Rachel: Alright, Justine. The book is Finding Your Artistic Voice. If you had to describe the artistic voice of, say, a corporate PowerPoint presentation, what would it be? Justine: Oh, that's easy. It's the color beige, screaming in Helvetica, with a faint, desperate echo of clip art from 1998. Rachel: That is hilariously, painfully accurate. And it's exactly the kind of soul-crushing conformity that Lisa Congdon is fighting against in her book, Finding Your Artistic Voice: The Essential Guide to Becoming the Artist You Were Meant to Be. Justine: The mortal enemy of beige. I like her already. Rachel: You will. And what's so compelling is that Congdon herself is a self-taught artist who didn't even start her professional career until she was around 40. She’s living proof that it's never too late to find that voice and escape the land of clip art. Justine: Okay, I love that. Because the phrase "find your voice" always sounds so intimidating, like you're supposed to go on a spiritual quest to a mountaintop. The idea that you can just... start, even later in life, is a huge relief. Rachel: That’s the whole point. It’s not a quest for something that’s lost. It’s an act of building something that’s uniquely yours. And it starts with rejecting the idea that you have to be like everyone else.

Justine: So where does she begin? What does "artistic voice" even mean if it's not just about, you know, the style of your painting or your font choice? Rachel: That's the perfect question. Congdon argues that style is a huge part of it, but your voice is much bigger. It's your unique point of view, filtered through your entire life. She breaks it down into a few key elements: your style, yes, but also your skill, your chosen subject matter, the medium you use, and maybe most importantly, consistency across your work. Justine: So it’s the whole package. Not just how it looks, but what it’s about and how you make it. Rachel: Exactly. And her own story is the perfect example. She grew up in the 70s and 80s in a suburban neighborhood with identical tract homes. She said her deepest desire was just to fit in, to have the same cool clothes and be part of the popular crowd. Justine: Oh, I know that feeling. The desperate need for Izod shirts and Swatch watches. It was a survival mechanism in middle school. Rachel: Totally. But for her, the big shift happened when she moved to San Francisco at 22. Suddenly, she was surrounded by all this diversity—art, culture, people living authentically—and she had this epiphany. She realized, as she puts it, "Conformity is for the birds." She started to see that the things that make you different are your strengths. Justine: That’s a huge mental flip. To go from seeing your quirks as flaws to seeing them as your greatest asset. Rachel: It’s everything. And that's when she started making art, in her early thirties. She realized that her voice was tied up in her own story, her own perspective. It wasn't about trying to be someone else. She quotes another artist, Andrea Pippins, who had this powerful journey. Pippins was a successful graphic designer, making good money, but she felt creatively stifled. She finally had to just declare, "I am an artist," and she quit her high-paying job to pursue work that felt true to her. Justine: Wow, that takes guts. To walk away from security for authenticity. Rachel: It does. But that’s the core idea. Your voice is your story. And Congdon uses this fantastic metaphor: she says your artistic voice is like your superpower. It's what makes your work interesting, distinctive, and ultimately, what makes people connect with it. It’s the thing no one else has, because no one else is you. Justine: A superpower. I like that framing. It makes it sound less like a chore you have to do and more like something powerful you get to uncover. Rachel: Exactly. It’s not about meeting some external standard. It’s about differentiation. In a world of beige PowerPoints, your voice is the splash of color that can’t be ignored.

Justine: Okay, so finding your voice is about embracing your unique story and nonconformity. But that sounds… hard. And probably really messy. It can't be a straight line from "I'm a conformist" to "I have a superpower." Rachel: Oh, it's the opposite of a straight line. This is my favorite part of the book because it’s so brutally honest. Congdon lays out the artistic path not as a ladder you climb, but as a cycle you repeat over and over. It goes something like this: The Spark, that initial moment of inspiration. Then The Ongoing Desire to Create. Then comes the messy part: Risk-Taking and Experimentation. Justine: The part where you make a lot of bad stuff. Rachel: A lot of bad stuff. Which inevitably leads to the next phase: Questioning. This is the "Why am I even doing this? This is terrible. I should just give up and learn to code" phase. Justine: I am intimately familiar with the Questioning phase. I think I live there. Rachel: We all do! But if you push through it, you eventually hit Creative Flow, that magical state where time disappears and you're just in it. And then the cycle starts all over again with a new idea. The book is so validating because it normalizes the struggle. And Congdon shares this great little story. Early in her journey, she was walking around San Francisco and saw a sticker on a telephone pole that just said, "Embrace the Suck." Justine: Ha! Perfect. Rachel: She took a picture of it and it became her mantra. The creative process involves fear, self-doubt, vulnerability, and shame. You can't avoid it. You just have to embrace it. Justine: You have to be willing to suck for a while to get to the good stuff. Rachel: Exactly. And there's an incredible story in the book about artist Libby Black that illustrates this perfectly. She's in her MFA program at the California College of the Arts, just two weeks away from her final thesis show—the biggest show of her life. She has a plan, it's all laid out. Justine: Okay, the pressure is already immense. Rachel: Then a famous visiting artist, Jim Hodges, does a studio visit. He looks at her work and starts asking her these probing questions, basically challenging her entire approach. And Libby has this moment of sheer terror and clarity. She realizes he's right. Her plan is safe, but it's not honest. Justine: No. Don't tell me she started over. Two weeks out?! I'm getting anxious just hearing that! Rachel: She did. She threw everything out. She had this flash of an idea connected to her mom, who kept these 51 shoeboxes filled with memories. In a panic, she emailed her dad, "Take pictures of all of mom's shoeboxes and send them to me!" The photos came back blurry and terrible, but she didn't care. For two weeks, she worked like a maniac, recreating life-size versions of all 51 shoeboxes out of paper, paint, and glue. Justine: That is absolute madness. I love it. What happened? Rachel: The show was a massive success. It was a huge breakthrough for her, and it defined the direction of her career. She says in the book that she learned that fear is a signal. When she feels that terror, it usually means she's onto something really, really good. The magic is on the other side of that fear. Justine: Wow. So the "suck" isn't just something to endure, it's actually a compass pointing you toward growth. Rachel: That's the idea. It's not a bug in the system; it's a feature of the creative process. You have to walk through the fire of the "Questioning" phase to get to the flow.

