We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Ben Livingston a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Ben, first a big thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts and insights with us today. I’m sure many of our readers will benefit from your wisdom, and one of the areas where we think your insight might be most helpful is related to imposter syndrome. Imposter syndrome is holding so many people back from reaching their true and highest potential and so we’d love to hear about your journey and how you overcame imposter syndrome.
I never really got over imposter syndrome—I just invited it to dinner. Over time, I’ve realized it’s less of a personal flaw and more of a mind virus reflection of our western culture, one that’s obsessed with competition for hierarchy from building a better mousetrap, where the endless game of comparison breeds deep insecurity. But here’s the paradox: at the end of the day, no one is really an imposter, and yet we all are. Like it or not, each of us unwittingly crafts our identity through a singular, uniquely human act of counterfeiting—an original invention made of borrowed influences… The ability to turn imitation into something entirely our own is plenty to be proud of.
Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself, tell us about your brand and what excites you before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?
Wait a minute… “brand”?
Ugh, what a grotesque word when you consider its origins—literally burning one’s ownership into the flesh of commoditized nouns like animals and slaves. How can we embrace a term so rooted in dominance and dehumanization? I despise everything about that word.. Yuck!.
Even stripped of its history, the word reeks of hollow manipulation. These days, it’s become a catch-all for clever marketing schemes, a shiny facade hiding the same old game. And don’t get me started on its overuse in sentences containing worn out cliches like ‘our story’, ‘journey’, ‘authenticity,’ or ‘navigate’—words meant to convey depth but too often ring hollow when paired with such a transactional concept.
Talk about perfect fodder for imposter syndrome, it’s as if we’re expected to package our essence for public consumption, reducing our complexity to a logo, a tagline, or a curated image. The whole idea should make everyone instantly skeptical.
I digress…
Let me tell you about what truly excites me these days—it’s not about scaling new heights or chasing accolades, but rather the quiet, profound joy of a simpler life involuntarily deconstructed from a far more complex and busy one. Over the past seven years, my ambition for greatness has gracefully shrunk, making room for something far more meaningful: the sheer delight of year round daily morning swims in our neighborhood’s spring-fed swimming hole, along with being surrounded by my wife, friends, making music and art in the natural rhythm of just being.
I never really set out to make a killing as an artist. I was too busy carving out a life that was satisfying to me as my very own. Becoming an NEA fellow and achieving other milestones gave me moments of great pride, sure, but the real achievement for me lies in the way I’ve figured out how to live. Staying healthy, maintaining personal relationships and keeping my overhead low by building my studio and home. With wit, grit, love and my own two hands —I’ve created a lifestyle that puts quality of life miles above the constant grind for more.
Speaking of staying healthy, my connection to my swimming hole – Barton Springs, runs deep. I serve on the board of a nonprofit organization called SOS Alliance who’s dedicated to protecting her precious and delicate waters and ecosystem. Lately I like to make art inspired by that place, like a recent short, silent, slow-motion underwater film that’s filled with fluid movement and gorgeous bubbles and screens to a live score performed live in front of the audience by a brilliant pedal steel guitarist/composer.
Sure, I admit, there was a time when ambition consumed me. I’d get so fired up about the next rush of dopamine that I overlooked and even neglected the people and moments that really mattered. It’s a common trap: ambition masquerading as purpose, leading me further and further from myself. Luckily, experience has taught me to see more clearly through that illusion.
I imagine folks from my past think my life looks smaller now, but on the inside, it’s expansive—filled with connection, creativity, and the freedom to revel in the beauty of nature every single day. If there’s one masterpiece I’ve created, it’s a work in progress life that feels right for me and (when I’m not taking it all for granted LOL!) alive with joy!
If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?
#1. Maintaining high quality relationships with yourself and other loved ones!!!
2. Going is knowing.
Explore the myriad of uncharted territories in a world built on a tradition of blending in—whether inventing an opalescent color palette for neon, creating an underwater film or writing songs about whatever’s on my mind—whatever the case, I know that stretching out my proverbial hamstrings and being on to something like a rat terrier is so much fun and all the while, in spite of myself, I suppose I’m unwittingly carving out some kind of personal identity.
