Who are we doing “this” for?
When your creativity doesn’t garner the attention you wish.
I scrolled through my Instagram at least 20 times in a 2 hour period the first day I curated social media presentations in celebration of Black Music Month. Naturally, the lack of engagement on the part of my followers disappointed me initially. I would grow excited and anxious in my preparation to share why music can socio-politically mobilize people and why I am stan for someone like D’Angelo.
“I am so thrilled to share this with y’all!”
My thrill evaporated and it rained small disappointments that sounded like my insecurities.
“My passion for Black music history is relatable to some, but no one is required to share the same interests or love for it as me.” I whisper those valid, yet painstaking sweet nothings to myself as I press the “post” button.
How many likes will I get? Who will comment? Am I using the right hashtags?
Questions and worry swarmed the happy feelings I had when I gathered the posting materials, but why?
The level of zeal I have for Black music and culture is not an interest I feel I can put on the backburner until however many people are watching me, validating me. Constantly, when sharing my creative interests with the world I must examine my ability to separate my being from my work, but this also requires that I investigate why I feel the need for validation, attention, and/or acknowledgment with something that started out as a hobby.
None of those considerations are simple. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with wanting an engaging audience or fan base. When I begin digging deep to answer these questions, I find the childlike me that wants love and attention. I discover the independent, “I don’t want no boss” me that wants to make a career out of this. The me that yearns for other people to be impacted by what I do reveals itself.
Surely, the latter aspiration is something others feel.
Many of us, creatives, may start our journey’s creating with the interest of resurrecting ourselves from some sort of emotional or mental calamity, or simply because it is what brings us joy. Whatever the reason, I am learning about who I do “this” for and why I do “this” daily. Unearthing that returns me to a place of gratitude about my journey as a creative.
Manifestation and mental awareness are all the more pertinent through this trek since this journey is also about the people that look to creative’s work.
Those two instruments for growth are very real. A positive, realist mental state, of course in coalition with work, has led to far more opportunities than the fear of never growing or the paralysis that accompanies lacking perspective on my current impact.
I see what my adoration for music does to other people. It has the capability of fueling their curiosity and empowerment.
When one is cognizant of this what their work does, the focus shifts from the numbers (how many people are watching) to manifesting what one already knows to be true: that no one is going to approach the creative process like you, so you may as well present your work as you, at all times. You may as well pin down why you do what you do and who you do “this” for. Make that the centerpiece of your work.
I do “this” for me, first. I do “this” for everyone who is open to learning.
I do “this” because I value the work of musicians, poets, artists, and all the folks who don’t do none of that.
Creative work, while connected to me, is merely a tool for my higher purpose.
Who do you do “this” for and why?
As an extra tidbit, one of my favorite artists Markus Prime, an NSFW comic illustrator, discussed why you should just go ahead and shoot your shot on your dreams no matter who is or isn’t watching.
https://www.instagram.com/tv/CCHi5PwFPq5/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet
