Words Matter

September 8, 2025


An artist's life is often lived in quiet, invisible moments, the hours spent alone in front of a canvas, a sketchpad, a screen, chasing something that only exists in the mind. When we create, we pull from somewhere deep and private, shaping pieces of ourselves into form. And when we share that work with the world, we're exposing something intimate. Vulnerability is stitched into every brushstroke, every contour, every decision to say, this is ready, even when we're not sure.

But what most people don’t see is what happens before that moment of sharing. Before the post goes live, before the gallery opens, before the work is framed and priced and displayed, there are the words. Not the ones written in statements or captions, but the ones spoken internally. The quiet, constant narrative of the self.

These internal words matter more than we tend to realize. They shape the way we perceive our own efforts, and in turn, how others perceive us. If we speak to ourselves with gentleness, patience, and encouragement, we create space to grow. We give ourselves permission to be imperfect, to learn in public, to evolve without shame. A kind inner voice might say: It’s okay if this piece didn’t land. You’re learning. Next time will be stronger. This is a step, not a failure.

That voice becomes a guide, not a judge. And with time, it becomes a foundation. Because in truth, the path of an artist is rarely straight or predictable. It's often winding and unclear, and it demands a certain level of faith. Not just faith in the work, but in yourself, and that kind of belief is built word by word. If we tell ourselves, I’ll never make it, we plant the seeds of doubt that quietly, over time, begin to grow into walls. But if we say instead, I’m figuring it out. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer, then those words become bricks in a path forward.

Self-talk is not fluff. It’s not ego-stroking or delusion. It’s the architecture of endurance. When others can’t see our struggle, when no one’s clapping, when the doubt creeps in, what we say to ourselves in those moments determines whether we keep going or quietly put down the brush for good.

The truth is, art will never be for everyone. And it’s not supposed to be. But it has to be for you. You have to believe there’s something worthy in what you’re doing, even if it’s not fully formed yet. Even if it's messy and awkward. You have to speak to yourself like someone worth nurturing, because without that, the work doesn’t stand a chance.

So let the words in your head be the ones that carry you, not the ones that cut you down. Let them be soft when you're hurting and firm when you're doubting. Let them be reminders of why you started and whispers of where you're going.

Because yes, words matter. Especially the ones no one else hears.