Archive 501
Vivian Galván García
The Impostor
By Vivian Galván GarcíaI am an impostor, a deceiver. I am a master in disguise roaming the hallways of never ending clutter where I used to find my source of inspiration. The walls scream out at me but I have become a foreigner to the language of creativity. I don’t recognize the songs of colors as I stumble through the dance of forms. Instead, I find myself in a tempest of emotions. A numbing feeling creeps its way around me. From the tips of my fingers slowly, then all at once, invading every inch of my body. This is not my place anymore. I am the shell of an artist. I am an impostor.
We find ourselves cradled in the Seine’s embrace. Stumbling around a city crowded with artistic expression, swimming in the river of inspiration. We are drowning. The current is too strong, the pressure to be outstanding is too heavy.
We find ourselves on the verge of creation daring to crossing over. As we dangle on the edge we are scared to fall over to the side of mediocrity. We are burdened by the weight of doubting our own abilities. The relentless noise of inner criticism threatens to extinguish our flickering flame from within.
In front of me, the blanc page mocks me with its existence. It is unforgiving. It drives me to question every brush stroke as if it my decisions carried the weight of societal expectations upon its fragile shoulders. But the canvas is not at fault, is it? I am an impostor. I am my worst enemy.
The predestined feeling of falling short in comparison to the work of others pervades my every waking thought, crowding the depths of my mind. The fear of inevitable expectations acts as a hindrance to creation. It is natural, a part of the process.
You assume that by dedicating your life to the artistic career path, you are automatically expected to be great. To be a savant, a prodigy, a trailblazer. But who is to judge? After all, no great artist’s entire collection was filled with masterpieces. They eventually had to wipe their asses with whatever paper they had left.
We are all impostors. Pretending to know the paved way of navigating the never-ending maze of creativity. Because what is the nature of creativity if not self expression.