Art Jealousy

Envy. Jealousy. Resentment.

Those feelings tend to arise in the realm of art. How often does a creator's heart constrict with an almost melancholic finality when they see another creator—successful, with sophisticated and congruous pieces, followed by a stream of adoration everywhere? Too often, I believe.

This post is not directly meant to alleviate any feelings of jealousy, but to instead sit with the feeling. One should not react to their emotions but instead respond to them. We have heard it and seen it all before. Those we follow and look up to have gotten so far because they have put in the work. From my experience, I have seen the progress of my favorite creators. Their amateur beginnings, their "cringe" sketches, their growing seriousness in their craft. And yet, I am still jealous of some of them despite knowing their perseverance and learning.

There's a lot of facets to this jealousy too. Time that slips away and makes it feel as if others are running miles ahead. Inexplicable nadirs in skill progress that give a feeling of confusion and hopelessness. A lone artist journey that feels as if it will fruit nothing. Yes, those facets plague me still today. But what keeps me going?

In this age of AI, I believe that has paved the way to put aside my jealousy. It's a reminder to support those with the same interests as mine, to celebrate them and to also celebrate me. Over time, my resentment has settled. Not completely though, let's just say a touch of envy keeps the competitive spirit aflame. There are creators I admire who are the same age as me that have skills of professional illustrators. I have a friend who is an immaculately talented painter. This is not a definite answer to how my feelings simmered, but a personal one: because I saw them as people.

My favorite creators, my friends who create, the accounts I see while scrolling Instagram, are all people who live a exploratory life like mine and can create something beautiful. Beautiful to me. Beautiful to others. Meaningful to themselves. Coincidentally, it reminds me of one of the key concepts I am studying in art history. Humanism. "Man is the measure of all things," said Protagoras. Indeed, humanism is very relevant here. The aforementioned can all do something great and touching according to themselves. Not according to society, or anyone, but to their heart and soul. If they can, why can't I? What I create is mine. If I wish to be as great as another, I shall. If I am happy with how I am now, I shall let it be.