The Art of Showing Up
Art & Photography by Danielle Krysa
Text by Jennifer Cooper
“I truly had NO idea that everyone—even the GREATS—get blocked and hear those little whispers. Had I known, I don’t think I would have quit making art for almost 20 years.”
Artist, writer, curator, and podcaster, Danielle Krysa wants you to know that your inner critic—that voice that tells you that your idea is stupid, that’ll never work, or that what you want is actually lame, etc.—is a big jerk. She knows because her inner critic is a big jerk too.
It’s a takes-one-to-know-one kind of thing.
Are you in the club? What does yours tell you? Maybe something like:
You have nothing meaningful to say. You’re just adding to the noise.
You’re going to fail anyway. Don’t waste time trying.
There are so many people who are SOOO much better than you.
You’re so lazy.
Danielle guesses it’s one of these because, based on her research, our inner critics aren’t just big jerks, they’re also incredibly unoriginal. They frequently tell us the same thing. And that thing boils down to: Your voice, experience, perspective? It doesn’t matter.
So where does that voice come from?
Danielle knows the origin story of hers. It came from a particularly brutal critique in college. The voice of her professor and peers replayed in her head until it became a voice that sounded a lot like her own. And hearing it in her own words was painful.
“It’s bullying. It’s emotional abuse. And it’s not okay,” Danielle says.
And yet, while our rational brains understand this abuse isn’t okay, emotionally it’s a different story. Emotionally, the impact is profound. In Danielle’s case, it made her put the paintbrushes down for 15 years.
It was an interview with a fellow artist for one of her books, who’d also dealt with criticism, that helped Danielle realize something profound. “It wasn’t actually the professor that stopped me from painting. I put my paintbrush down. And it was my responsibility to pick it up the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.”
And while she may not be aware of it, Danielle helped me quiet my own inner critic and get back to writing. Like Danielle, it was a professor who told me writing wasn’t my strength. It’s taken a number of years, but I credit a supportive conversation with Danielle back in 2012* to see the power of writing in my own voice.
That’s who Danielle is. She’s made it a part of her mission to help others identify the critic and move past the fear, doubt, and uncertainty. Why? Because your creativity, your voice, the texture you bring? It’s not frivolous. It’s necessary.
Thrilled to have Danielle here to share her experience and what she’s learned after talking with hundreds of artists who battle criticism of their own.
“to be fair, vivian’s guide book hadn’t included specifics on HOW to catch a wave .”// artwork from the artist’s instagram
I know you had a painful experience in college when a professor said you shouldn't paint anymore. What helped you pick up painting again?
Well, it took close to twenty years, but it was actually starting ‘The Jealous Curator’ that helped. Not right away, mind you, but a few years in I started to realize there was room for anyone that wanted to be creative. I was looking at hundreds of artists a week for my daily posts, and the range I saw—styles, mediums, subjects, scale, all of it—showed me that I could be part of this if I wanted to be. Granted, I started that journey by working in collage. My professor hadn’t said anything about that, so I figured I was safe. I didn’t start working with paint again until December of 2015, and that was directly related to a podcast interview I’d done with one of my favorite artists.
You have the podcast, ART FOR YOUR EAR and have 200 episodes! What's something you've learned after talking to all those artists? Something you'll hold onto forever?
I’ve had so many aha moments with all of the artists, but I guess the overarching theme has been that—wait for it—artists are just people. They have bills to pay, and often kids to take care of, but at the same time they’re creating insane works of art that are being shown all over the world! There are no excuses not to be making art if you want to—from Molly Hatch who, when she first started, had to wear rain boots while making ceramics because her studio was a flooded rented basement, to Amy Sherald whose parents really wanted her to become a doctor (She eventually decided to follow her own creative path. And yes, Michelle Obama chose Amy to paint her official portrait—mic drop.)
“I started to realize there was room for anyone that wanted to be creative.”
Out of all the people you've interviewed, who were you most intimidated by? You know, the one who made your heart race as you crafted your pitch?