A while back the TLC network and I made a really goofy “reality show” (spoiler alert – no reality here) about my life as a frugal neon artist. https://www.youtube.com/watch?
If I’m interested in something, I’ve always been automatically compelled to reach out and learn as much as I could from masters and folks I respect. I’d sweep their floors to get close to them. Early on, my mentor-to-be, Stephen Antonakos, told me: “Ben, just do YOUR work”. Little did I know the meaning of that would take most of my lifetime to figure out and this was a huge ingredient in the process.
3. Connection to Purpose
Whether it’s love for my people, art, music, or advocacy for watershed protection, My work is deeply connected to my ever evolving values and passion du jour. This sense of purpose and fun grounds my life and creativity and gives me direction, even though I’m all over the place half the time..
I spend time listening and thinking about what really moves me—until I feel it in my gut. When what you’re doing comes from that place, you’ll see it naturally stirs you to initiate and others to take notice.
4. Resilience and Adaptability
From negotiating with imposter syndrome to finding a sustainable lifestyle, even as a natural born quitter, at the end of the day, my life on average reflects resilience. I’ve adapted my ambitions to prioritize quality of life, proving that success isn’t always about scaling up—it’s about finding satisfaction on your own terms. And when the doldrums leave you stranded out at sea, resilience will help you weather the challenges that will inevitably come.
Metaphorically, We’re all walking to San Antonio… sooner or later everybody’s going to get there.
And here’s a song for you about just that.. Enjoy!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?
If you knew you only had a decade of life left, how would you spend that decade?
I’ve never really talked about this before, so here goes:
As far as I’m concerned, I am living deep in that decade right now.
For as long as I can remember, the act of creating something—whether it’s making up a funny scenario, making art or music or some other kind of problem solving—has been my salvation and refuge. It has offered me a powerful means of distraction and catharsis throughout my circuitous and often lonely trek of having FSHD (Facioscapulohumeral Muscular Dystrophy).
My story with FSHD began more than three decades ago, innocuously, as a nagging neck ache and the painful, unsettling sensation that my collarbone was always on the verge of popping out of joint. This was just after my first solo museum show in the fall of 1991.
Looking back, it seems like FSHD has just been part of my life, riding shotgun for what seems like forever, quietly and not so quietly influencing me and my work in ways I didn’t recognize before its onset. I think about a series of paintings I made in 1991—highly prophetic works like Last Year’s Model, How I Decided Not to Move to New York City, and Trust Your Equipment. These allegorical paintings eerily foreshadowed the twists and challenges that lay ahead, well before I ever even noticed any symptoms.
It was 1995 when the neurologist’s diagnosis crashed through me like a ball and chain. Not too long afterwards I collapsed into a grief-stricken depression, mourning not just the life I had before, but now my diminished present that I feared I’d tragically lose in the future, deeply dreading becoming a burden to others. Yet somehow, through fact finding and sheer luck—whatever that means— I found my way to a salvation in practicing the ancient Chinese art of Qigong and lots of cognitive therapy, realizing that my psychological stability was just as much a house of cards as the fragile physicality I’d been propping up just to get me to the next big thing.
One thing I did know about myself is that when I’m visualizing a new idea or manifesting something tangible, I feel that my life is busy, that I’m a creature with a purpose and back then that was my #1 and only raison d’être.
Suddenly that wasn’t enough anymore, it was clearly time to grow up. It felt like I was at the bottom anyway so it was as good a time as ever to start to build myself a solid foundation.
Living with FSHD has forced me to confront parts of myself I might never have explored otherwise. It’s like standing at the precipice of something totally terrifying, so uncertain, and raw—but in that space, there’s potential for lots of discovery. To me now, this is art in its purest form: not imitation, not replication, but transformation. Losing so much of what I once worked for has been painful to be sure, but it’s also given me something unexpected— lower expectations and gratitude for life as it comes… At least when I’m not freaking out about the small stuff.
