This week, I’ve dived into a much personal aspect for this “MISUSE” reflection. Speaking mostly farther from my “observer” tone. This writing, is a personal letter to myself. Not just of the past, but a reminder for now, and for the future.
An undoubtedly overconfident version of my past self, began studying Fashion Design at a prestigious, private Fashion school in Athens a few years back. At the prime age of 18, I was ahead of my class due to a great gamma of Fashion knowledge and history I had obtained from books, movies, the internet, and meeting in real-life with contemporary and famous designers (who happened to be from the same island as me, what a lucky duck). In general, I had (might still have) a deep understanding of the fashion world. Or at least I thought so. My fashion history teacher adored me, as I was very interested and very knowledgable on each subject. My design teacher loved my provocative –but not too provocative- nature with style. My pattern design teacher loved how tedious I was with every measurement. And then, one rainy day, after a severe panic attack, I decided to quit Fashion school. Not because I didn’t have a passion for the art, but life was becoming quite overwhelming to juggle it all in two hands. Anxiety, panic attack syndrome, pseudodysphagia, hyperventilation syndrome, antisocial behaviour, eczema and then, imposter syndrome. Who the fuck am I, to study fashion, to believe that I am great enough to become a legend in the fashion industry? I don’t have the resources to create the brand of my dreams! I can’t afford to not work and focus only on this passion! People are dying in the streets of hunger, and I’m here making frocks?!
My teachers were saddened to see me go, most said I would regret my decision, and they were in some-part right. But, after fashion school, I decided I needed to be able and focus and merge all of my artistic outlets into one. I wondered how exactly could I do that? Oh, I know! “To the cinema!”
Image and quote from “Cinema Paradiso”, 1990 dir. Giuseppe Tornatore
Then, began a new chapter in my life. I decided to change “careers” and study digital film production. At least, I felt better than before. The overconfident young adult from before, ended up in a class of multiple students, with various ages and backgrounds. Here, I was no lead. In fact, I felt overshadowed. I felt, that my very selfish ways and ethics of working up until now, could never work here. Because cinema taught me, it takes a lot of fucking people to make a movie. Even though I had done my “homework” by watching every legendary movie I could, even though I studied genres, even though I wrote great ideas, whenever someone else took the stand to present their own piece of mind, I would become internally enraged. For some reason, there was a very aggressive approach coming from within me, that wanted to surpass their own intellect. I grew very competitive, to the point where even teachers couldn’t stand my resistant and rebellious nature. They were quite amused often, but also weren’t fans of my purposely contradictory opinions. Yet, I was still selected as president of the class, because I was the only one who could “bite” the head administration for lack of organisation within the institution, and held no fear of consequence. I was, all in all, becoming a, epic, cinephilic prick.
Besides being a prick, I had classmates who agreed with my harsh opinions and suddenly I felt I belonged. When the time came for me to create more serious short-films, to present scripts with actual potential, to create superbly audacious pitches, I felt confident again. But then, something lingered once more. It didn’t have to linger long. The imposter syndrome didn’t even knock on the door, it had a key this time; Who the fuck am I, to study film production, to believe that I am great enough to become a legend in the film industry? I don’t have the resources to fund a short-film! I can’t afford to not work and focus only on this passion! People are dying in the streets of hunger, and I’m here making movies?!
Last year, being able to lean onto a part-time job, provided great access to my creative self’s inner world, and thus I begun my own concept for an upcoming exhibition. I knew this would have to be something coming from within my heart, and naturally it did flourish effortlessly. I was consumed every day by countless ideas, and began to adore my artful nature once more. I also knew that this would be a work in progress and shouldn’t “fear” this being something I’ll never finish. So, I set some realistic deadlines, and here I am today, planning away little by little how everything should be laid out in the exhibition; This one painting will go there, the photographer who did that portrait belongs in that category, this imposter syndrome will be next to th… Who the fuck am I, to suddenly think I am great enough to become a legend and make it in the art industry? I don’t have enough resources to host an exhibition! I can’t afford to…
And then, I got tired of hearing it all again.
It’s a melancholic, tiring, and, repetitive tale. Each time, with either great or not so great confidence, or while even trying to muster up enough confidence to just get through the day, this evil yet (somehow) benign voice led me to believe that, I would never be good enough to aspire more than what my societal and economic class has in store for me. While the inner voice could be cruel, in fact, it came from a logical place. It spoke with words that persuaded me to believe that what I love most, is not meant for me. This voice in a sense, was the manipulative and gaslighting “boyfriend” who only held me down, instead of supporting me and letting me move forward, disguised as “care” and “love”. This voice, perhaps didn’t seem cruel at all at the time; This voice came to justify the fear of becoming something that would expand my limits, that would put me out of my comfort zone, and would allow me to perceive an entirely different world. This voice, much-so, reminded me of my over-protective parents. Constantly guarding and shielding me from the world I was soon to meet, but never to touch. My anxiety would then flood in and reassure that cursed voice, constantly agreeing with everything it said, “Yes, that’s absolutely right, we can’t do that. It’s scary. You possibly won’t be able to make it happen. You will die before seeing yourself succeed! You’re better off where you are, here, safe, trust us”.
