Enmeshment With Art

I’ve noticed a strange trend when I practice self-criticism: judging my art as bad easily morphs into judging myself as bad. I seem to be enmeshed with what I create, looking at my art as an extension of my being. In a way, I suppose that’s true. Each piece of art is a passage into my mind and my heart. It is vulnerable and sometimes scary. When people see my art, I feel like they are actually looking at me. When I am proud of my art, when all the colors and lines fall into each other creating elegant forms and evocative images, that intimacy feels good. When I am not proud of my art, and everything looks discordant and messy, it feels terrible.

Enmeshment is a psychological term typically applied to interpersonal relationships, particularly the parent-child relationship. It is when there is no emotional independence between the two. The child consequently struggles to become independent and develop autonomy. The parent depends on the child for emotional support and creates an environment where the child relies heavily on the parent. It’s damaging to the child. The parent may rely on the child for their emotional well-being, and the child needs the parent’s help to make every decision.

I can loosely apply this to art. As the creator, I am like the parent of my art. Now, my art is not sentient (I hope) and therefore cannot be emotionally damaged by me, which is quite honestly a relief, but in this metaphor it would be the child. When I create art, there is often no emotional separation. My self-esteem and value is based off of the quality of the art I create. If I make bad art, I am a bad artist. If my art is criticized, I feel I am criticized. Now, I am no psychologist, so I’m not sure I’m applying the metaphor correctly. If you want more information about enmeshment, I suggest seeing a professional.

One solution to enmeshment is to set boundaries. Boundaries are the bane of my existence. They are such a struggle for me, and I have to work on them every day. Here’s a really good metaphor for boundaries. Imagine you have a house with a front garden. You’ve spent a while planting flowers and weeding it so it’s beautiful and lovely. However, the neighborhood kids always play in your yard and end up trampling your flowers and kicking up the grass. Boundaries are like a fence around the garden. They protect what is important to you. I have had to set all sorts of boundaries, even with my dog. Now, I’m starting to think I might need boundaries with my art.

It’s weird to consider setting boundaries with an inanimate object, so I’m not going to think of it that way. I’m setting boundaries with the concept of art and with myself. I need to create separation from my art to preserve what is important to me: my self-worth. I cannot afford to have my view of myself be colored by what I create.

This almost feels controversial as I write it. Art is so often viewed as an extension of the artist, which in some ways, it is. Art can be extremely intimate. Am I my art? Is my art me? These are not simple questions. In the literal sense, of course I am not my art. I am the one who creates it. Creation itself, however, is a very vulnerable thing. When I paint something, I am implicitly sharing what I think is beautiful or intriguing or dramatic. I am committing my perspective of the world to paper (or canvas). The thing is, perspectives can change. By recognizing that I am not my art, I give myself the freedom to grow.

I urge you to recognize the separation between who you are and what you do. Are you your actions? Or are you more?

Happy thinking,

Amelia