Thankfully my FSHD has progressed slowly and symptomatic spikes since my diagnosis have so far, been mercifully gentle.
Throughout it all, nature and music have been my spiritual lifeline. Like my paintings, song writing allows me to solve problems and express emotions in ways that feel meaningful. And of course immersing myself in nature ties everything together
Music and FSHD..
Career and fun-wise, my big art and music break came in 1993 when the National Endowment for the Arts awarded me a rare fellowship. And with that soon came a solo exhibit. My friend Chris Layton—Stevie Ray Vaughan’s drummer—convinced me to perform my original songs at the opening. He said laughing: “Hell, why not? You’ll have a captive audience!”
I had no idea how exhilarating performing music could be until that night. I remember someone in the audience shouting “You look like you’re breathing pure oxygen!”
That performance opened the door to another wonderful music opportunity: opening for the great Terry Allen and Joe Ely at a nearby auditorium. Talk about pure oxygen! I felt like I was hyperventilating the best night of my life on that stage.
Fast forward a decade, I recorded my first EP, a four-song record. It didn’t make much of a splash, but I loved collaborating with a studio and producer and vowed to do it again.
Five years later, after traveling extensively through Southeast Asia studying “spirit houses”, I needed a break from writing a book about my discoveries so I returned to songwriting. Compared to writing a book, creating a song felt liberating—simple, almost effortless.
That performance and those songs inspired me to form a band for another solo art opening, this time at the legendary Continental Club Gallery during SXSW. Suddenly, I was performing at one of Austin’s most iconic venues during the world’s premier music festival. This totally stoked me to get back in the studio and producer to create a full-length album, Trust Your Equipment – Greatest Hits, Volume #2, which by hook and crook hit #3 on the Texas charts!
We were having so much fun surfing our little wave of popularity, we played nonstop around Austin and Central Texas. I was managing the band and saw us gaining traction. I became obsessed with understanding what it meant to be a professional musician. I thought the art world was tough, oh man, the music biz is a whole new level of grind.
All the while, my body reminded me of its frailty. By this time, in my mid-50s, I was noticeably weaker, haunted by the neurologist’s shockingly grim prognosis: “By 60, Ben might be in a wheelchair but will probably still be able to swallow”.
Nights were hard, especially when weak muscles and joint pain made just pulling a blanket over myself a tough task. That’s when the worrying would set in and haunt me for hours.
Still, I pressed on, performing for six years, culminating in shows in New York City—an absolute dream for a small town kid from south Texas. But admittedly after all that, when I got home, I was totally exhausted—not from performing, which energized me, but from the Herculean effort it took to make those performances happen.
Now, eight years later, I’m much stronger from long walks and swimming a 1/2 mile most days all year round. I’m also back at it with a new band and an exciting collaboration with a fine poet friend in New Zealand. This time, I’m just focused on making art and music and sharing it through performance, for the sheer love of it—no marketing, no managing. Just the trance of dancing with the muse is plenty for me. My shoulders aren’t what they used to be so keeping up with high-energy tunes is a challenge, but I’ll keep going until fate breaks my stride.
True art (fill in the blank) is a pathless land, a breathless confrontation with vulnerability, peril, and our smallness. Yet in that rawness, there’s discovery—a redemptive act that stirs the soul. Be it relationships, making a song or work of art, whatever form that thing might take, I can only hope others see in my work, the sublime in their own blood, reflected back, letting them know they’re very much alive and not alone in this world.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://benlivingston.com
- Instagram: https://www.facebook.com/
profile.php?id=100057485478782 - Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/
profile.php?id=100058956733502 - Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=2Xq3K0HPXQc&t=11s - Other: My Miracle at Barton Springs video story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=2Xq3K0HPXQc&t=11s
Image Credits
The Answer
Charles Davis Smith – FAIA
Winchester Cathedral
Paul Bardagjy
There the Roses Get Red
Carrington Weems III
so if you or someone you know deserves recognition please let us know here.
