Melinda R. Smith’s Stories, Lessons & Insights

Melinda R. Smith shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Melinda R., a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What’s more important to you—intelligence, energy, or integrity?
That’s an easy one. Integrity. Integrity is a person’s scaffolding, her armature, her foundation. Without it, energy and intelligence would potentially only be tools in the service of actions lacking in integrity, and the world does not need more of that. Besides, energy waxes and wanes, and intelligence, I’ve noticed, changes over time. I often say that I’m not as intelligent as I used to be, but I’m not quite sure I mean that (at least I hope I don’t!). I think my intelligence and what piques my curiosity and desire to learn has transformed as I’ve gotten older. Maybe I’m more quietly intelligent than I used to be. At any rate, integrity is the quality I value most in myself—it’s one’s silent personal guide and guardian, and it works all on its own, subconsciously; if you possess integrity, you don’t need to think about how to employ it; it just is, it’s just there. I also value it in others. At my age, I’ll have nothing more to do with people who don’t have integrity, and you can pretty easily determine who has it and who doesn’t. Integrity is the whole, unfractured self, and it acts on behalf of what is right and good.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m an artist—a painter and (mostly former) writer, and I’ve been in the thrall of the muse my entire life. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t, although as a child, I would not have called it the muse. For whatever reason, I was lucky enough to carry my child’s sense of play with me into adulthood, which I personally consider necessary to being an artist of the nonacademic sort—a muse-driven artist, one who makes art because she must, because she’d wither and die if she didn’t. My work is play, and if it isn’t, there’s something off kilter in my practice. Which isn’t to say my work isn’t work as well—it is, and it’s sometimes very hard work—but at its core, it’s born of childlike playfulness.

I’m entirely self-taught and glad of it. As I’ve often stated, it’s much easier to learn something than it is to unlearn it, and, were I not self-taught, I would have to unlearn all the lessons drummed into me in art school. That said, of course I recognize the value of art school as well, and there are certainly a few things I do wish I’d had instruction in, but oh, well. I have my style, I like it, and I enjoy watching its development over time. There’s a satisfaction in knowing that it’s all come from me and my strong will to master the skills on my own. To see how far I’ve come from being a not-very-good artist to a good artist to sometimes, in my opinion, even a great artist is enormously satisfying, for it speaks to my determination, perseverance and faith in my own abilities.

I came to painting rather late in life (mid-40s), and it was pretty shocking when it happened. Prior to that, I was a writer through and through—a poet primarily—and although I secretly envied painters and wanted to be one, I never thought I’d actually become one. I’d wanted to be a writer since I was seven. As I naturally seemed to grow further and further away from poetry (there’s a not uncommon belief that poetry is a young person’s game, and, in my own experience, that was true), I drew closer and closer to visual art, until one day, I decided to quit writing altogether and focus entirely on visual art. It was the biggest and most unexpected swerve of my life. And even in the beginning, when I wasn’t very good, when I was learning all the tools and materials of the trade (in my opinion, that’s the biggest part of learning; the je ne sais quoi of art can’t be learned), I knew, I just knew at the very bottom of myself that I was going to be good, I only had to get there. Getting there meant one thing only: working hard. Good thing I was taught through the example of my parents to have an excellent work ethic. It really is the only way to truly achieve anything in this life, is to work hard and to persevere. Also, you have to be willing to do battle with the demons in your head that like to tell you that you should quit, that you’ll never be able to do whatever it is you’re trying to do, you have to be willing to battle them and you need to vanquish them—over and over and over again. It really is a battle. But when you win it, it’s very rewarding!

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
The world never told me I had to be anything. I was whom I wanted to be. Always. I was a latecomer to my family, an unexpected addition, and although my parents were loving and supportive of me, and they provided me with a safe and stable home, it’s quite possible they were also just ever-so-slightly over the whole parenting-young-children thing, so I was left to my own devices a lot, with older siblings who had their own lives by then, and I think this contributed to my knowing myself so early on. I lived in and for my imagination, and, quite honestly, I still do. I’m very close to my family, and I often think that I was born exactly into the right one in order to become whom I was meant to become: myself, precisely as I imagined her.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Everything I’m going to say is pretty cliche, but of course it taught me strength. Of course it caused me to grow. Of course it provides the richest ground for self-knowledge and, again, growth. But you can’t evade it. You have to sit in it. You have feel it fully, embrace it, even. You can’t want to get away from it, because if you avoid it, it will only return. Study yourself inside of it, understand it, and develop a willingness to have it be there, knowing that it will change you for the better. Let it be your teacher, and it will teach you things you never would have learned without it. And by “suffering” I suppose I’m referring more to psychological suffering, or the suffering caused by repeated patterns and ruts. I would never presume to talk about the kind of suffering many people have the misfortune to experience, either through war or other kinds of catastrophe, things way beyond a person’s control. I don’t doubt that sort of suffering also causes growth—tremendous growth, probably—but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone and certainly can’t speak to it.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What’s a belief you used to hold tightly but now think was naive or wrong?
I used to believe that loyalty was one of the most important and stellar qualities a person could possess. As a Scorpio, I suppose this came naturally to me. I am, after all, a deeply loyal person. However, I no longer view it as the end-all and be-all of attributes. I’ve learned that loyalty can sometimes actually be detrimental. At a certain point in my life, I began to notice that some of my loyalties were woefully misplaced. I was loyal to people who didn’t deserve it. Loyal to users and to people who were only interested in their own gain, etc, and who were not the slightest bit loyal in return. My belief in the value of loyalty blinded me to that. It was kind of a blow to my sense of self when I saw how insanely naive my ideas about loyalty were. I still think it’s a valuable quality, but I also now know that it has to come with discernment, which, for many years when I was young, I did not possess.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. Could you give everything your best, even if no one ever praised you for it?
I do, every day. Being an artist is a lonely business, if you’re not also a self-promoter and extrovert. I’m an introvert who only wants to make art. Who loves being alone in her studio more than anything in the world. I don’t seek out the world’s praise or approval. If I get it, it’s wonderful. But it’s also very rare, and my efforts and successes don’t often get acknowledged. I’m self-propelled. I do my best in my work every day because why else do it? I can’t imagine going to the studio without the intention of doing better work today than I did yesterday. That makes no sense to me. And since there’s never anybody there to say, “Well done,” I say it to myself: “Well done!” (If it is well done. If it’s not, I can be pretty hard on myself, but that just makes me try harder.) Acknowleging my own efforts is enough—it has to be.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.melindarsmith.com
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