- fear, doubt, anxiety, tension, contraction, self-judgement. How well I accept these parts determines how well I paint. My studio is my infirmary where vulnerability takes off its armor and allows these parts to heal. The healing comes from the doing- putting paint to canvas. There is nothing to fix; only accept.

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I’ve realized that I’m at my strongest, most creative and expansive self when I am vulnerable. Vulnerability gives me real safety. It’s safety from my small, scared self that needs to hide and defend. In this state, I remember the expression, “We are all stardust.” The physicist and mathematician, Lawrence Krauss said it best…

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If we are stardust, then what are we protecting that won’t turn back into stardust? What are we so afraid of? These questions help me see the futility of my defenses and the utility of my vulnerability. It is a state of “unselfing” where my defenses drop because the very thing I’m defending isn’t even real. The identity of me, my story, and all the baggage that comes with it are only thoughts inside this body made from stardust.

For whatever time this collection of stardust called, ‘me’ has remaining, I choose to practice being vulnerable. Vulnerability allows me to wield my technical skills as an artist in service to the heart. If I’m not vulnerable, then my fears have won. My wall of defenses trap my creativity. And whatever 'talent" I may have will in time, atrophy and die.

Practicing vulnerability has shown me that the Universe conspires to heal; not harm. Being vulnerable has never caused me harm. Being defensive, armored, and shout-down always has. In fact, what I feared became the doorway through which I found my strength. Whatever I’m afraid of can’t hurt me. But the fear of it can. Vulnerability is the gateway to connection and creativity. It is the true strength, protection and safety that we are all seeking.
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Best,

Sameer