Do I Really Need to Explain Myself?

There’s an interesting relationship between confidence, perception, and the way we present ourselves. Especially when you’re selling something.

You don’t necessarily sell a house by showing up looking insecure or uncertain about what you’re offering. You sell it with confidence, presentation, and an understanding of what you’re bringing to the table. Sometimes you even show up in a really nice Jaguar. That’s part of the business.

Living and working in Palm Springs, I’m surrounded by an atmosphere of luxury, beautiful homes, expensive cars, impressive hotels, and people who seem very comfortable in that world. As an artist, I’m influenced by that environment. I appreciate the architecture, the mid-century modern aesthetic, the atmosphere, and the lifestyle. I don’t necessarily have the wealth I see around me, but I certainly appreciate the surroundings.

It also makes me wonder how much of success is presentation and how much is reality.

I recently made a delivery to one of the upscale hotels in Palm Springs. Three bellmen opened these enormous doors, and the courtyard looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. There were chessboards, little rabbits hopping around, and an atmosphere of absolute luxury. I was there delivering a Walmart package and collecting thirteen dollars.

The entire process of delivering the package was almost as entertaining as the surroundings. There were procedures, guest privacy, a concierge, and a very formal introduction. Even something as ordinary as a package from Walmart became a little production.

It reminded me of something I’d read about Payless shoe stores. They once presented inexpensive shoes in an elaborate, high-end shopping environment, with some priced at hundreds of dollars. People bought into the experience because they believed they were purchasing something exclusive. The shoes hadn’t changed. The perception had.

And that brings me back to being an artist.

How much of what I do is about the paintings, and how much is about the way I present myself? Do I need to project an image of success? Do I need to appear more established, more sophisticated, or more confident than I actually feel? Am I trying to sell myself as something I’m not?

There’s a difference between presenting your work with confidence and creating an illusion around yourself.

I’ve talked quite a bit about insecurity, confidence, and the challenges of being an artist. But do I really need to explain all of that to someone who’s considering buying a painting? Do I want potential customers to know every uncertainty or financial challenge that comes with making a living as an artist?

Probably not.

But that doesn’t mean I need to manufacture some high-end personality, either.

I think there’s something to be said for recognizing your own value. My mind is worth millions. Not necessarily because of what I’ve accumulated, but because of what I’m capable of creating. Ideas have a way of opening doors, and sometimes the most valuable opportunities are the ones you haven’t even considered yet.

I don’t believe opportunity is confined to a particular place, income level, or lifestyle. Sometimes it shows up in the most unexpected circumstances. A conversation, a painting, a chance encounter, or an idea can lead somewhere entirely different. There’s something liberating about recognizing that possibility rather than constantly worrying about what isn’t there.

I often think about Vincent van Gogh. Here’s an artist whose authenticity is practically inseparable from his work. I wonder how much time he spent thinking about how he was perceived as an artist, or whether he needed to explain his artistic philosophy to everyone. He painted, wrote letters, experienced life, and worked through his ideas. We have spent generations trying to understand him.

Did he need fifty blog posts explaining what it meant to be Vincent van Gogh?

Probably not.

And maybe that’s where I need to be careful. There’s a tendency to analyze everything, including the very things that make us who we are. Am I an insecure artist? A confident artist? Am I trying to establish an identity, or am I simply trying to understand myself and the work I do?

Maybe I don’t need to decipher everything.

I enjoy writing about these things. I enjoy looking at situations, finding the humor in them, and making connections that I might not have considered otherwise. That’s part of being creative, too.

And here’s something that would be funny.

Imagine writing fifty blogs, putting all these thoughts and experiences out there, and one day somebody says, “I read your blog. I really connected with what you said about this or that. It made me laugh. I enjoyed your perspective.”

And then they buy a painting.

Well, I’ll be damned. Fifty blogs later, somebody actually bought a painting!

Maybe that’s the point. I’m not necessarily writing to convince somebody I’m an important artist, or to create some elaborate perception of success. I’m just sharing how I see things. If somebody connects with that, great. If it introduces them to my paintings, even better.

There’s a certain freedom in not having to force everything. I can enjoy what I do, trust my instincts, recognize opportunities, and remain open to wherever they might lead. I don’t have to chase every possibility because sometimes the right ones find their way to me.

And perhaps that’s another form of confidence: knowing that my next opportunity doesn’t necessarily have to come from where I expect it.

Maybe the best way to present yourself is simply to be comfortable with who you are, believe in what you bring to the world, and let people discover the rest.

And who knows? Maybe the next person who walks through those twenty-foot doors isn’t delivering a Walmart package. Maybe they’re coming to buy a painting.