Fall in Love with the Process

There are truths we know intuitively or been told once or twice. They may come to us as proverbs or warnings from elders. They are foundational to how we navigate this world. They help us make decisions and eventually lead us to where we’re going. As an artist I depend on these maxims a lot. I’m constantly navigating uncharted territory. My path is unique to me as many artists end up discovering. There are those we aspire to be like and those who’s careers reveal to us exactly what it is we want–yet the paths are never the same. One thing that remains true is “fall in love with the process.”

I’ve heard this many times in my life, but never understood it until now. The process of creation was always frustrating to me. I had a vision in mind and whether the medium was paint, clay, or pencil, it never came out exactly as I envisioned. It was always wonky, misshapen, wrong color, awkward composition. There was always something off…until now. I couldn’t put on my finger on it before because I lacked the discernment one gains from experience. I’ve always had discriminating taste, but couldn’t always explain why something looked better to me than something else.

Pottery was the most humbling of all the art forms I’ve tried. It took me over a year to get the hang of the wheel. I understood the idea of centering. It made completely sense when my teachers explained it. The clay had to be centered in order to make something even and symmetrical. In order to move up the clay evenly from the wheel head, it had to centered. I saw this demoed multiple times. Yet, it took me a while. I was told it’s centered when it stops wobbling. Once again, I understood, but didn’t know how to get there. I finally had enough experience with the wheel to feel when it was wobbly. If I was careful with the amount of pressure I applied to either side, I could move my piece back to center. I could pull my walls up evenly and create the shapes I wanted. I needed the experience to know the difference. This changed the way I looked at myself because I was no longer a beginner.

The discernment comes from the experience. It comes from falling in love with the process. It allowed me to stay consistent. To persevere when the clay stayed at the bottom and barely rose an inch. To try again and again, until it became muscle memory. The process is more important than the final product. The steps towards the final goal are always more important than the goal itself. I always thought the goal was more important. After all, isn’t it what we want? However, the growth along the way is what matters. It’s what sustains after the goal is achieved. As an artist, loving the process is what sustains us after the creation. It’s what allows us to keep creating. Fall in love with the process of creating. Learn to do hard skills. Take as much time as you need and make as many mistakes as possible. The goal is to grow through the process and become better, stronger. As much as we want perfection, it’s not a healthy goal or desire. Frankly it’s overrated because it’s never enough. Excellence however, is a worthy pursuit, but that’s another essay.