My most recent art show was significant in ways that probably weren't obvious to anyone else.
Since becoming a professional artist, I was somewhat snowballed into a career and lifestyle I wasn't prepared for. I have a Bachelor's in Nursing, but nowhere along the way was I taught how to care for my own identity while placing something so deeply personal in front of others to be accepted—or rejected.
For the past few years, every art show has felt like more than simply displaying paintings. It often felt as though my emotional wellbeing—and even my spiritual wellbeing—was on the line. On the good days, when people connected with my work or paintings sold, I felt accepted and validated. On the quiet days, I went home feeling rejected, uncertain, and questioning myself. Despite the emotional roller coaster (and my husband's frustration at times), I couldn't seem to separate my art from my identity. It was as though I wasn't selling paintings—I was selling pieces of myself.
Then, after the first day of my most recent show, I sensed God revealing something that changed everything.
For much of my life, I've found my identity in what I can do for others, how much I can produce, or what I have to show for myself. Learning that my worth isn't earned has been a long journey. I'm slowly discovering that before I ever give anything to this world, I am already deeply loved and inherently valuable. No success can add to that, and no failure can take it away—not even whether my artwork sells or doesn't sell. That truth remains unchanged.
That realisation completely shifted artist worldview and perspective for the rest of the show. Instead of feeling like I was placing my heart on display for people to accept or reject, I could finally see that what was actually being evaluated was simply my artwork. Those two things are not the same.
It also made me wonder how many other artists have fallen into this same trap. Creating is such a deeply personal process that it's easy for our identity to become tangled up in what we make. Because of this shift in perspective, I found myself able to encourage other artists throughout the show as well.
The more I've reflected on it, though, the more I've realised this isn't just an artist's struggle.
How many of us quietly believe that if we just work a little harder, earn a little more, become a better mother, wife, husband, friend, or employee, then we'll finally be enough? How many of us only allow ourselves to rest once we've achieved enough, rather than resting in the truth of who we are before the work has even begun?
If that resonates with you, I want to encourage you with the same truth I've been learning: your worth is inherent. You have value that cannot be earned and cannot be lost. You are deeply loved—not because of what you produce, achieve, or give to others, but simply because of who you are.