I'm Not an Artist. Or Am I?

“I’m not an artist.”

Since I was a small child, this has always been the narrative I’ve told myself.

My Egyptian parents and grandparents, educated in French Lycées in Cairo, were taught the fundamentals of “great art,” as being very much rooted in 18th and 19th-century Europe —technical mastery, precision, symphonic complexity.

The great artists my parents and grandparents revered — impressionist painters, classical composers, ballet dancers — all seemed to possess a level of technical precision and innate “born with it” talent that felt worlds away from my own reality.

My kindergarten sketches inspired more lips-pressed-together-in-politeness nods than “Wow, a budding artist!” quips from my teachers. Even now, if I attempted to sketch the simplest stick-figure cat, it wouldn’t look that different from what I drew back then. You’d likely be asking yourself, “Is that a cat? A horse? A cow?”

My mind back then, and still now, was like a flittering butterfly or hummingbird — always on the move, contemplating big questions like why is peace on earth so difficult for adults, why couldn't we end war and poverty with all the resources we have, when were the aliens coming, and would time travel ever be possible. It was exhausting as a child, trying to process these enormous questions without the ability to calm my mind long enough to color inside the lines, let alone draw the lines myself.

But I’m Left-Handed! Dam* it!

Someone once described watching me think as seeing smoke rise from my head — there was always so much going on. I dreamed of having that innate artistic or musical talent so I could lose myself in something creative. If I could just translate all those swirling thoughts into something beautiful and abstract then maybe I could finally quiet that motor for a moment and even express my big ideas and solutions in ways that were easier for others to understand.

But, instead I’d get so frustrated every time I picked up an instrument or a paintbrush. I was left-handed! Weren’t we supposed to be more artistic? The frustration built until I completely let go of the idea of being an artist. By the time childhood slipped away, any notion of even doing art or music as a hobby vanished, and I firmly labeled myself as NOT an artist.

Discovering My Creative Self

Over the years, friends, guides, and teachers have told me that there’s an artist locked within all of us — an inner child artist who hasn’t had the chance to break free.

Years ago, I was encouraged to read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which assures us that we are all artists — we just have to rediscover that part of ourselves.

With their encouragement, I began to see that maybe my creativity shows up in different ways. I see patterns — not in numbers or lines on a canvas, but in relationships, in history, in people, in systems, and in the collective.

I see how elements fit together over time, how cycles repeat, how dynamics play out on both personal and societal levels. My creativity lies in understanding these systems and finding ways to connect the dots or reimagine what’s possible. It may not look like traditional “art,” but according to my friends and colleagues it was creativity none the less.?

Still, they pushed me further to pick up the paint brush to wonder if there was more waiting to come alive. Maybe there was an artist inside me, one who could express herself in more visual ways, a part of me that could work from instinct, from the heart, rather than constantly from the mind. Over the last two years, I started dabbling in art - trying hard to not take myself too seriously or let my VERY critical mind dissuade my attempts. I started creating a series I like to call "Into the Universe." It was abstract and not perfect but was colorful and fun. I was getting lost in it and finding joy. I also went through a very hilarious phase of painting any rock I could get my hands on.

A few months ago, I decided to dive in a bit deeper. My former colleague and friend Jodi Pincus had just taken on the role of Executive Director at the San Miguel's Writers Conference and asked if I wanted to come check it out, work remotely, and help organize volunteers for the conference in February.

So I packed my bags and decided to spend the next 12-14 weeks in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico a town known for attracting artists from around the world.

Who Is an Artist, Anyway?

I came with a notion. I would actually DO the Artist’s Way this time, surrounded by artists, and get involved in creative pursuits here in San Miguel. Maybe THAT would really unlock my inner artist.

So, it felt almost ironic that a few weeks ago, at a panel here in San Miguel, I listened to a group of creatives—a novelist, a ballet dancer, a voiceover artist — sharing their thoughts on creativity and their process. When Jodi asked them, “So, who is an artist?” their answers were far less certain than I expected.

The discussion danced around themes of function versus aesthetic, technique versus expression, apprenticeship and even classic cannon and legacy. There was no “everyone’s an artist” answer, no Julia Cameron-esque “inner artist child” reassurance.

Instead, their words reminded me a little too much of the art I grew up with — art was exclusive, precise, and elusive. Their responses left me thinking, “Of course, I’m not an artist. Just look at these brilliant, naturally artistic minds on stage.”

I’d come to San Miguel de Allende hoping for a creative renaissance, but here I was, feeling more uncertain than ever about my decision to spend a few months in this city, attempting to discover my “inner artist” and explore all the creative inspiration that San Miguel offers.

Embracing the Journey Anyway

I decided to put aside the doubt that had stirred up inside me.

Jodi and I discussed how some of the definitions we heard that day could exclude forms of art that don’t fit into the “art history” defined by the West. What about art, song, and storytelling passed down through generations of indigenous communities? Or freestyle art born out of resistance?

Sometimes, when we try to put rigid rules around art, we lose its essence.

Take the recent fiasco with breakdancing at the Olympics: when they tried to turn something as expressive as breakdancing into a technically judged sport, it backfired. In trying to measure breakdancing by rigid standards, it ended up missing what makes it powerful in the first place.

The Artist's Way: An Invitation?

Truthfully, I’ve attempted to work through The Artist’s Way at least a dozen times, and each time, I’ve stalled around week two. There was always an excuse—a looming deadline, life getting in the way, or maybe a little voice in my head whispering that I wasn’t a “real” artist anyway.

With the San Miguel Writers Conference on the horizon, I thought this would be the perfect time to give it another go and perhaps encourage a few others to join me. There’s nothing like accountability partners, right? It’s also why I decided to share the journey here for others to join if they want.

I’ll be working through The Artist’s Way over the next 12 weeks leading up to the San Miguel Writers Conference, which takes place here in beautiful San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, from February 12–16. I will start next week, and will be sharing weekly prompts for folks who want to follow along or join in. (I do recommend buying the book as there is a wealth of information for each week leading up to the activities).

If you’re curious—whether you’re looking to create, reconnect, or just find a bit more joy in the everyday—I’d love for you to join in.

Let’s see if together we can redefine what it means to be an artist, explore what creativity looks like for each of us, and maybe even find some surprising pieces of ourselves along the way.