I love many, many things about making art, but my favourite thing of all is that no-one gets to tell us what to do.

Can you think of anything else in life where every decision is yours and yours alone? Usually we have to consult family or friends or colleagues about at least parts of our life. Some of us get really good at finding ways to manoeuvre around people and get what we want anyway (lol), but it can be exhausting!

But in our artwork, we get to be completely free. Or do we?

I wrote last week about the role of perfectionism in our art-making, and how we have to overcome it before we can make our own unique art. But there are other blocks that get in our way and mean that we don't always give ourselves the freedom we deserve.

One of the most challenging is fear. 

I suspect it's different for different people, but when fear rears its head for me, it's about being somehow 'too much.' I yearn to make paintings that are less 'beautiful' and more challenging. But I struggle with making art that is, in any way, confronting, because I am not comfortable with confrontation in any aspect of my life. In fact, I spent most of my life subsuming my own needs and desires so that other people wouldn't feel bad about themselves.

This showed up in all sorts of ways. I would keep ideas or thoughts to myself if I thought they might cause friction. I would think about everyone else when making a decision. And I would avoid doing anything that would hurt anyone else's feelings - even if that person deserved to have their feelings hurt! 

But it went further than that - as a child, I learned that my very existence caused conflict. My parents were lovely, but they were very young and I was a challenging baby - one of those who just cries and cries day and night. As I grew into a toddler, I gather I was equally challenging. I don't remember those days of course, but I do know my parents struggled, and I'm sure they argued. A new baby is hard for any relationship, but a new baby who won't stop crying? Nightmare!

But babies are like sponges. They learn from everything that happens. I suspect that like many babies, I learned that my existence caused conflict; I learned that I was inherently a problem.

So as I grew up, I did my best to contort myself into whatever shapes suited other people. Especially if I counted on those people in some way. I think my irrational thought process was "If I show my true self, they will abandon me."

While remnants of this remain, I have done a lot of work on myself, and for the most part, I am different. I set boundaries now, and stick to them. I speak up for what I want. 

I am now working on bringing this new freedom into my art. As I have said before, I am working on making my work less polished, and perhaps less classically "beautiful." But it's interesting how much I still resist what I want. It's interesting how much I have to overcome my people-pleasing tendencies.

I respond most to art that isn't beautiful. I most admire artists who make work that isn't beautiful. I like to surround myself with old, distressed furniture and possessions. Everything points to me making work that doesn't involve traditional ideas of beauty and yet.... and yet, there is this pull to make my art harmonious and "pleasing" even though that is not something I particularly value.

And of course, what's happening for me happens for others too. I help artists to overcome this stuff all the time so I see it first hand. I meet artists who want to paint big, bold abstracts, but who are still making small watercolour paintings of landscapes. Or ceramicists who want to paint but are afraid to begin. Or acrylic painters who want to try oils, but somehow haven't done it yet. Or even worse, people who have filled cupboards with art supplies, but not actually started making anything.

It makes me so sad, to think of all those artists out there, being smaller and less authentic than they could be, just to please some long-ago version of their parents or teachers or siblings or friends. 

But if fear is stopping us, we can't overcome it by just giving ourselves a stern taking to. We really do have to get to the root causes of it - to see why we feel frightened. (Spoiler alert - it's almost always related to childhood). 

Having done that for myself, I now know why I feel such a drive to please. And that allows me to push myself into new territory. I'm practicing showing up in a more authentic way - which means sharing my story in this newsletter, for example, and showing you paintings like this one

I love this painting. I find it exciting. It feels like the me that got squashed into that box all those years ago. But it doesn't feel easy to share and I couldn't have done it back when I was afraid of showing all of my self, back when I was polishing myself up for public consumption.

So my question this week is this: 'is there something you want to make, but haven't?'

If so, it's really worth digging in to yourself to figure out why not. Once you understand where the avoidance comes from, you can start dismantling those beliefs and taking steps towards being the artist you want to be.

I believe that is the most exciting and worthwhile journey of all. Because it's not just for you - it's for all of us, who are out here waiting for more honesty and more authenticity in a world where those are qualities that feel vanishingly rare. 

So how about joining me this week? How about writing a description of the art you would make if you had no fear? What would you do if you didn't have to worry about approval or sales or Instagram likes or galleries? And then you can start looking at why you're not comfortable making that stuff. What's getting in the way?

We don't find the answers overnight, but we don't find them at all unless we start exploring the questions. 

Oh and if you feel up to it, you could do as I did - you could just go and paint something that matches your description. It might not be great  the first time out, but at least it will be honest :)