Before you can decide whether your process works, have you considered what you want from the art you’re making?
Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Table Of Contents
An individual’s goals for their art vary from person to person.
One of my friends paints strictly for his own enjoyment.
Another person I know blows glass for profit. While making money, she’s also creating beautiful pieces.
Another friend is writing a book just to write a book. His purpose is to explain his perspective on life, whether anybody buys it or not.
What would tell you that your process is working? That’s worth asking before you start adjusting how you work. Otherwise, you could spend a lot of time fixing something without knowing what you’re trying to improve.
When The Goal Affects The Work
I met a great guitar player last night. He is also a gifted songwriter. What’s interesting is that when we talked about monetization, his experience has been that his songwriting goes south when writing for money. He doesn’t know why. His best work is done when he’s not thinking about making cash flow. And I found that very interesting.
His experience raises a question: can pursuing a goal interfere with the process that makes the work possible? Another artist might find that a paid assignment gives the work direction.
You may never have considered how your goal affects the way you work. A schedule might help you finish something you would otherwise keep revisiting. A scheduled approach may not be part of your tool kit. But whatever method you use, examining the process may help you understand what to keep.
What Are Those Hours Accomplishing?
We learn early that effort can produce results. As kids, we studied for a test and saw our grades improve. Practicing an instrument helped us play something we couldn’t play before.
What begins as a useful observation slowly becomes a broader assumption about how the world works. If we keep putting in the time, what makes us think those hours are helping?
You can follow the same routine for years without asking what you’re getting from it. If you take pride in showing up every day, it can be hard to admit you’re unsure whether those habits are helping.
The Imperial Appointment
For centuries in imperial China, a government career could begin with years of studying the Confucian classics. Candidates had to pass successive levels of examinations, and their education required resources many families could not afford. Only a small percentage passed, and many retook the exams.
Even passing did not always mean a government appointment. Some degree-holders became teachers or took leadership roles in their communities. The education had uses beyond the position a candidate might have been pursuing.
What does that tell us about evaluating a process? Someone could learn a great deal and still fall short of the result they wanted. We would need to separate what their preparation developed from what the examination system awarded.
The same thing can happen when an artist submits work for an exhibition or publication. An acceptance answers one question. It cannot tell them everything about how their work has developed. A rejection leaves that question open, too.
Quality Does Not Assume Impact
We put a lot into making the work good, and it’s easy to expect someone will notice. But how are people going to find it? If we want an audience, we need to pay attention to that question.
You can spend another week revising a story, but that won’t necessarily put it in front of another reader. Where you share it matters, and so does whether the people who encounter it are interested in what you’re making.
Part of examining our process is asking whether the setting we’re working in offers a chance to accomplish what we want.
The Japanese Ronin
A samurai in Japan earned his living by serving a lord. If he lost that service, he could become a ronin—a samurai without a master. He still had his training, but he could no longer count on the income that came with his position.
When Japan entered a long period of relative peace under Tokugawa rule, demand for warriors fell. Many ronin looked for work. Some turned to farming, and others became monks. Their circumstances varied; some also helped develop farmland and rural communities.
How much would more training have helped someone whose position was gone? He might become more skilled, but he still needed somewhere to use that artistry.
Diversity
Another amazing songwriter I know, also a great musician, channeled his music into creating a relatively successful video channel. What does that tell you? You still have to keep creating, but you can change the venue, change the genre.
He creates microdramas, writes music for them, and works existing musical ideas into the stories. The channel also gives him a place to perform. His music is still part of what he does, but now he’s using it to help tell stories on screen.
Keep the Process or Change It?
Some progress takes years to become clear. If you aren’t seeing results yet, that alone doesn’t tell you whether you need to change how you work.
My friend who paints for enjoyment can ask whether he still enjoys painting. The glass artist has sales to consider. For the writer, seeing his perspective take shape on the page may give him a reason to continue, even before the book is finished.
What would give you a reason to keep your process? And what have you noticed that makes you question it? You may have noticed something worth adjusting, or you may need more time to judge.
How do you know your creative process is working for you?
Continue The Journey
Your time matters, and we are grateful you spent some of it here.
Leave a comment and tell us how you know your creative process is working for you.
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