How Do You Know When You're Ready To Make Art About Something Painful?
Trauma and creativity are two sides of the same coin.
The day after my mum’s funeral, I met with my PhD supervisor Lexi on campus. I said I felt like ‘stale bread’ and was somewhat disoriented, especially since a week prior I had delivered my Confirmation of Candidature and has some serious work to do on the direction of my research.
Instead of shying away from my reality, Lexi asked me one of the most powerful questions I’ve ever heard:
"WHAT WILL YOU MAKE FROM THIS?”
It ignited a part of me that was ready to fight for healing. The part that had always known there’s different paths out a trauma that don’t lead to self-destruction or the drain.
Since I started doing this work, I get asked all the time about whether or not there’s a ‘right time’ to turn your pain into Art. So let’s formalise my answer here in the hopes that if you’re teetering on the edge of that creative journey, you’ll be able to finally make a decision.
Creative Self-Inquiry
“How do you know when you're ready to make art about something painful?”
“How do you when you’re ready…”
This might be the trickiest part of the question. But, in my experience, there will be tells. Here’s a few to keep an eye out for:
If you can tell the story of ‘what happened’ without blame, without crying, and without fear, you might be ready.
You find the lesson in the experience of what you went through and want to share it, you might be ready.
You feel haunted by it and are fed up to the point of frustration, you might be ready.
You feel a desire to journal or write down your experience, you might be ready.
Everyone will have their own tells. It might even just be an inner feeling that you want to do something with what you went through. It could be loud, it might be quiet, it might not even make a sound.
There’s also no time limit, either. You might be ready right away. Or it could take decades. It all depends on what happened, how much support you have, and what season of life you’re in. The most important thing to do is call in some self-compassion – no matter what kind of readiness you feel, you’re going to need it.
“…to make art…”
This is where I’d like to pause and offer a quick definition. Why? Because the word ‘Art’ is a loaded one which may have made you flinch just now.
I define art as any outward action stemming from authentic self-expression. It’s not necessarily about the form it takes – because a meal and a painting are both Art – but about the intention of the creator.
If, at some point in your life, someone told you that you weren’t creative, I want to apologise on their behalf. They were perpetuation their own story of lack, likely from what was said to them about their skills.
Everyone is creative and can make art. Period.
You don’t have to monetise it. You don’t have to share it with anyone.
Art is one of the best places to plant your pain. Not because it’s going to produce a masterpiece, but because it stops your pain exploding in every direction, typically hurting the ones you love the most. By channeling it into a poem, recipe, pattern, painting, etc, you give it a purpose.
And that, my friends, is the fast track to healing.
“…about something painful?”
Much like the definition of art above, ‘something painful’ isn’t easy to pin down. What’s painful for you, might not even register on my scale, and vice versa. If it hurts, it’s painful. Doesn’t matter what happened or how long ago, if it still causes you to shrink in fear, it’s a painful thing.
You don’t need to be in pain to make art, but pain does need somewhere to go, otherwise it has the potential to boil you alive. Talk therapy, journaling, somatic practices, and movement, are great pressure release valves, but creativity can actually transmute (change) the pain into something else.
Trauma and loss leave big holes in us. I truly believe grief is our brain’s way of trying to fill that hole. Which it does a beautiful job of covering over time, but it’s never quite strong enough to hold. So finding the right shape to fit the hole is a creative action, one that has the power to change your life.
So many of my beliefs have changes and evolved over the years, but this one has remained solid. Creativity and trauma are bound together, like two sides of the same coin, because we need both to grow and live. Create too much and you burn out; sit in your loss and you’ll drown.
But if you can learn to turn them over each other gently, blending them together in the same way you’d fold water into flour, you might just create something nourishing.
Life flips the coin – you’re the one who calls it
If you’re going through a particularly shitty time right now, I know how all-encompassing that can be. I won’t tell you it will change or that ‘this too shall pass’, but I will remind you that this is part of being alive. It hurts, it heals, it stings, it excites.
You can always make a different call because the coin is always in the air.
Creatively yours,
Dr Maz xoxo
PS: I’m in the process of creating a creative tool to help you do exactly this. My hope is to get it out in June, but let’s just see what life wants. If that’s something you’re interested in, reply and let me know (because I also need the accountability).