The Artist's Journey (And Other Lofty Lies We Tell Ourselves)
The art world loves a good cliché.
We talk about “the journey.” About “channeling the muse.” About birthing entire galaxies through brushstrokes. Some people say they paint from the heartspace, others claim to vibrate in alignment with the universe. There’s sacred practice, divine downloads, intuitive movements, flow states, emotional alchemy… you name it, someone’s put it on a mood board.
And hey, if that language genuinely describes your creative process, more power to you.
But for me?
I just like to make stuff that looks cool.
What Inspires Me (Spoiler: It's Not the Cosmos)
I’m not summoning ancient spirits when I paint. I’m not working through generational trauma with every brushstroke. I don’t set intentions under the full moon or anoint my canvas with sage water.
Usually, I’m chasing a neat color combo I saw on a rusted-out truck or the way light fell through the trees while I was doing farm chores. Sometimes I start with a half-zoned-out sketch I made while pretending to listen during a meeting. Sometimes I just want to see what happens when I put burnt umber next to neon chartreuse.
That’s it. That’s the spark. Not divine, just daily.
10 Art World Clichés (and My Grounded Take on Each)
Let’s call out some of the usual suspects, the lofty lines that show up in artist bios, podcasts, and overpriced retreats, and see what happens when we bring them back down to Earth.
| Cliché | What They Say | What I Say |
|---|---|---|
| The Artist’s Journey | A sacred path of self-discovery and transcendence. | It’s just life. Everyone’s on a journey — art is how I record mine. |
| Trust the Process | Let go. Let the art lead you. | Yes, trust it — but also show up and do the work. Every day. |
| Channeling Divine Creativity | I am merely a vessel. | I’m a vessel for coffee and fleeting ideas. |
| Flow State | I can only create when I’m aligned. | I paint when I can. Sometimes that means during nap time. |
| Art as Alchemy | Turning pain into beauty. | Sometimes I’m just turning a blank canvas into… less blank. |
| Sacred Practice | My studio is my temple. | My studio is also the laundry room. It works. |
| Embodying the Creative Feminine | Wild intuition and the womb of the cosmos. | I’m just trying to finish this piece before the kids need lunch. |
| Living from the Heartspace | Energetic alignment fuels my palette. | My alignment comes from sleep, snacks, and maybe a walk. |
| Birthing New Worlds Through Paint | Each painting is a portal. | Sometimes it’s just a face I thought looked neat. |
| Creating in Resonance with the Universe | My vibration guides my expression. | I’m mostly resonating with my Spotify playlist. |
So What’s the Point?
I’m not here to bash people who use that kind of language. If it helps you make your work, good. Use it. Honor it. Light a candle and paint the cosmos.
But I think it’s okay to admit that not all art is transcendent. Sometimes it’s practical. Sometimes it’s play. Sometimes it’s problem-solving with a brush in your hand.
That doesn’t make it less valid, it might make it more honest.
Because at the end of the day, art doesn’t have to carry the weight of the universe.
It just has to carry the weight of your attention.
And if it connects with someone else?
Even better.
A Final Note
If you’re someone who creates without lofty language — who paints, draws, sculpts, or scribbles just because it scratches an itch, know this:
You’re not doing it wrong.
You don’t need to “find your voice” in a jungle retreat or “align with your higher self” to make meaningful work. You just need to keep noticing what grabs your eye, follow it with curiosity, and make something honest from it.
That’s been my approach for years.
No rituals. No incense. Just paint and an idea I didn’t want to let pass.
But…
sometimes, after a long session, when I step back from a piece and see something I didn’t consciously plan, something that feels right in a way I can’t explain, I wonder.
Maybe I am being guided by something bigger.
Maybe beauty doesn’t always come from effort, but from being open enough to let it move through you, even if that starts with a rusted-out truck or a good shade of green.
I’m not saying I’ve joined the cosmic art priesthood.
But I’m not ruling out that there’s something sacred in showing up, staying curious, and letting a quiet kind of magic sneak in through the mess.
And maybe… that’s the journey after all.