I am safe being seen.

How feeling safe is an artist's armor when sharing your work

I am not afraid to be seen. A bold statement - one that our animalistic side recoils from. Our self-protection mechanism kicking in.

Cultivating a presence as an artist, creating your work, and sharing it on any platform is daunting. The lines become blurred between your art, your life, your thoughts, your fears, your dreams.

Chappell Roan recently said in a podcast, “My name is Kayleigh, but Chappell is almost like a performance piece”.

Turning your art and yourself as an artist - into a performance piece. A separate persona. It’s you, but a different font.

Seeing Chappell embody Joan of Arc at the VMAs this week, my god. She is a living, breathing artwork. And the way that she sets boundaries, clearly drawing the line between her work and her life - delicious.

She is offering this breath of clarity in a world that is so tied to societal expectation and exploitation of an artist’s wellbeing. Speeding along until an artist can’t find love and joy in what they create anymore.

Rejection, criticism or even praise can be overwhelming and feel like a personal attack. There must be something ‘wrong’ with you to illicit this reaction.

Creating this alter-ego acts as a thin veil in between you and your art. Just enough separation to gain perspective. 

When I edit videos to share online I listen to my own voice and look at my own face for hours on end. Which gets extremely annoying if you’re not viewing it objectively. And I can’t be too precious about the way I look, or sound, or the poems I write. Because otherwise I’d end up in this cycle of self-judgement making up the craziest things about myself. And never sharing my art. Which was the point all along. 

And if you want to make a living from your art, that distance is crucial. You have to be able to view yourself externally - with the perspective of a best friend. Someone who cares, but also won’t hold back on the truth. 

As I’ve found my way as an artist, it’s a practice I’ve been cultivating. I’ve dreamt up this “poetess” character that I embody anytime I am performing or creating content. It’s like a higher extension of me. It creates a clear boundary between what people tell me, be it praise or judgement or doubt, and how it effects me. 

I’m still living as truthfully as I can in the moment and honestly interacting with people - but performing as my “poetess” gives me that extra boost of bravery. That push to say yes, you are talented, you can write a poem from thin air in a minute.

I have a pinterest board called “poetess”. A Spotify playlist. A certain dress code that makes me feel more like her. 

Social media will be like, so what’s your personal brand? What about your personality can we brand and niche down on? And it all gets tied too close to you, to your own ego. The algorithm wants consistency, it wants something easily recognizable. And trying to fit ‘you’ into that stupid box is ridiculous. It’s easier when it’s an extension of you, your character that just has to show up and play their part.

Posting on socials can also be cringe. But having that objective perspective means it doesn’t matter what Jessica from 6th grade stalking you on her finsta thinks. It’s not you.

Also, sitting outside in the park with a typewriter is not for the faint of heart. I have gotten some STRANGE looks from people. But again - that distinction between me and my performance self, gives me the courage to hold my head high.

An art project is allowed to shift and change. You can experiment with it, go further with it than ‘you’ would - because it’s not you. The world is literally your oyster. 

I trained as an actor, and there’s an exercise we were taught for character building. You take a piece of paper, and draw your character in the middle. Then for each part of the body you write facts, dreams, desires, memories, favorite things, and feelings down on the paper. 

You end up with your character surrounded by all of these words.

It is a visual representation of who this person is. What they love. How they walk through the world. How they show the world love.

I remember doing this years ago when I started taking myself seriously as a poet. And it forced me to really clarify how I want to show up as an artist. 

When more than just a handful of people started seeing my work, at least once a day I’d repeat to myself: I am safe being seen. I am not afraid to be seen.

A mantra I wear like armor. To be my own Joan of Arc, all day every day.

With love, Olivia