It’s my eight year anniversary of creating art every single day.
I never missed one. Not holidays. Not vacation. Not sickness.
Some of us can’t say we’ve even showered every day of the year. :)
So how did I get here?
The simple answer is one day at a time. I refer to them as marble moments.
I have a jar of 365 marbles on my desk that I use when speaking or teaching. It represents one piece of art for every day of the year.
A single a marble by itself doesn’t look like much. But what of you grouped seven of them together? Then add seven more? It’s by adding time increments on a daily basis that leads to a daily creative habit.
But instead of talking about principles and methods I’ve learned along this journey (like finding my style and voice as an artist, gaining confidence & momentum, refining my craft, unbelievable opportunities…) I’d rather tell you the story of WHY I began this journey. (If you’d like to read an older post check out my year five post.)
After all, you might be thinking, “that’s great that you have accomplished this, but what does your experience really have to do with me?” Perhaps, a lot.
But I need to bring you back to the beginning….
I found myself sobbing and broken on the side of this hiking trail in upstate New York during a retreat for ministry leaders. Life had unraveled and ironically, I felt emotionally like a knotted up and twisted ball of twine. I couldn’t determine what the issue was, and so couldn’t “fix it”. Which only made matters worse.
After some counseling, it was determined I had been suffering from a form of mild depression called Dysthymia. A full time ministry role where I held responsibilities outside my gifting and a misplaced identity in my work only compounded my problem.
I found myself needing to leave the church I helped plant. My wife and I had to sell our home. We didn’t know what would come next. Ultimately, it was a move out of state. What should have seemed like a fresh start, felt more like intense loss. We lost our house, left our friends and some family, left our faith community & jobs. It was during this transition that my father was also diagnosed with cancer, and quickly passed the second week into my new job.
I had often wondered to myself “is this it? is this what life looks like now?” It felt as rock bottom as I could imagine. And climbing out of depression seemed like a slippery slope, when circumstances threatened to weigh me down.
During this time I began to journal daily, intensely listening and praying. I didn’t know how to do much else other than dumping my emotions like modern day Psalms. Every day, I had just enough energy to keep showing up.
Through this process, I began to have this internal prompting that was calling me to return to art. Not the graphic design work that was part of my previous life’s employment, but rather a getting back to my roots, tactile experience of handling some art supplies that I hadn’t interacted with in since the days of art school. But how could I start creating art again when I had taken a 10 year absence and was battling depression?
My journey back started when, on a whim, I took a printmaking class at a local art center. While attending this 3 week course, I was turned onto a book called “The Creative License” by Danny Gregory. Little did I know this would stoke the internal creative fires within, that were dormant for far too long.
I decided to try my hand at 365 days of drawings and painting. Danny Gregory wrote “a five minute drawing is better than none”. Somehow these words were liberating. Surely I could manage five minutes, even if I had no clue how (or if) I could get to 365 days.
I was off and running, or more like stumbling. It was forced and awkward at first. My very first drawing was of a Starbucks coffee cup (pictured below). I both hate this drawing, and love it.
I hate it because it’s embarrassing. It’s a sucky drawing of a coffee cup. But I love this drawing because it signifies a rebirth. A phoenix moment. The moment I decided to push past my fear, those voices that told me I couldn’t draw because I couldn’t draw photorealistic renderings. The moment I choose to get back to my art because I needed it, for my soul.
