The flutter in my chest.
During art school, I often felt a tug of sorrow in my heart because I knew the experience would come to an end. I wanted to get everything I could out of that time. I felt so inspired by the things that I saw that I walked around with a flutter in my chest. There was so much beauty and possibility and it all felt so fleeting.
I will never forget the sight of ink soaked rags hung in the window of the printmaking studio on the University of Washington campus. It was a gorgeous Spring day, the sun shining through the rainbow of colors, through an old window in an exquisitely built, historic brick building. This arresting vision represented the process of creating beautiful things, creations ranging in depth from heartfelt personal musings on the state of the world to geometric designs simply created to be visually intriguing. That was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen.
I felt so at home amongst other eager artists and inspired creations all around. I felt a desperation to be excellent and to come away from that time with a purpose and sure fire plan.
I also felt heart broken. Critiques are not for the frail of heart and I to this day have a lasting sense of disappointment in myself for not being at a place in my life where I was able to sacrifice enough, to put in the extra time and devotion to my work that the teachers demanded. I had a good amount of positive feedback, which I soaked right up. However the tougher critiques, designed in theory to help you grow, felt brutal.
I am saddened by this part of the art world that seems to try to get the most potential out of an artist by way of first breaking our hearts, and causing us to question our strength and inherent talent. On the other hand, to rise to the top, I understand this to be a necessary evil, as the professional art world - including dance, theater, music, etc. are in fact cutthroat and you have to dig deep to produce outstanding work.
I am sensitive, this is true. I believe that my sensitivity is a strength and lends to my artistic abilities. I feel things in my own unique way and have my specific view of the world, as do we all. I take in a lot, feel a lot, worry too much perhaps. This quality can make sharing art with others challenging, when it manifests as caring too much about what people think.
I have come to realize that although the critiques of our creations (whatever that looks like for you) feel intensely personal, we have a choice in how to interact with any information provided. I have learned to carefully curate the opinions I choose to take in and which to respectfully leave out. I have gotten quite a bit better, although I am not yet absolute in this practice, at not leaving room for those opinions that do not serve me, to have power over my work.
Thus, here we are, me sharing my work with you. It's been a long time coming. I have had lots of practice at listening to my own voice and maybe one or two carefully chosen others. I feel proud of what I am offering here and comfortable with the authenticity of it all. Take it or leave it, I am happy with my choices, what you see here is me.
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Thea Finnel
