A few years ago, my wife and I had the good fortune to take in the Edgar Degas exhibit at MFAH. An extensive collection curated from multiple museums, galleries, and private collections the show spanned the artist’s life; formative years to successes, change of mediums to ultimate decline. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
But what struck me most was the blatant lack of confidence overriding his work, across all mediums, at every period of Degas’ life. The lack of confidence was most vividly apparent in blotted faces on purportedly finished work. That from a man capable of acute portraiture.
There are theories rooted in Degas chronic vision problems. Indeed it is now believed that Estelle Musson and her ability to adjust to her own blindness is what engendered Degas’ obsession with his most famous subject. But Degas’ shift from near-photo realistic detail to abstract features—if features were rendered at all—screams of chronic self-doubt. He sat out shows, at times entire seasons.
As writers, we walk a similar tight wire. If we send our darlings out too soon—un-tempered and unpolished—the agents and publishers will ignore them. Degas’ “Wartime in the Middle Ages,” was dismissed as a juvenile effort. However, if we sit on our stories rather than risk rejection, life slips away from our work and skills wither.
Writers, even more than painters, toil in solitude, often for years to build skills and discipline, to hammer and hone stories. Some of us find our way to crit-groups, writing conferences, and/or coaches. Some of us find community and support. Others find harsh critiques and clique-ish exclusion. Sadly, the first misstep is often the last and those writers never put an imaginative word to medium again.
Even the successful among us slog away under the weight of doubt. Success doesn’t mitigate imposter syndrome. Degas was among the few painters who sold, (and sold well) in his lifetime. But at the time of his death, Degas’ family found a warehouse of work he had never discussed.
We all know a Thomas Harris, a Harper Lee, or a Toni Morrison—successful writers, stilled not by a lack of imagination but by a crippling self-doubt that is the kiln for every “block” that writers experience.
Degas sought out the works of others and surrounded himself with art and innovation. He experimented with printing presses and cameras. He bought, conserved, and promoted other artists. In doing so he found confidence, if fleeting, to produce work.
We must do the same. Look for new writers, seek their company, (social media is more than gossip and cats) and read, read, read. More than anything else, write, just for yourself.
Set loose your imagination. If you can’t paint, (novel) then draw, (novella) if you can’t draw, then sketch, (short story) and if you cannot sketch, then just experiment, (scene/free write) but don’t quit.
The photo above, Edgar Degas, Self-portrait, ca. 1857, public domain.
