Can we keep the ego out of our art?
Attuning to the guidance of the heart and subtle body sensations
We know we can’t annihilate the ego, but I’ve wondered - is it possible to keep the ego out of our art?
Fair dues to the ego itself, it’s relentlessly creative:
Catastrophising, aggrandising self-image, then cutting it down, generating elaborate stories and imagined conversations, envisioning the one amazing thing we could do next that would blow everyone away…
But the ego’s creativity is dramatic and other-oriented.
People will love this / people will hate this.
It’s not creativity from an impulse of the heart, it’s creativity of an over-active mind.
A few days ago I was shaping clay into a female form candlestick holder while listening to a Thom Knowles podcast where he spoke of being in frictionless flow.
Wonderfully, that day I was experiencing frictionless flow myself, which is rare.
He spoke of how Michelangelo would gaze at a huge block of marble for hours in complete stillness, before suddenly attacking it with his hammer, chipping away to ‘liberate the captive inside’, while 10lbs slices of marble flew to the ground.
Although this was far from the nature of my own process (can you imagine attacking a slab of clay to liberate a nude? Tempting to give it a go tbh), smooshing little clay breasts onto a ten centimetre torso with my fingers; I delighted at the synchronicity of sculpting a nude while listening to a story about this famous sculptor of nudes.
It felt magically affirming, and yet, I was careful not to meaning-make the shit out of it, because my ego loves to highjack that kinda thing, ‘This must mean I’m soooo in alignment…’
A previous version of me would have pinned several images to a dedicated moodboard titled ‘candlestick inspo’ or something, probably bringing more overwhelm than inspiration, as I try to emulate something I considered ah-mazing.
Not this time.
I didn’t consult the internet.
Instead, I started from the image in my head that had kept me awake the night before. Thighs and big, round bottom first.
It was liberating, not because I thought I was creating something original but because it originated from a vision and manifested from not having a clue if it would end up a misshapen lump of clay with cute boobies, but also, not caring much because it felt like play.
Over three days, I worked away on it, feeling grateful that I get to play this way.
Gratitude.
Oh, the spiritual tropes that bore us silly about gratitude.
But looking back on those three days, I felt it so deeply, without trying, which is obviously the point and yet we’re told we should feel it, if we want anything good to happen in our lives.
There’s a whole rant-y post I could write about this, but I’ll spare you for now.
Perhaps because I was in a state of play, I was better able to notice my ego creep in.
It was telling me to delay finishing the piece until the next day, when the pottery stamp I’d ordered from Etsy was due to arrive, so I could mark it and make it feel more ‘important’.
But my ego loves to get me to wait. And I know it, which is why I carried on.
The stamp arrived the day after I’d finished making it, too late to mark the underside because the clay wasn’t soft enough for the impression.
It felt perfect that I didn’t wait.
While the ego will never vanish when we make our art, and it’s not meant to, I do believe we’re here to cultivate a deep intimacy with our small self and self-aggrandising voices, so we recognise when the ego tries to highjack our process.
This way we can attune to the subtle body sensations (I usually feel it in my throat) that offer us guidance in the micro moments that comprise the entire creative process,
‘No, not this, something else…’ or ‘Yes, yes, this…’
The mind can headfuck even the tiniest creative decision, it can convince us why it ‘makes sense’ and send us spinning into story.
The ego has an agenda.
But the body doesn’t lie.
You might be thinking, so what if we create from the ego, what’s the big deal?
It’s only a big deal if you’re here to be a truer, braver version of yourself, to experience the priceless sensation of your heart guiding the process, where you get to play with curiosity steeped in gratitude.
It’s cute that the ego wants us to be the next big thing.
It was cute that the ego wanted me to wait for my stamp to arrive.
But I’m here to drop into the innocence and curiosity of creativity, the beginner’s mind, the place in me that makes moves without trying to make it important.
I’m here to re-establish a more innocent process when it comes to making art.
Less results-driven strategising, more exploration of how my hands can do the work of my heart.
I don’t want to indulge elaborate stories about how AHMAZING a thing could be, nor indulge destructive self-talk about how shit my work is and why am I even bothering?
I don’t want the wild, dysregulated fluctuations of a fickle phenomenon that resides somewhere within me and decides to love bomb me one moment and diminish me the next, to be driving my creative process.
I want to die a fulfilled artist who was brave and true to her heart. 🤍
GAH!!!!!!!!!! I feel this on every level. The ego can make us so dizzy sometimes.
Funny because I am working on a draft that I keep picking up/putting down on repeat. It's on ego and I was inspired to write it after this question from my 11-year-old daughter, "Mom, what's an ego?" Oh, sweet girl, where do I start........
Ah, yes, the ego often tries to ‘assist’ me when I’m engaged in pottery or discussing it. Just yesterday, a friend remarked on some of my mugs, expressing her admiration for them. She then went on to describe, quite in detail, what she’s currently looking for. Some of her preferences aligned with my espresso mugs, others not.
My initial thought (ego) was, “Oh, of course, I could craft that for her.” Fortunately, my next thought was far more grounded: “But I don’t want to create for others; I want to create for myself.” So luckily, I didn't offer her to create some mugs for her but I told her to wait until I had a small collection and she could then see if she would like some of them.
When I resumed pottery, I made a vow to myself: I would only create for my own joy and fulfilment. If others happened to appreciate what I made, that would simply be a wonderful bonus. I try to stick to this vow, but I know that from time to time ego will sneek in and try to play its role.