I would like to discuss the concept of Balance and how it can profoundly affect artists. While it may seem harmless, Balance can often be the source of significant pain.

As artists, we find ourselves conflicted between what we create in solitude and what we produce when external influences are present, or when someone is nearby.

When we create to express our innermost feelings; when we feel compelled to convey something; when we are alone and not required to explain our work, we often produce our most significant creations. These pieces are meaningful because we declare them so; they resonate with us, revealing a deeper truth.

However, when external factors come into play—such as creating life drawings in a studio filled with fellow artists, when a friend drops by and encourages you to keep painting, or when financial pressures demand that you sell some artwork to make ends meet—the dynamic shifts.

The private work you create may never be shown to anyone else because you lack the words to articulate its significance. Conversely, the public pieces may be easily understood but often hold little value for you, no matter how hard you try to invest meaning into them.

Here’s the truth: the art that emerges from the depths of your soul—the creations that flow from your heart, hand, and consciousness—fulfills their purpose, regardless of whether anyone else sees them. Creating your authentic art is as vital as breathing; it’s like blood coursing through your veins or the tingling sensation at the nape of your neck before you realize something has profoundly touched you. No one will applaud, recognize, or reward you for breathing, nor would you seek such acknowledgment, but these natural functions are essential to life. Likewise, you don’t seek validation for your private art—the act of self-actualization is its own reward, continuously nourishing your creativity.

One of my favorite mentors, Dwayne Walker, articulates this beautifully: Nature is the ultimate creator, from a delicate flower to a rugged mountaintop, from the glow of a sunset to the fury of a snowstorm, and even a tiny harvest mouse. Nature does not crave recognition. Yet, when we pause to appreciate what nature has crafted, marveling at both the minute and the monumental, we are compelled to stop and let it fill our souls. We truly see, and we are enveloped in wonder.

Dwayne remarks that we dance to dance, we write to write, we sing to sing, and we also paint to paint. Our authentic creativity does not stem from a desire for visibility; it resides in the space where we truly see—through our own, individual lens.

This brings me back to the notion of BALANCE. In this chaotic and often costly world, we do need to sell some of our work to afford food, shelter, and materials. At times, navigating this balance can feel akin to selling our souls.