Talking to people who are satisfied with their work, they describe a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. Of doing something useful, of feeling like they were part of something worthwhile.
When I was growing up, every artist I would meet, - be it a writer or a cinematographer or painter or actor -would urge all of us to do something else if we could. If we could do anything else, do it. We should contemplate a career in the arts only if we had no choice but to become artists, and if we could be even mildly happy doing something else, we should do that instead. Because almost everything else was easier.
My young mind interpreted that as a description of a sweeping, perhaps violent force that drives one to create art, and if unheeded, then one would implode or something. I misunderstood.
A lot of my time is spent worrying about the things I'm not doing. A big chunk of my mental cycles are devoted to things I haven't done, should be doing, etc. Projects I'm not doing. Plans I am not executing. Work I am not creating. However, when I do make something - even if the product isn't that good, or the progress is negligible - I feel satisfied. I don't feel elated. I don't feel like I had no choice but to create. My life isn't meaningless if I don't do it. It's not a tragedy if I create nothing.
But if I want that feeling of being in the place I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to be doing - that feeling seems to only come from creation. I think that's what those artists are talking about.
I think that you are an artist if you have to create to feel like you're doing what you're supposed to be doing. That's all. It's not a sweeping force, but a quiet one. I just started to notice it a few months ago, and it's a bit of a problem because 99.9% of my waking time has been self-engineered to be consuming time. Eating, watching, playing, reading. These are not creative acts.
Time to re-engineer.
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