I don’t know why, but whenever I create something, something I really like and am proud of, I can’t stop looking at it. Even when I’m in the middle of creating it, I keep coming back to it, even when I don’t need to. And not with the intention of re-working it, but rather just to gaze at it and adore.
I am a visual artist, but quite honestly, I have not created a “work of art” in a bit. I have mostly been creating blog posts and working on my podcast. I have always tried to trust whatever creative energy flows out of me, no matter the form it takes, so right now, my blog posts feel like my “works of art.” (cue eye roll from pretentious declaration)
Screenshot of my blog home page. Isn’t she a beaute?!
I legit can’t stop looking at my blog lately. It’s to the point where I will turn on my computer, like actually take the time to boot it up, just to kind of look at my blog and poke around. I might make some tweaks here and there to an upcoming post, or maybe I’ll get sidetracked and begin a new project, or invest in another person’s article, post, or creation. But really, I’m just going on there to admire my shit.
Works of art, in any form, are really just extensions of ourselves. To me, each one feels like one of my little babies, and I’m not even a mother (hopefully someday). I remember when my twin nieces were born, and holding them when they were two weeks old definitely invoked that dopey mother love hormone. I didn’t need to bore them in order to adore them. They just emitted something precious and my body responded to their tenderness of being. It’s the same way with my art. Sort of.
I did some brief research online to see if I could find anything that normalizes this phenomenon, but all I really found was the Pygmalion character in Greek mythology. Am I losing my touch with basic internet searching? I thought my addiction-to-admiring-my-shit thing was like something that artists experienced. This Pygmalion myth doesn’t exactly apply, since this is more about a sculptor creating a human statue and falling in love with it. The story eventually wraps up with a cathartic, statue-come-to-life ending. This isn’t really what I experience at all. I don’t really personify my creations, I simply love them.
I mean, if I made something this beautiful, I’d probably fall in love with it too. Apologies, I don’t know the name of this sculpture, but it’s at Am lustgarten 1, 10178 Berlin, Germany.
I find I do the same thing sometimes when I construct a really thoughtful email. Even if it’s a work email, or a not-fun, confrontational kind of email to a friend or family member. When I put lots of work into it, curating every word, for some reason, even after I click send, I often open my sent folder to re-read the email, like maybe even more than once. And it’s not to make sure I said everything correctly, but more just to relish my efforts.
Maybe I’m just obsessed with myself? To circle around to Greek mythology again for a sec, am I teetering on the edge of Narcissus-ness? I don’t think so, since Narcissus turned away all romantic opportunities in favor of staring at his own reflection in a pool of water. No, I never deny an opportunity to be loved and adored by another, and I enjoy my healthy romantic partnership every day. And in no way am I an actual narcissist, I don’t think. I have a feeling my therapist boyfriend would actually let me know if I was. I know this term is thrown around in society to describe a person who displays any indication of self-obsession, but narcissism is a genuinely destructive mental disorder, characterized by a person who “is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others,” among other things. That’s not me, and hopefully those closest to me agree.
So what is it, then? Dare I say it may be a healthy sense of self-worth? I’m not saying it is, but I’m not saying it isn’t. And why do I even feel sheepish to admit this? Humility is 100% celebrated at all times, in all people, always. Self-pride is up for debate, especially if it’s coming from a woman. I’m not meaning to turn this political, and I don’t mean anything against men or women, or anything of the sort. It’s just interesting that I feel somewhat ashamed to admit I freely love my shit and can’t stop enjoying it. I mean really, how dare I?
This post has no conclusion, and is rather an authentic declaration of feelings. Does anyone in the world relate, or am I alone on this one? I would love to hear your stories of self-celebration with regards to your creations.
Thank you for reading my rambles as always, and until next time…
xo
PHOTO CREDITS
Featured photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
Photo of sculpture by Pavel Nekoranec on Unsplash
I relate to this on a very extreme level! Be it my blog, or the concluding paragraph to an assignment for college, or even an instagram post, I find myself returning to just look and go through these simple things I’ve created. I used to chide myself for being self-obsessed, but recently had an inner conversation about it.
The thing is, we’re so often taught to be critical of our work and to always strive to be even better that we forget how to actually, genuinely, and adequately appreciate what we’ve created. While ambition and self-improvement are extremely important, we also need to learn how to a see value in something we’ve put love and effort into. With social media especially, we keep holding ourselves to higher and higher standards of what it means to be created or to have created something “good” when in fact, even the simpler things can bring us joy and make us feel accomplished. I think there’s nothing wrong or out of order in appreciating ourselves and giving ourselves a warm pat on the back! Criticism is fairly easy to come by, so it’s nice to just feel peacefully, quietly proud of ourselves, for ourselves, by ourselves :))
Your post actually helped me understand my own thought process a bit better, so thank you for that!
So well said, and you’re so very welcome! Thanks so much for your thoughtful response, and I’m so glad you relate ☺️☺️☺️xo
I SO relate with you. I do the same. The number of times I re-read my posts, my emails, my messages – feeling proud of what I’ve written. I don’t know if it’s called something but it doesn’t feel like narcissism. Maybe we look to give ourselves the appreciation we don’t get from others? 🙈
OMG this is just so lovely to hear I’m not the only one! And yes I agree, it feels really far from narcissism, it’s just like straight up self-admiration, but coming from the sweetest place (I think). We’ll get to the bottom of this phenomenon! I’ll let u know if I come up with any theories. Your theory sounds pretty accurate so far 💕
Great post and very relatable. You have much to admire. It feels good to love and be proud of something we create. It makes me happy and boosts my confidence — and helps balance the persistent critical voice in my head. Thank you for sharing 💛
Yes, I agree, and I’m so glad u liked!! 🦋
Ha! Yes, I do this too!!! Including reading the emails. Maybe it’s also the desire to communicate well, and just feeling so good when it feels like, yes, I said what I wanted to say!
Yes totally! 💯