Easy. American artist Wayne White. I interviewed him for the first time in 2015, and I’m not joking when I say that I put a garbage bin beside me just in case I threw up. Spoiler alert—I didn’t. As soon as we started talking, I relaxed. He’s funny and kind and generous, so it was pretty smooth! In fact, I just had him back on the podcast a couple of weeks ago. I’m happy to report there was no garbage bin required. The conversation Wayne and I had in 2015 was the catalyst that got me painting again. We were talking about “funny art”, because I’d been slammed in art school for doing humor-based work, and when Wayne first started showing his funny paintings in LA years ago, the gallery world wasn’t so sure—“real art” isn’t supposed to be funny according to some. I asked him how he felt about that, and he said, “Fuck it. I’m just gonna do it.” I laughed so hard, and then immediately thought, “Yeah, FUCK IT!”. The next day I gave myself a 30 day challenge. I’d make one hilarious collage a day, and I was going to incorporate paint because, well, fuck that too. Am I allowed to swear in this interview!?
above images were used with permission from artist’s instagram feed.
What's a piece of advice you wished someone had given you when you were feeling low?
To keep making no matter what. I assumed that blocks and hearing my inner critic meant that I clearly wasn’t cut out to be an artist. I truly had NO idea that everyone—even the GREATS—get blocked and hear those little whispers. Had I known, I don’t think I would have quit making art for almost 20 years. Geesh, what a colossal waste of time. That’s a huge reason I do what I do now with my books and speaking events etc. If I can help one person avoid the missteps I made, then I’ll consider The Jealous Curator a successful endeavor.
“When someone says they love your work (or whatever), just say THANK YOU. And then STOP TALKING.”
How about advice you wished you'd gotten for when you felt like you were nailing it?
I wish someone had taught me how to take a compliment! Not to call us out, but women are particularly bad about this. The advice I give now is this: When someone says they love your work (or whatever), just say THANK YOU. And then STOP TALKING. In other words, don’t say 'thanks' followed by a long list of things you don’t like about the piece. When you do that, it fuels negativity and your inner critic is in the power position—it also makes you a lot less fun to talk to. Hello, Debbie Downer.
photo courtesy of Danielle Krysa
Here's why I asked that last question: I think we forget that many of us don't know how to deal with success. Basically, there are a lot of women out there who think they fear failure, but what they really fear is being seen (ie. success). So can you offer any perspective on that? Is that something you ever struggled with yourself?
I always joke that I have the cards stacked against me—I’m a woman, I’m an artist, AND I’m Canadian, so I basically just apologize for existing! So yes, I’ve struggled with this! I’ve also learned to call bullshit on this. The #metoo movement helped, in that I—like so many women—had many, many ‘me too’ experiences that I just chalked up to, ‘well, what are ya gonna do.’ I’d finally had ENOUGH. Now I think of myself in a new way—I’m a woman, I’m smart, talented and have something to important to say, AND I’m Canadian. No apologies needed.
“I laughed so hard, and then immediately thought, Yeah, FUCK IT!”
I'm not a huge fan of the idea of "living out your dreams" because I think that's too passive. I think it often takes a fight and a whole lot of de-conditioning. Who's helped you fight for yourself?
Three men, actually. My dad, my husband, and my son. My dad was my cheerleader since the day I was born. He was a PhD scientist, and when I decided to be “responsible” by enrolling at University as a marine biology student, he called me at the end of my first year and convinced me to switch into fine art, “because that’s who you are.” My husband and I have been together since 1998, and he still tells me I’m the coolest person he knows almost every day. He has supported every crazy idea I’ve ever had, and when I was down and doubting myself, he was the one who called bullshit. And of course, my son. I want him to be proud of his mama, but more importantly, I want to set an example for him. Don’t quit when you care about something, no matter what anybody says.
What's something you wish an interviewer would ask you?
Q. Outside of art, what would your dream job be?
A. A cast member on SNL.
What? It could happen.
WWDD // artwork from the artist’s instagram
Many thanks to Danielle aka The Jealous Curator for being here.
You can buy copies of her books here, subscribe to her podcast here, sign up for her newsletter here (it’s totally worth the price of a coffee), and follow her on Instagram here to fill your feed with loveliness.
Oh and about that asterisk in the intro...
*That conversation back in 2012 was one of the moments that lead to the creation of this magazine. I remember comparing myself to a popular blogger at the time who was in the same sphere, and I said, “I don’t want to be like her. I want to be like me.”
It’s taken a long time, countless iterations/evolutions, an entire support team, and a lot of wrestling with my own inner critic, but here we are. Thank you.
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