It’s not uncommon that people at the end of a calendar year draft an inventory of what they have done with those 365 past days. Now that we’ve reached that period of the year when people and business alike are making up their balances, I’m looking back with mixed feelings.
Although the past year has been artistically a very productive one, it leaves me with a intellectual, emotional, and inspirational burn out. I have an inkling that one of the causes may be that I’m kind of overwhelmed by some of the practical aspects of being an artist: the need to promote and sell your work. I must admit that this exceptional spike of creativity hasn’t gone unnoticed in some curational circles, and now I´m getting inundated by invitations to participate at symposiums and expositions. I don’t like to talk about my work and on most opening receptions I’m just standing quietly in a corner with a drink instead of rubbing shoulders with the shakers and movers in the artistic establishment.
Another factor is that I have the feeling that I set out for a project that I estimated would keep me busy for the remainder of my life, and now seem to experience that this vision has reached the exhaustion level of my creative capacities. In line with what accountants do when they draft a balance, I resumed my project in a catalog. I do this already a couple of years. The only difference with other years is that this year I can’t find nothing that I can add or improve to it. Apart from the fourth part of my literary project that is ailing on the intensive care station since about four years: there is an outline, but I got stuck at about 30 % of completion, hampered by blanks and writers block.
Objectively I should be happy that I start to receive some recognition, but instead I feel like some cheat and imposer who added nothing new to the reservoir of human civilization. Maybe it’s time that I take my own advice about “How not to get Depressed as an Artist”.