The Guilt of Production, The Production of Guilt

Previously, in conversation with Ric Royer, I touched on the shame associated with cultural production, but recently I've been wrestling with something a little different: the guilt I feel about producing my own work or doing things entirely for myself. The shame Ric and I discussed was a particular sort of discomfort the artist feels when discussing what it is he "does." It's wrapped up in anticipation of any number of complex negative reactions - condescension, befuddlement, bewilderment, feigned interest, etc - but no matter what the response, the result is the same: quiet humiliation. Ric and I never discussed the complex positive reactions someone might have, but no doubt they would lead to quite the opposite reaction, possibly boastful pride. Shame is an externally motivated emotion - people make other people feel ashamed. You split your pants alone, you go home and change your pants. You split your pants in front of a crowd, you feel ashamed, then go home and change your pants. Okay, it's not exactly that simple, shame is a complicated emotion, but you get the point - people are rarely ashamed without some sort of external motivation. Guilt, however, is a little more nuanced.

Guilt is internally motivated - you make yourself feel guilty. It's the result of an internalization of a standard social code of conduct (your "conscience") and the subsequent transgression of that code. If I've internalized the notion that it is wrong to steal, when I steal, I will feel guilty about it. I don't need someone to tell me stealing is wrong to feel guilty, although I might need someone to confront me in order to feel ashamed. The code we've internalized is dynamic; it is always changing, and sometimes aspects of it can even be overridden or rationalized away, but there are often components that remain unchanged (murder is wrong, etc.). I'm currently confronting one of those unchanged components in my code, and having a hard time overcoming it. I think it's wrong to do something for myself, so when I do, I feel guilty about it.

West end of the upstairs office, before.

The origin of this problem is fairly simple - I'm a product of a Western tradition steeped in Judeo-Christian culture that extols altruism and a clinically co-dependent child of divorced alcoholic parents. I was imbued with the idea that doing for others, not the self, is the greatest virtue, and I learned at an early age how to caretake; eventually this developed into the system by which I generated feelings of self-worth. I did for others like I was supposed to, and I was praised; I did for my parents, and I was loved in return. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not knocking philanthropy, generosity, charity, or any of the other countless benefits of altruism. What I'm saying is, as an individual, complete and utter selflessness is a prescription for a barren identity - too much time spent creating other people (in a sense), and not enough time creating the self.

I'm not saying I am or ever have been completely and utterly selfless, that would be a ridiculous lie. I'm saying that I've internalized feelings that equate doing for others as good and doing for myself as bad. In the past, this has caused me intense hardship. In intimate relationships, I tend to overextend myself, I maintain a pattern of giving until it becomes the norm, but it's unsustainable. When I finally do amass the will (or desperation) to do something for myself, others see it as a disintegration of the pattern - in effect, a betrayal. Or the guilt I feel about doing things for myself causes me to hide them instead of addressing them and voicing my intention openly - an actual betrayal. My life, until recently, has been a roller coaster of increasing desire, compulsion, and violation (with periodic catastrophic releases) followed by the abstinence, penance, and atonement of rebuilding the relationships I harmed and self-worth I abandoned. Maybe I should've abandoned it - it wasn't built with the right material anyway.

East end of the upstairs office, before.

The problem isn't that I have no self-control or I'm a bad person - the problem is that I always returned to doing for others as a way to reconstitute my self-worth. If I could've asserted myself and my will forthrightly, secret transgressions and betrayals would've never been required. I could've stated what I wanted, attempted to attain it, dealt with the consequences, and used those experiences to build my self-worth.

I'm sure many people in my life have thought of me as selfish even though I spend most of my time giving to/doing for others. That's because those people focus on the times when my inability to assert my will has caused me to lie or act irrationally: having an affair, picking up and moving with very little warning, etc. But those times comprise a tiny fraction of all my actions - I'm neither selfish nor selfless, I just don't know how to be selfly or self-ful.

This blog is an attempt to do something self-ful (and I'm sure some of you think I'm overachieving), a daily introspective exercise, a research project smattered with some creative philosophical input. But lately, I've found myself turning away from it. Sure it's hard to sustain a full-blown essay every single day - but what really wears me out is when I look at the big picture and see that things haven't changed that much. I've been neglecting the blog to do things for other people. I've been neglecting my art to do things for other people. I've been neglecting the studio project that was supposed to be all for me. The list goes on.

East end of the upstairs office, after.

I've always had quirks about the way I produce art: I produce quickly, efficiently, late at night, normally alone. I always thought that this was the way that I worked best, the way that suited me (I'm impatient). Recently, however, I've realized that during the time I'm producing, I feel an intense amount of guilt. I feel terrible about "wasting my time" on my art when I could be doing something for someone else, or doing something more "constructive." I make things at night when no one is around so I don't have to feel bad about ignoring someone. I make things quickly so that I don't use up precious time that I could spend on/with someone else. As badly as I want to be an artist, making and thinking about art are still things that I "sneak in" between the things I've always done. I still have no concept of how to generate self-worth from the work that I produce (sure, some self-worth walls go up if people see my work and like it, but again, I'm still relying on someone else to provide those bricks).

There's a question about utility here that I'm not fully ready to address - but I'm sure of it because I've had two books in the works for about 6 months now. Instead of getting the books together and putting them out, I've been working on the house. Painting, building, cleaning, caulking, plumbing, whatever I can find. I'm doing those things for myself only insofaras I live here. Really, I'm doing them for the tenant, my partner, the cats, etc. Because I'm fixing the things they use. I'm still not really sure how people use my books or art. I know that they read them. I know that they perceive it. But for some reason I'm really resistant to the idea that they're using them (even though that's clearly what they're doing) - maybe it's because if they were using them, I'd just be making more things for people to use, gaining my self-worth from their response to my work. I told you I wasn't ready to address this. Now the logical conclusion is that I should be making entirely self-serving, totally useless art.

West End of the upstairs office, after.

Either way, what I do know is that I've found no way to garner sustainable self-worth from my artistic output, and I still feel guilty when I produce. I feel guilty because I'm coming a little too close to doing something entirely for myself - so I sneak it in during the wee hours when no one's around. No one makes me feel guilty, no one tells me I can't or shouldn't be making art, no one tells me it's a waste of my time; in fact, everyone close to me is quite supportive. Except for me.

I know this is about utility, I'm going to have to think about it some more. I'm also doing these things around the house because I'm still unemployed and it makes me feel useful, that I can still do things for other people even if I'm not being paid for it. Like pretending I have a job. You see, it's not only about the utility of what I make, but my utility. My usefulness. And sadly, making money fits into that equation somewhere.