The Freedom of Obscurity: Making in the Dark
a short and half-awake musing on making art in obscurity
A few days before Christmas, I took an evening walk with a childhood friend in the freezing rain. The soft glow of Christmas lights made a way in the darkness. It had been at least a year since we properly caught up, and there was much to discuss. We arrived at the point in our conversation where I asked her how her art is going. She said that in 2023, she’s going to write her graphic novel and that’s that. Finally. It’s happening. Away from the pressures and expectations of everyone else, away from her own imposter syndrome, just for her, she is finally in a place where she can begin the graphic novel. She is ready, under the cover of obscurity, to begin to write.
Obscurity as a Test for Love
How do you know you really love something?
Perhaps our loves captivate us when no one is around, when there is no prize involved. When affirmation, likes, engagement, and traffic don’t matter. When we make from a place of pure love and delight—out of necessity or out of abundance. Perhaps we know we love something when there is no fear involved.
I recently crossed Free Solo off my to-watch list. Alex Honnald summited the 3,000 ft. El Capitan in Yosemite without a rope. A feat no one has done before (or died trying). He lives. The training crew, the camera crew, his friends who helped him practice the route all knew he was going to attempt the free solo without telling them. So, one morning, under the literal obscurity darkness, telling no one, he starts his chase up God’s biggest rock.
The best part of the Nat Geo doc was the cameras racing to meet him at the top and all Alex could repeat was “That was delightful. Just delightful.” No screaming, no shouting, just a good head-nod of delight and mission-accomplished check. Nothing like a full on heart-soul-mind-strength experience to occupy all the planes of existence in one go to make an incredible work of art.
Honest art-making comes from our honest pure love of the art. One of the best ways we can test our love for the work is in obscurity and in testing the integrity of the process: I ask myself, do I make my work out of love for the work and love for God, or do I make from a place of pressure and fear?
The Cost of a Closet Creative
Perhaps, this is the inner tension all makers feel as described by British psychoanalyst D.W. Winnicott:
In the artist of all kinds I think one can detect an inherent dilemma, which belongs to the co-existence of two trends: the urgent need to communicate and the still more urgent need not to be found.
It is a joy to be hidden and disaster not to be found.
I don’t think an artist can ever stay in obscurity to experience the fullness of their work. There is a completeness of joy when something is shared and received. There is a humility involved with offering your work up to be scrutinized, analyzed, rejoiced over, and offered to the world for the good of it. To steward the work well there must be a nurturing phase, the release phase, and then it’s-taken-on-a-life-of-its-own-phase (I’m just making stuff up at this point, sue me) This is different from our core love of the craft which starts in the dark.1
I don’t mean that all makers need to run after fame and popularity, per se. But sharing your work with people, even in small ways, adds to the very completeness of the work. If you travel and come back from the trip and never talk about it, or share photos from it, you’re actually missing a big part of the traveling experience in the first place.
Vocational Arts Challenges
Part of my imposter syndrome I contribute to the fact that almost everything I make is not in obscurity. It’s always in view of someone else, sometimes multiple people, and made for others. It’s always edited. And then it’s spread far and wide well into the corners of the cloud and world, open for critique and feedback. There is a deep joy I have in its reach, yet at times it can feel performative, stifling, and fearful.
Which leads me to encourage, once again, for my working-artists: make time for your own work under the shadow of the Almighty. Just for you and God. Keep some of your work away from onlookers. Share in-person with family or friends or let it sit for a while. Enjoy the freedom that obscurity grants. Nurture your love.
Just don’t free solo El Capitan. Listen to my friend Jake:
So many of my thoughts and recommendations go back to Lore Wilbert these days — check out her podcast episode with Makers and Mystics about her new book A Curious Faith for some extra Rilke and making-in-obscurity content.
Thanks Liz 😊 making in the dark is like praying in the cupboard, because it's worth it even when no one else can see, except God.