The inner critic is something we are all familiar with. That little voice in our head that sows seeds of doubt that begin to question our creativity.
I’ve been working on a series of watercolors that I recently started to have doubts about. My inner critic started saying things like, “These colors are too basic” or “The colors aren’t sophisticated enough.” It wasn’t enough to make me stop working, but those seeds of doubt were there.
However, after seeing the Hilma af Klint’s show at the Guggenheim, I had an “a-ha” moment – we were using a very similar palette! I realized that the little voice had gained traction in my head and it was time to turn away from it and embrace the decisions I was making in my work.
It’s so easy for that inner critic to creep into the studio. Sometimes it’s helpful – it pushes us to ask questions, but it can also slowly take over and drown out our positive sense of self.
Do you struggle with an inner critic? It’s something we all experience from time to time. I invite you to share your experience in the comments below and how you have managed to turned it around.
Responses to “The Pernicious Inner Critic”
Alice Larsen
I have thought about this incidence since before going to Pepperwood. I hope you will read it & give me some comments (sorry it’s a little long & probably I’ve repeated the same thoughts over & over). I have been thinking a lot about Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work & can see how it has helped me understand myself better. I have so many old emotional beliefs that need to be purged. Here is what I wrote.
Pepperwood was a tremendous experience on April the 27th -28th! It was such a joyous place to paint some years ago & it continues to be that for me now. Rolling hills, cows mooing, distant mountains softly fading into lighter & lighter shades of mauve & purple and full of trees, magnificent oaks with dark, elegantly twisted branches, birdies chirping, hills waving their gently blown grasses in colors of light and iridescence and all of the other beauties too numerous to list.
We even saw many spiders, moths & bugs galore. The Pepperwood educational stewards got very excited when they saw these tiny members of the Mother’s community in our bags or on easels—they took photos & told us whether these wee ones were indigenous or not, their names, the reasons for their coloring etc.—they were happy to communicate in any way possible. I bought a year’s membership so I can attend other workshops at Pepperwood & go to the events coming up.
I feel so much more ready to paint, to work on the 4 little paintings I started. I also took some lovely photos of this miraculous place.
Just before I left to attend the workshop on Sat., I had some old, rusty feelings of terror & fear— autonomic feelings crowded me—I felt dread, feelings of inadequacy, and remembering how I had let myself get used up in the past, living like a listening stick or an unmoving post stuck in the ground. I developed a giveaway personality that gave to everyone but me. I didn’t think I deserved more. I thought up some incredible worries, fantasies, fears & had ugly trepidation about the things that could go wrong at Pepperwood; I was tied into past worries that have no bearing on who I am now & yet, somehow they did, because they were still a quiet, unrecognized part of me.
That day, I carried forward old unwanted, unneeded doubts about myself. They raced up, making me wonder whether I could go to the art workshop. Before that last hour I was way excited, had packed my art supplies & overnight items and then these negative thoughts came rushing in at the very last minute. This morbid feeling is parallel to my fears of driving long distances. Where do these fearful, self-deprecating thoughts come from? Why am I role-playing a protective script that I think I will need if certain needy people come to the workshop & find me? These people were only projections in my mind—why was I building a case for them instead of thinking about how I would fill my canvases?
It took me the next half hour to erase & cleanse myself of these fearful worries. My anticipation of Pepperwood’s beauty was pretty heavy duty— I had been anxiously & happily waiting for several weeks & could hardly wait to go! I had felt that I needed to give myself more self-care & so I signed up to attend. This was the perfect opportunity! Instead, I almost sabotaged myself into not going. Noxious thoughts crept in, barged in, pushing aside my joyful anticipation. These autonomic nervous thoughts & feelings were interfering with my trip to paint at Pepperwood! I was letting my past experiences shape my now presence. I have enough projects in the present moment without dragging in my past failures & berating myself. I can’t let my ancient injurious concepts cramp my new dreams, goals & aspirations, my quest for fun, beauty, colors & great animals to observe.
In the past I felt unworthy, afraid of being used & taken for granted. What a sham & what a shame to still feel that garbage from so many years ago! So, when it dawned on me what I was doing to myself, I became very conscious & aware (thanks to Dr. Joe Dispenza’s books). My old limiting thoughts & feelings wanted me to constrict & crucify my artistic self to its old belief system instead of embracing what could be, a much needed expansion of my creative potential.
Right then I emptied the old me & finally realized a new awareness of who I really could be. I am the first one to talk about liberty, freedom, living outside of the box—now I got the chance to see it in myself & make some much needed changes with my new awareness. I gathered up my things & practically ran to the car! I felt more liberated than I have in a long, long time & had a terrific weekend! My art website address is artfromalice.com
Garland Arnaud
As always you hit the Nail on the Head when it comes to one’s Artistic Soul, being stopped by one’s self thinking we’re not good enough with any one Piece…one maybe working on. Thanks for sharing!
Michele Theberge
Thanks for your kind words, Garland!
Bonnie Neumann
Very timely to see your post today. Thank you for sharing this. I have been working hard lately to silence the inappropriate inner critic while still looking at my work in a critical way, if you know what I mean.
All best,
Bonnie
Michele Theberge
I’m so glad it resonated with you, Bonnie. Thanks for reading!
Chuck Jones
Michele –
Thanks so much for your periodic emailed commentaries. They leave me feeling less alone in my studio.
