Fear, Faith and a Colossal Mistake
A good while ago I was contacted by an ad agency. They asked if I’d be willing to illustrate the cover of a potential children’s book they wanted to pitch to a major client. I was thrilled! The only trouble was…
I had very recently received the biggest, most thoroughly negative, terribly harsh criticism of my creative career. Strangely, it was not directed at my artwork or my writing specifically, but at me personally— as the creator of my artwork and writing. It took me completely by surprise and I’m sorry to say, it flattened me. It was as if someone had steam rolled my spirit. I desperately wanted to hide. Because when I considered the world around me, I imagined the venomous words of the critic and I felt afraid of being seen. I regretted having art and books out in the world where people could see them, and in some sense, see me…
The ad agency contacted me because they’d seen my artwork and my books— the very things I was currently regretting having ever sent out into the world in the first place. So, although I was excited they wanted me to illustrate this book cover, my mind was still very much poisoned by the voice of the critic. And that is why I made a colossal mistake. What mistake did I make?—you may ask. I’ll tell you.
Instead of illustrating the book cover in one of my usual styles, I decided to use a style I had never practiced, in a medium I knew practically nothing about. This would be like a ballet dancer suddenly deciding to do gymnastics or maybe even play football in the big upcoming ballet. It’s a terrible idea. That’s why you’ll never hear of a ballet dancer doing either of those things.
But that’s how it is when fear becomes your leader—you quickly find yourself on a path that just doesn’t make sense.
The art director was “surprised” by the artwork I produced for the book cover. Clearly disappointed, she said, “Amy, this lacks the depth of your other illustrations.” As her words sunk in, the weight of my mistake crashed down on me. I had run away from my own artwork, in a nonsensical attempt to hide, all because of the condemning words I’d allowed into my head and my heart. I said, “I’m so sorry! I’m going to re-do it.” The art director kindly told me there wasn’t time, but I insisted that I’d do everything in my power to get it done. Our conversation took place at 8:00 at night, and the big pitch was the very next morning.
I painted all night long, never knowing if it was even possible to complete such a detailed painting in that amount of time. An hour before the deadline, I still couldn’t tell if I’d be able to finish. Every second, a part of me wanted to give up on what seemed an impossible task. But another part of me said, “Paint in faith!” Not faith in a positive outcome—but faith that while the outcome belongs to God, I still can and must reach for what is good and right and lovely. And if I fall short, which I very well might—God will somehow transform the falling short into something beautiful.
After painting from 8:00pm till 6:00am the next morning, I finished the painting just in time. Amazingly, and maybe miraculously, the painting looked beautiful. It was a huge lesson to me about the power of fear and the power of faith. And through that experience, the harsh words of the critic were redeemed in my life, all for good.
~Amy