Are you an Artist? Navigating your creative identity

An unexpected question challenged how I see myself, prompting a look at what truly defines a creative path

I record these voiceovers outdoors so you get to feel this place.

Just a few days ago, a casual encounter in the quiet of the woods sparked a profound exploration: 'Am I an artist?'

Greetings from the moss,

June is racing on a stiff breeze (the present day euphemism for ‘wind’) towards the summer solstice, the light stretching out long and lithe as if awaking from slumber.

Enter the woods and it seems unnaturally green, which makes the outriders—invasive pink Rhododendron ponticum—even more shocking. Admittedly a wide aperture on a macro lens can render the flowers more seductive as they shimmy in that restless air.

There are white pom-poms too; the seed heads of Hare’s tail cotton grass now a little less fluffy, a little more subdued, after the rain.

And the asphodel, as I described it last year, are ‘blading up’ to spear raindrops and seeds alike.

Are you an artist?

“Are you an artist?” a lady walking her two dogs asks. I thought I knew the answer…

The question came so suddenly, so out of the blue, that it took me precious seconds to even realise what I had just been asked. It's probably the last question I expected anyone to ask me here; I'm just somebody out with a camera. And then, what to say? I couldn't actually get the words out. So we settled on ‘photographer’.

Was I more surprised by the question, or my inability to answer it? We've all prepped for these moments but now I am left wondering: am I? On paper, in pixel, it's easy—I express, I share; there's connection. Within the physical realm, I haven’t exhibited my work for some time; I don't even particularly have an ambition to do so. I don't actively try to sell. I've been around that circle. And for the last few years I've been happy just to explore creativity, see where it takes me, and once again, let my work evolve. Which is what took me to being an artist in the first place. And at the back of my mind. as a deer speeds by, are Seth Godin's words¹ on shipping creativity. I couldn't get quite past the idea that if you weren't shipping, you weren't creative. So now I'm puzzled; I'm puzzling. It's thrown me off my stride a little. I don't often meet people when I'm out, less often have conversations of more than a passing greeting. So am I. Am I still an artist? And does it matter? Like everything else, it's a label. I do what I do, I'm motivated to share it. And if it brings a little joy into someone else's day, into your day... that's enough.

Ironically I’ve spent more time sketching this week than photographing, not that this matters. Ist or er: I could expand on where we draw the line between labels, but my mind is unwilling. Suffice to say that whatever the tool, whatever material, it is the message, the evocation, rather than the medium that in my view nudges one way or the other. And sometimes perhaps it comes down to mood, and whether the muses rest with you on that particular occasion. There may be times when we are fluent, and fallow periods of apparent muteness; they all take you a little further along your own path.

Thank you for visiting the moss with me. I value each and every like, comment and share, and recommendation for my weekly letters. I hope that this one has brightened your day a little.

Until next week I, and the birds in the woods, wish you happy travels,

If you enjoy what I share, a lovely way to say ‘thank you’ is to make a small donation here. To those of you who have, my heartfelt gratitude.

PostScript

This week, two photography shares which nicely overlap on the matters of noticing, interpretation and evocation.

A Photographer’s Wish by

Davor Katusic

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“That day I was asked what I would wish for.”

Perhaps another question to contemplate on the path through the woods.

Can a Photograph be like a Haiku? by

Shital Morjaria (she/her)

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“Sometimes when I am absorbed in the act of photography, I have to remind myself about haiku – how it does not explain or justify, but just observes. It captures fleeting moments and then just waits for the import of those moments to sink in. I like to think of my photography doing the same.”

Words and images copyright © Michela Griffith 2025 except where otherwise credited

1. Godwin, S. (2020) The Practice: Shipping Creative Work, Penguin Business