How do you keep up a studio practice when you’re depressed?

I’ve been struggling with depression on and off for the past decade or more. But there are times when I am not at all depressed. These two aspects of myself has been at war, each side trying to convince the other side that they shouldn’t exist. The depressed side of me thinks I should just give up making art and just live a simple and boring life because that’s all I’m capable of maintaining. The excited side of me thinks it can beat the depression. It says, when activated, “this is how I am now! this is how I want to be all the time!” In those moments I think that my depression is something that I can permanently cure. But then I crash and can’t keep up with any of the grand plans that I made when I was feeling well. It was a destructive cycle I am working to change.

My studio practice need to be the truce between these two extremes. Rather than designing my artistic life for the energetic side of me, or giving up art all together, I need to accept that I do want to make art, and that some days that will be hard. My depressed self should feel just as welcome in the studio with her low energy and Eeyore mood as my motivated self. My studio practice needs to honor what each side has to contribute. Both sides of me have value. Both sides can also be destructive.

It is important to honor what our depressed selves have to offer and to respect and appreciate what we are able to contribute to our creative life when our energy and motivation are low. I often see the advice that you should commit to being in your studio each day, even if you are not making art. When I am depressed or have no energy or am in pain, I am able to look through books, watch videos, learn about artists. In the past, these activities would invite comparisons that would make my depression worse. If that feels like it is happening, I can just be in there, breathing. I can put a few things away, change out the water, clear a space. These are valuable activities. I can take a moment to remember that it will pass, that it isn’t a time to make decisions about my abilities or future. I am not well. I need to be gentle.

I can be willing. I can be willing to be willing. Those two sentences have been the most powerful concepts in my recovery from depression. At its worst, my depression is stubborn, determined to prove how awful I feel by being incapable of anything. But being willing to be willing to feel better has softened that stubbornness. It helps me to shift from wanting to burn it all down to perhaps being willing to put a few brushes away or throw away some scraps. Just that tiniest action can completely shift everything. Or make it easier to return the next day, no damage done.