Creativity rooted in care and other lessons to learn as a ‘tortured’ artist
You don’t have to be a Swiftie to know that poets—or artists in general—are often considered "tortured."
Our worth is not only appraised based on the quality of our work, but our outward commitment to the craft. It’s why we hold the misguided notion that suffering is the prerequisite to a good story or song. Why else would we lock ourselves in our rooms, with little sustenance or sunlight, to make our next masterpiece? It’s alluring, it’s mysterious. It’s the most convincing display of devotion.
But according to Meg Yarcia, Marxist psychologist and eponymous advice columnist behind Dear Meg, it’s completely antithetical to what creation is.
At the recently concluded Tea Time sessions by Concerned Artists of the Philippines (CAP), Yarcia explained why we can only make truly restorative art under conditions of care.
Artists, especially those who work independently, find it hard to cultivate a healthy environment because they live in cycles of unpredictability. “As a freelancer, it’s easy to keep taking on assignments or personal commitments, thinking that we can always afford to slot it in our schedules,” Meg explained. Add to that our inherent people-pleasing tendencies, and we have a foolproof formula for burnout.
This is where establishing boundaries and adhering to a routine is essential. Aside from knowing when and what to prioritize, Meg notes that this involves intentionally carving out time to eat (“No, coffee and cigarettes are not considered a meal!”), incorporating body movement, and running personal errands.
Rest is also a necessary and even radical component in a dog-eat-dog world that requires constant optimization. These don’t have to be spent in expensive exercise classes or overhyped cafes that specialize in watered-down coffee. Attendees cited pacing around their apartment, mindlessly listening to music, and even boredom as staples of their daily routines.
“There are articles around that talk about the importance of daydreaming, especially now that it’s been lost to the art of doomscrolling,” said Alec, a writer and digital marketer by trade. It’s when we pause and process recent events, go down internal rabbit holes, and tap into unconventional ideas.
But this demand suddenly looks more difficult for those who have turned their only hobby into their day job. When I started writing full-time, I thought that maintaining a blog on the side would be the best way to bring back the fun in my work. But the element of performance overshadowed the original purpose of self-expression.
I felt the need to weigh in on trending topics or force myself to post when I had no words left in me. I shared this with the rest of the group and was met with sighs and nods of agreement. Carving out time to create without any imaginary audience is a necessary reminder that we are artists even when no one is watching.
Ironically, one of the strongest forms of self-care is cultivating a support system. A common survival tactic in our individualistic, profit-oriented society is thinking in zero sums: our loss is the gain of another and vice versa. Everyone in similar or even adjacent industries is potential competition.
But Filipino culture has always been centered on the collective: It's evident in our linguistic practices, where we tack the suffix “ka” to nouns that identify our personal relationships (think kapamilya or kaibigan), and our shared values of hospitality and generosity even towards strangers and tourists. Our indigenous psychology has always been rooted in pakikipag-kapwa tao.
For Meg, one of our key principles should be equality—“knowing that everyone is wiser than us at something, and that one need not be an expert to impart knowledge or extend care.” In the same way, we are encouraged to exercise compassion and share whatever we can.
“As a counselor, one of the best pieces of advice I learned from my mentor is that when your practice is rooted in compassion, there are no rules. It’s a case-to-case basis. You give what you think can help that person and whatever you are willing to share,” she shared.
In the last segment of the workshop, Meg asked participants to list down the burdens we carried, the ways we ease them, and the resources our communities could provide to help us. Once we scribbled them down on colored sheets of paper and pasted them to the wall, I was shocked. I had been sitting alongside the writers of those words for hours and I never would have imagined they were harboring so much inside them.
Artists are so used to detaching ourselves out of a need for concentration that we forget that as human beings, we were never built for isolation. No wonder we end up so “tortured.” Unlike the self-care hacks that often permeate our For You Pages, there are no dupes or workarounds to genuine conversation and concern from others. Much can be learned about ourselves, others, and the world if we take pause and talk about it over some tea.
Established in response to the Free the Artist, Free the Media movement in February 1983, CAP has made it their life’s work to advocate for freedom of expression and justice, nationalism, and democracy. One of their flagship programs in pursuit of this ultimate goal is Tea Time sessions, where cultural workers untangle the thorny problems within their sector in the hopes of co-creating the necessary solutions. Join CAP and follow them on Facebook to stay updated about their next Tea Time sessions.
