ARTfelt Confessions

Friday, Oct. 22, 1999 | 9:04 a.m.

After wandering into an A.R.T.S. Anonymous meeting in San Diego nine years ago, Carole A. (last name withheld by request) was so inspired that she quit her job, moved into a pink trailer on an avocado orchard and began selling her handmade children's books door to door.

Although she had to sell at least $13 worth of books each day -- the books were $2.50 apiece -- to make her daily rent, plus a little extra to go to Kinko's Copies the next morning to make more books, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

"It was the most incredible experience of my life," Carole, 52, said. "I thought, 'Why should I be selling someone else's products when I could sell my own?' It gave me so much strength to realize ... I can do this."

Modeled after Alcoholics Anonymous, the 12-step program A.R.T.S. Anonymous (Artists Recovering through the Twelve Steps) helps struggling artists work through their woes.

It's no joke. Starving artists, crushed comediennes, worried writers and frustrated painters meet others in an open forum to emotionally lift each other and themselves by validating their needs.

Some learn to accept themselves after a lifetime of stifling their creative tendencies. Others may have isolated themselves for the sake of creating their art and need the social interaction. Some, such as Carole A., learn to trust their creative instincts.

The program originated in New York City. It now spans 36 states and 10 countries. Like Alcoholics Anonymous, there are 12 steps, 12 traditions and 12 traits.

Carole A. recently began the Las Vegas chapter of A.R.T.S. Anonymous. The weekly turnout varies, she said, averaging about four or five people."We've had 40 to 50 people come through (since its inception) but we don't have a core group yet," she said.

The 12 traits of A.R.T.S. Anonymous include: ambivalence about artistic expression from people who grew up in an atmosphere of invalidation; finding ways in any 24-hour period (consciously or unconsciously) to avoid doing what gives one the most joy -- expressing creativity; creative energy that has been diverted into destructive compulsions; fear of creative energy; and mistrust of creative instincts.

At the age of 40, Carole A. said she was still trying to get approval from her mother. Then the empowering words of a complete stranger led her to pull out her ecology-based children's books that had been in storage for 20 years and begin working on them again. She managed to sell 400 books and more than 200 color prints.

"If I don't say I'm an artist, nobody else is going to say it," she said.

That is why A.R.T.S. Anonymous members introduce themselves at meetings in the A.A. fashion, substituting "alcoholic" with "multitalented person, a sculptor, an actress."

"Saying that in itself is validating," Carole A. said. "Somebody last night said 'That's the first time I said I'm multitalented.' "

The program, however, doesn't mock 12-steppers struggling with drug and alcohol dependency. "It's a very serious program," Carole A. said. "Some of them are artists who have been put down by their families and society all their lives."

Rather than admitting powerlessness over alcoholism and drug addiction, however, 12-steppers in A.R.T.S Anonymous admit that they are powerless over their creativity -- "that our lives had become unmanageable."

That means they don't know how to discipline their creativity and turn it into a product, Carole A. said. Some may feel alienated and not know how to fit into the mainstream, while other members suffer from isolation, lack of family and social support and feelings of inadequacy.

Carole A.'s husband, James, a recovering drug addict and alcoholic, has attended 12-step programs for years. As a musician he now attends A.R.T.S. Anonymous. "It's the same as A.A. We're all dysfunctional people trying to get well," he said. "Even artists have their problems they need to work through.

"They withdraw from society or are afraid to admit they are artists. They're radical. They suffer from anxiety. Some are underachievers because they're afraid to be who they are. We're just trying to come into a 'normal' society," he said. "It's a lot easier to sit in a room and create than to go out with a friend or to a party."

As with Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous, other people don't realize the struggle that the artists are going through, he said.

While the only requirement for Alcoholics Anonymous is a desire to stop drinking, the only requirement for A.R.T.S. membership is a desire to identify and express creativity.

"Artists trying to make a living -- which is hard -- kind of feel like an alien in this world," said Catina G., an actress who chaired A.R.T.S. Anonymous meetings in Chicago and attended Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She teaches improvisational comedy in Las Vegas. "Sitting in at the meetings makes you feel grounded."

Thirty-two-year-old Mary S. (not her real name) began attending meetings in the Midwest a year ago to help overcome her writer's block, which, she said, came from a lifetime of trying to reach perfection after having high expectations of herself as a child.

"I came from a very dysfunctional family," she said. "My issue is definitely perfectionism. Writing was the only thing I was good at, the only thing I was praised for."

She thought she would be famous by the time she was 18. Because she wasn't, she went to college cynical and bitter. "If my writing wasn't worth publishing, I would feel lousy. I was to the point where I couldn't send stuff out."

Some artists base their worth on their product, Mary S. explained. "Art is an expression of your inner self so if art isn't perfect you feel that you must be flawed."

The pressure from her parents to be perfect eventually took the joy out of her writing, she said. "I wasn't happy with any of the writing I was trying to do because it was forced."

Then, while in a cafe in the Midwest, she saw a flier for A.R.T.S Anonymous, attended the group and, shortly after, applied to various creative writing programs.

Now she is feeling more like a writer, she said, only with less pressure. She writes fiction and poetry. Her focus is on spirituality and the paranormal and she is working on finishing her novel.

Being in the group led her to try other mediums as well, such as painting, collage-work and making jewelry.

The group helped her to feel more comfortable about living a "bohemian lifestyle instead of settling down," she said. "We (she and her husband) are happy doing what we're doing and without having all the trappings of materialism."

Carole A. said she's known her whole life that her creative spirit needs to come out daily. If it isn't expressed in some form, she said, it gets blocked up and makes her want to scream.

"It's a gift from whomever we call our Higher Power," she said. "To me it's a responsibility that we have no choice about. If we don't get to use it we feel like we're a robot in society."

Actor Charlie D. says he was living that robot lifestyle.

Ten years ago, after seven years of sobriety, he was working as a counselor in a treatment facility. His heart wasn't in his job and he was angry about where he was in life.

Although he was earning money, he was slowly dying, he said. So he decided he had to make some changes. "It was a matter of life and death for me," said the actor, now in his 50s.

He joined A.R.T.S. Anonymous, left his job at the treatment facility and put full-time effort into becoming an actor while working part-time jobs. He took acting classes, made voice-over tapes and had head shots taken.

To learn the art he would go to plays and movies. Financially, they were the "lean years," he said. If he couldn't afford to get into the show he would work as an usher. He even attended high school plays to watch technique and study character.

Finally he landed roles, such as Curly in the MGM Theme Park's production of The Three Stooges, and became a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Now a certified teacher and therapist, he teaches part-time and continues to act.

"Having been to the gates of hell (through 18 years of drug abuse) I don't want a life of desperation. I want to jump into the pool and get wet. Without acting I'm not really whole," he said.

"And I've learned to move from a place of envy to appreciating other people's work instead of saying 'look what I didn't get.' "

archive