Reinvention

I encountered someone recently who had reinvented herself. I was back on Instagram for a couple of weeks to scratch an itch. As I was scrolling and liking posts, I saw an artist I wasn’t familiar with.

“Huh,” I said to myself, “This color palette is very similar to another artist I already follow. Come to think of it, the username looks familiar too.” But it couldn’t be the same artist, surely. She had a very manga/pretty girl style. This illustration was of a pretty girl, true, but it was more like a classic fairytale. Like something you’d see in a book from your childhood. I clicked on the username and went to her page. I scrolled down and saw something extraordinary. It WAS her.

She had, in the time I’d been away, radically changed her style. I was floored. I saw artists honing their talents all the time. Refining and being more proficient with their work. I’d never seen one completely reinvent themselves to the point it looked like an entirely different person had created the art.

“She is so popular. I wonder if there’s been any pushback from her fans.” I clicked on the comment sections. Amazing. There were plenty of, “I liked your old style more.” However, most of these statements followed with praise for staying true to herself. Despite changing her art radically, people accepted and appreciated it. Other comments raved; they loved the new look.

I’m happy for her. More than that, I’m grateful I was on to see it. Often as an artist, I’m stuck on the idea that I’m beholden to being just one thing or another. I’m Sara the artist who does pinups. Sara the writer. Changing something I’ve done for years makes me feel vaguely unwell. But dammit, I respect people who do. I respect her. I’m going to give myself the same grace. To reinvent myself when needed, or just because it makes my soul sing. Because I am human. Ever-changing. That’s the real art, no matter the medium.