Fear Limits Our Creativity
How do you push through?
I've been wrestling with a question lately that keeps coming back to me: What limits our creativity? After much reflection, I've come to realize that for me—and probably for many others—the biggest limiter is fear.
Sure, you might say your creativity is limited because you don't have access to certain resources or can't do specific things. But when you dig deeper, there's often an underlying fear holding you back from pushing through those obstacles. While some circumstances are genuinely beyond our control, fear tends to be the primary culprit.
This fear can manifest in various ways. There's the fear of trying something new—whether it's a different method, art form, or approach. There's the fear of failure: What if I can't do it? What if I can't figure it out? What if I invest all this time and it doesn't work out? What if it's not any good? Then there's the fear of external judgment: people telling you you're crazy for trying, naysayers doubting your abilities, and the gatekeepers in creative fields who seem to hold all the keys to access and acceptance.
My Journey with Photography
My own creative journey started in a high school photography class in the early 2000s. I had no prior experience beyond using disposable cameras for family events. But that class—working with 35mm film cameras, developing our own film, and making enlargements in the darkroom—sparked something in me. We had a passionate teacher who encouraged experimentation with techniques like long exposure and light painting. It was pure fun.
After graduating, I went a while without a camera until I got my hands on a basic digital model during a camping trip. That experience reignited my love for photography, and I quickly upgraded to a camera with manual controls. What followed were years of pure experimentation and play. This was before social media took over, so I simply posted my work on a personal website for friends. I felt free to get weird with my photography, unconstrained by external expectations.
But then social media crept in, bringing with it all these unspoken "shoulds" about creative work. The turning point came during a trip to some iconic locations with a friend. After returning home, I saw a commercial featuring one of the spots we'd visited, and for a brief moment, I thought they'd used my photo—only to realize I'd taken the exact same shot everyone takes there. Despite trying to avoid looking at other photos of the location beforehand, I'd still ended up creating the same image as everyone else.
That's when it hit me: I wasn't being creative anymore. I was simply executing technical exercises. While there's nothing wrong with that, I realized I got the most joy from the creative process itself. This revelation set me on a path to rediscover my creativity.
Finding My Way Back
I started by disconnecting from social media—removing the apps from my phone and stopping the endless scroll of trending images. Instead, I immersed myself in art books and photography from different eras, deliberately expanding my field of influence beyond what was popular online. This shift helped jolt something loose in my brain, returning me to that original mindset of pure creation I had when I first started.
Now, I've embarked on a new project that pushes me even further. It combines photography with digital collage, mixed media on plywood, acrylic paint, spray paint, and written messages. I'm letting ideas flow naturally, trusting my instincts rather than trying to replicate something I've seen elsewhere. The work has become deeply personal. It's raw and honest in a way my previous work wasn't.
Looking at these pieces, I find myself wondering: Why did it take me 20 years to reach this point? Why am I only now creating work that feels truly meaningful and emotionally connected? While I love all the photography I've done, much of it was primarily aesthetic. This new work feels different—it's hitting something deeper, even if it might not resonate with anyone else.
The Role of Fear
My takeaway is that I've been playing it safe, worried about making people uncomfortable—particularly people from my small town Midwestern background where art meant moose paintings or scenic landscapes. Growing up without exposure to diverse artistic expressions, it took years for me to embrace the "weird" art that actually excited me.
But turning 40 brought an unexpected gift: the liberating realization that most people aren't paying attention to what you're doing. It's become clear to me how little time we have to waste worrying about others' judgments. Nothing feels better than creating work that's true to who you are. It's the most relieved I've ever felt creatively, like a weight being lifted off my shoulders.
Moving Forward
I'm still terrified about sharing some of this new work publicly—that's a hurdle I'm still working to overcome. But even just being honest with myself, letting out what's inside without fear, has been incredibly freeing. If you're in a similar position, I encourage you to explore what's holding you back. Let go of the fear, even just a little, and see what happens. You might be surprised by what you discover.
I believe you need to stay 'weird' and keep doing crazy stuff.
I'm glad you are sharing your work here - at least it encourages me as well to just do whatever I want. Cheers!