Making any kind of art is a very personal process. Without even realizing it sometimes, you expose the sharp edges of pain and fear or the quiet corners of hopes and dreams you carry in your heart when you share your creations.
I recently self-published my second memoir. When I shared an early draft with a friend, I said “There’s quite a lot of me in this one.” Her reply was simple and direct: “There’s a lot of you in everything you write.”
My friend reminded me of the simple truth that everything I create comes from my heart. I’ve self-published books and music, and sent it all out into the world to do its thing. I create watercolour and acrylic paintings that I sometimes give as gifts. As such, you’re free to interpret all of my offerings based on what you know about me.
I’m pretty open. Good friends know me quite well, quirks and flaws and all. Some people don’t know me well at all. They see the public-facing version of my story and believe that’s all there is. Somewhere in the middle are the friendly acquaintances who don’t know what they don’t know. They see me as an open book because I speak easily about painful subjects, including my own experiences.
It’s true. I’ll talk to just about anyone, and I share a lot.
What’s also true is that there are things even my closest friends don’t about me. There are parts of my story I don’t talk, write, or sing about. Sometimes that’s because the details feel unimportant to me as just another part of my story. Other times it’s because the feelings are too deep and raw; if I haven’t yet processed it enough to talk about it in a matter-of-fact manner, I’m unlikely to make it public.
I appreciate boundaries set by people who prefer privacy. I understand the experience of being cautious in sharing the details of your story, and the concept of keeping things to yourself.
I also have deep admiration for the courage of artists who show us their deep, raw pain. I’ve read memoirs, viewed art, and listened to music that reveal intimate details of the artist’s life story. I’m grateful because this art has taught me lessons about myself, too.
Sharing your art is a decision worthy of some consideration. Only you can make the final choice about whether to keep your art to yourself or put it out in the world to be witnessed.
Some questions to ask yourself before you share:
What does this art mean to me?
What do I hope this art will mean to others?
Do I feel compelled to make this art public?
Am I prepared to be misunderstood? Judged? Disliked?
Am I prepared to be accepted and admired?
Whatever your answers, you can trust yourself to make the best decision for your own art (and your own heart) every time you decide to share or not to share.
Next Up:
Songs to Breathe and Die to is a collection of 6 songs that touch on aspects of life, death, and grief. The full EP is scheduled to be released on May 11, 2025 and you’ll find it on Bandcamp first!
The first single was released April 9, 2025. We Say Goodbye, is a touching tribute to the experience of sitting bedside as someone you love is dying.
The second single, Rise and Shine, was released on April 15, 2025. It’s a cheerful singalong song intended to remind us that although there is pain and sorrow in life, there is also love and hope.
Want to celebrate this album with me in person? I’m hosting an EP release party and book launch from 1-4 pm at the Legion in Kingsville, Ontario on Saturday, June 21, 2025. It’s free, but to help me plan to have enough food and beverages, please RSVP to maureenpollardmsw@gmail.com. I’d love to see you there!