In your most recent offering, your description of the ‘critic’s’ invocation of self-criticism (condemnation?) regarding your color selection really surprised me. Not that self-contempt is foreign (I’m an old clinical psychologist who is now painting full time, so I have much to say about the critic, if you’re interested, but, initially, I’d rather talk about the little sense of surprised puzzlement I felt when listening to your recording). I’ll try to explain:
For one thing, probably not surprisingly, I can instantly recognize your work. (I even saw someone recently do a similar thing, but I could tell it wasn’t you). Plus, I like your work. That’s not so much a judgment as a simple reflexive response. I find it comfortingly rhythmical. Like calm breathing. Simple, direct, unencumbered. Maybe the recognizable patterns create some of that response – you know, familiar theme with variations.
What you do is nothing like what I do, but I like your doing it. That is, if I tried to paint what you do, I’d find the results to be aversive. The work would be …. duplicitous; that is, I’d be able to tell it wasn’t genuine or spontaneous or mine. It would seem artificial and clunky. Your work – and whatever fundamental underlying pattern of personal experience informs it – is all identifiably yours.
Lately (in response to the useless dismissals issuing from my version of that critical voice you described), I’ve been thinking a lot about exactly those personal features of what we do – or strive to do. (And how we can go astray). As far as I can tell, our truly-honed, self-resonant creating operates in a fashion akin to signing our name. Our signature is an idiosyncratically-informed, yet deeply naturally, spontaneously-occurring version of our self-expression.
I think there is a profound analogy, here to our art. As with training in and practicing painting technique, I, long ago, learned the alphabet and then, for years, practiced penmanship in my public school, hating the artifice of it all while submitting to the (often brutally-enforced) requisite discipline. Despite all that, my signature – somewhat triumphantly achieved – is currently utterly illegible. But it always occurs in a form I can recognize. It’s a personal declaration. It’s mine. And, if someone copies it, I can tell.
Circling back to my point about surprise at the incursion of your ‘Critic’ (not surprised it arises; simply the degree it universally unleashes its inevitably misplaced message): The patterns/shapes you paint are yours. (Like the ones I generate are mine). And to me, as the viewer, the colors you chose in that series are simply the colors you chose. Your selection is not intrinsic to some measurement of you as an artist. It’s just the color you laid down at that moment, moved by whatever moved you. Your color for each individual piece.
After all, do we all have to internalize Joseph Albers’ color theory to do our work? Seems to me it’s a bit like signing our name at an intersection with time where we feel exuberant vs. discouraged. A difference is likely; both emotional states offering (coloring, if you will) variations on an expression of our individuality.
As a counterpoint to the ubiquitous ‘inner critic,’ isn’t it interesting how little we humans talk about the ‘inner nurturing, praising, encouraging, self-advocating voice?’ Generally, it seems personal dismissal comes easier than warmth toward our efforts; from within and, certainly, from without.
To end this, I’d like to invoke Georgia O’Keeffe and Donald Winnicott. Like placing purple next to yellow. O’Keeffe once said, “I have already settled it for myself, so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.” I very much like that sentiment; the prospect of such an internally achieved equanimity, immune to critical distraction, whatever the valence. Winnicott, for his part, once spoke of appreciating ‘the spontaneous gesture.” He was employing the idea of gesture from a psychological perspective, meaning: Allowing ourselves to be appreciative of the potential warm intention behind an interpersonal overture, rather irrespective of the delivery.
My point: What if our art – our artistic efforts – were received as spontaneous gestures; offered from ourselves to ourselves, to others who might be interested (like your emails), or even just to the “Universe?” A gesture; an offering in the form of a captured moment of crystalized intention striving to be registered. Gregory Bateson once defined Sacrament (a term, in my mind, subsuming artistic gestures) as: “The outward manifestation of an inner grace.”
What if we could dispense, for a bit at least, with the competitions and the critical acclaim or derision, and just be free to enjoy what emerges? Colors, lines, patterns …. whatever seems to be moving us at the moment; all informed by the same personal wherewithal that generates our unique signature. What if all could just appreciate that. Toward our own work, as well ,….maybe especially.
The ‘Critic’ function is incapable of comprehending that vantage point; that sentiment of honoring with a touch of awe. Our ‘Critic’ originated when we were toddlers. It has a toddler-like black-and-white, absolutistic view of us, skewed toward dogmatically noticing whatever it deems to be our failures, having absorbed the sum total of every moment of hurtful harshness we ever experienced. It’s not interested in the intentions of our artistic gestures. So, it cannot, and never will, assist with our achieving Georgia’s state of mind. It’s obsolete, like a word-processing program from 1982. And it doesn’t know how to play.
So, perhaps we can just nod in appreciation of its efforts to protect us and suggest it go take a nap. We have better things to do with our time and imagination. We have discoveries to make. And work to create. And peace to savor.
Thanks for your commentaries.
Chuck
Michele Theberge
Wonderful thoughts, Chuck! Sorry I didn’t see this comment before. I hope you’ll see my response even though SO TARDY! I can see you having a blog yourself.
Jeanne Lorenz
Michele
You are right, There is a difference between self reflection in the process of painting and the unwanted negative chatter our unfocused minds create. I love the way you connect to the color in Af Kimpt’s work. The mindful artist reminds me to dig into a meditative practice in my work. Thanks for the inspiration, Jeanne
Michele Theberge
Thanks for your kind words, Jeanne!
Kathleen Sievers
I have been an artist for nearly 65 years. For the first time ever, I am experiencing strong inner voices that shame me for even trying to do the work that I do (traditional Byzantine icons). Thanks for your comments about keeping the heart open. Having the heart of a beginner keeps me grounded.
Michele Theberge
Hi Kathleen, Thank you for sharing your story. I’m sorry that the negative voices are strong at this moment – I know that can be hard. As long as you are doing what feels right to you, you can’t go wrong. Your art matters because it comes from YOU!