At some point, one must realise that constantly keeping the same pattern of a confidence, and then a sudden lack of it, is evidently a loss of trust within one’s self. There is a forever running world, 24/7, waiting for you to not do that thing you want, just so someone else can do it. Yet, that is also a false understanding. Ultimately, we should be able to do as we please, despite it “already” existing, or in fear that it won’t be liked, or that even perhaps someone else will do it at all. I don’t believe that any of the greats ever thought this way. And even if they did, they for sure didn’t allow it to stop them from showing the world what they had to offer.
The take away in my repetitive tale is that no matter the art form I tried, no matter the devotion and nurture I applied to it, no matter to which point I made it up to (either beginning or almost near executing a full-blown idea), my confidence always seemed to plummet at some point. Even though it felt sturdy as a rock before, the downfall of my inner confidence, awoke feelings of making life unbearably miserable, and most of all, warily pointless. I’ve thought that for my next professional endeavour I must follow through with it (whatever it is) all the way, no matter what the final outcome will be. Even if confidence is lost, there must be a mature understanding now that loss of confidence, can surely only be explained as giving into the vox populi. Listening to too many “voices” say how they made it, the studies they’ve done, anything that would just make you feel lesser. And for some idiotic reason, we think of it as that; Lesser. All the while, allowing its (either negative or positive) transfixation with exposure to surpass the actual art itself. The yearning to be an artist essentially, without really wanting to work for the art. Though otherwise, and in my circumstance meaning, yes I don’t feel so confident in promoting my artwork, but I do feel confident when I make it. I love making the art, but not being the artist of it!
Is it so, that perhaps, I just need an agent/social media manager after-all? Someone to do the dirty work, while I sit back and create away, without a care in the world? Because with loss of promotional “confidence”, I can see how people who curate and distribute their work, will often times lean into the “cheaper” art forms and ideas. Don’t deny this fact, we’ve all thought of it before.
And so of course, those who have great confidence, artistically and promotionally, and who also have the energy to put into promoting their work, are the very few who are gifted on both sides of the dime. Whichever way the coin lands, they are in luck every time.
I could never promote work my work as if it were bananas, and bananas on sale sometimes too; Just to get them consumed.
I prefer to wait for that someone who’s looking for bananas, and then I could say, “Well, do I have a banana for you!”. It just feels right this way. Not forced. On me. And not on anyone.
I can relate so well to this real tale that you wrote.
I have studied myself Fine Arts and Film Production in the last years and even though I have managed to get to the end of the courses and not quit, I still struggle to get to the end of my ideas, to finish projects, to believe in the artmaking.
This little voice that kept you from going through is so so similar to the one that has bothered me countless times. It is our ego, the comparison, this world that runs so fast that makes you feel you should not take the time to create and to listen to your imagination, it is the suffering we see everyday that makes the idea of drawing a bird that we love something so futile, the guilt "we should do something more useful!! People are suffering!". And at last, the desire for greatness. This is something worth exploring, our desire to be unique, to have our own identity, to bring something new that no one has ever thought of before...
As if greatness, popularity, praise is the point and not the journey. As you said, the point is when you are focused on your creation and arrmaking, where you are in this flow state that ideas keep coming, you are engulfed in whatever you are creating, that you almost forget who you are and who you are "supposed" to be.
Keep creating, I love reading your writtings... it is quite healing.
Quite an 'essay' you put together! High voltage telling us of your wild ride through the Artistic side of Athens, few are aware of—first, the world of high fashion design. It sounds like you had a lot of success and were well on your way to becoming part of that world, but intense feeling of 'What the fuck am I doing?' Struck. Fashion design is well known to be incredibly difficult to succeed in and highly elite.
I was a far-away acquaintance of two people who wanted to make it in the world of Fashion. The woman, Kat, worked for Donna Karin aka DK fashion. Kat was totally into that world in rough and
tumble NYC, but walked away one day and never returned?? The other person was Danny, a Chinese kid from Montana of all places. I've seen his portfolio of dresses he designed, first working out of NYC and then going all in (using his father's $$, in Las Vegas, Nevada.
He came close. His designs were seen on the Paris catwalk, and he was interviewed on TV, but in time, pressure from his father to get out of the 'GAY' world of fashion design was too great, and he returned to Montana to run his father's Chinese restaurant. Pretending his broken dream was no big deal.
You then write about studying filmmaking, Music making, and probably love making in Athens. You put your entire energy and willpower into these pursuits and though you were talented and good at them. That 'Imposter Doubt' that you describe three times kicked in, and you, more or less, walked away.
Now you are painting and drawing and will have an exhibition in Athens in December. This is a smart and good thing to do, ie, when one art form doesn't lead to the success you want and deserve, segue to another art form. I'm certain that many now-famous artist tried their hand at many art forms before landing on the one that was best for them. I see it in your essay, you have always moved to a new territory when the path you were on didn't suit you well enough. It's impressive to read your catalogue of the art forms you have already pursued with no thought of quitting your pursuit of an artistic lifestyle. Like any pursuit in life, it's the journey itself that is just as important as the destination you reach......... M.