Starting a new project is an emotional rollercoaster. Whether you're a seasoned professional or just setting foot in your chosen field, that initial hesitation is a shared experience. That pause and reluctance are more than just a fleeting moment of doubt. It's a crossroads between artistic battles and the looming frustrations that will undoubtedly accompany the creative journey. Feeling guilty about this hesitation? Don’t. Here’s why.
The Hesitation
We've all been there—staring at a blank canvas, an empty document, or a vacant stage. It's intimidating. The potential, the ‘what-ifs,' and the fear of failure meld into an oppressive weight. This hesitation isn’t procrastination; it’s a moment of respect for the task ahead, a nod to the complexity and challenges of any worthwhile endeavor.
In artistic endeavors, this hesitation might even be more intense. You're about to pour a part of yourself into something new. There's a vulnerability in that. Will people like it? Will you even like it once it’s done? All these questions flash through your mind, slowing your hand as it hovers over the first stroke, word, or note.
The Guilt
Often accompanying this hesitation is a sense of guilt. Pausing can feel like a setback in a society that values productivity and quick wins. You chastise yourself, wondering why you can’t just ‘get on with it.’ This guilt doesn't stem from laziness; it originates from a misplaced sense of urgency, an illusion that every moment spent in contemplation is wasted.
The Artistic Battle
Art is conflict. It's a war between what's in your head and what your skills can produce, between your vision and the unforgiving reality of materials and mediums. Every project brings a new set of challenges. You're not just making decisions about color schemes or phrasing; you're wrestling with yourself, your abilities, and sometimes even the essence of the art form you’re working in. Each project is a new battlefield, and that’s mentally taxing. It’s completely natural to brace yourself before leaping into such a fray.
The Frustration
Frustration in art isn’t an ‘if’; it’s a ‘when.’ Projects rarely go as planned. There's always a curveball—be it a material that doesn’t behave as you thought it would or a concept that refuses to manifest as imagined. Anticipating this frustration is a sign of experience, not cowardice. You're aware of the pitfalls ahead, and that’s good. It prepares you mentally, making you more resilient in the face of upcoming obstacles.
The Preparation
In that moment of hesitation, your brain is doing important work. It's conducting a mental rehearsal, preparing for the conflicts ahead. This brief pause is far from a wasted moment; it’s an essential part of the creative process. It's akin to a sprinter taking their mark, a musician tuning their instrument, or a chef sharpening their knife. It's a moment of readiness, a gathering of mental resources.
The Conclusion
The emotional journey at the start of a new project is a cocktail of hesitation, guilt, artistic battles, and anticipated frustrations. But recognize this: each emotion has its role and serves a purpose. Your hesitation honors the complexity of the task ahead. Your guilt, although misplaced, reflects a commitment to productivity. The artistic battles sharpen your skills and deepen your relationship with your craft. And anticipating frustrations? That’s just wisdom.
So, the next time you find yourself pausing at the brink of a new project, don’t rush through that moment. Don’t feel guilty. Instead, embrace it. Understand it for what it is—a brief but vital chapter in your ongoing artistic journey, a pause that equips you for the thrilling pages to come.
Now go, and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation through your lens.