Rachel: And pushing through that fear isn't just about a sudden burst of courage; Congdon argues it's about discipline and routine. It's about the unglamorous work of just showing up. Justine: This is where the romantic myth of the artist waiting for the muse to strike comes crashing down, isn't it? Rachel: Completely. She talks about the radio host Ira Glass, who has this famous quote about "the gap." He says that for the first few years you're making stuff, your work just isn't that good. It has potential, but it doesn't live up to your own good taste. There's a gap between your ambition and your ability. Justine: And that gap is a killer. It's where most people quit because the disappointment is too much. Rachel: Exactly. And Glass says the only way to close that gap is through a huge volume of work. You have to practice. You have to make a schedule and stick to it. Congdon emphasizes this over and over. Your voice emerges from the doing, not the thinking. Justine: But wait, let's be practical. What if you're trying to make a living? Isn't following trends and seeing what's popular on Pinterest the smart way to go? You can't just ignore the market. Rachel: That is such an important question, and it's something a lot of creatives struggle with. Congdon has the perfect story for this. Early in her career, she wanted to get into surface design—patterns for fabric and wallpaper. So she did what she thought you were supposed to do: she studied trend reports, saved trendy images, and started making patterns of things she thought would sell. Justine: Let me guess. Owls? Mustaches? Llamas? Rachel: You nailed it. She went to a huge surface design trade show in New York, and she was just overwhelmed by what she called a "mass of sameness." Every booth had the same trendy gardening tools, the same owls, the same llamas. She had this breakdown in her hotel room, crying, because she realized, "How can I ever stand out if I'm just doing what everyone else is doing?" Justine: That’s a terrifying moment. When you realize you’ve become part of the beige PowerPoint. Rachel: It was her turning point. She threw away the trend reports. She stopped looking at fads. She made a list of all the things she was genuinely, weirdly fascinated by—things like vintage school supplies, strange collections, geometric shapes. And she started drawing that. Justine: And what happened to her career? Rachel: It took off. Her work became distinctive. It had a voice. She had more fun, and that energy was magnetic. It proves that while trends might give you a short-term sale, a unique voice is what gives you a sustainable career. It's what makes someone seek you out, not just a generic pattern of a llama. Justine: So authenticity isn't just a feel-good concept, it's actually a long-term business strategy. Rachel: It's the ultimate business strategy. And it requires discipline. The discipline to practice, to show up even when you're not inspired, and the discipline to tune out the noise of trends and listen to your own strange, wonderful obsessions.

Justine: Okay, so if we pull this all together, it feels like a three-part recipe. Start with nonconformity, mix in a whole lot of messy, fearful work, and then bake it with daily discipline. Rachel: That's a great way to put it. The voice isn't a single thing. It's your unique perspective, born from rejecting sameness. It's forged in the messy, cyclical fire of actually making things, especially when you're scared. And it's sustained by the quiet, unglamorous discipline of showing up every day. Justine: What do you think is the single biggest, most important takeaway for someone listening who feels like they don't have a voice, or that it's too late to start? Rachel: I think it's this: Your artistic voice isn't something you find like lost keys. It's something you build, brick by brick, every single day. You build it by showing up, telling your own truth, and having the courage to be a little weird. It’s not out there somewhere waiting for you. It’s inside you, waiting to be let out through the work. Justine: I love that. It puts the power right back in your hands. So for anyone listening, maybe the first step isn't some grand gesture. Maybe it's just to notice one thing today that genuinely fascinates you, no matter how strange, and just write it down or sketch it. Rachel: Exactly. Start with your own curiosity. And we'd love to hear what it is. Share your weird fascinations with the Aibrary community on our socials. Let's celebrate the unconventional. What's the weirdest thing you've been obsessed with lately, Justine? Justine: Honestly? The history of vending machines. It's a whole world. Rachel: See? That's a voice right there. The world needs more art about the history of vending machines. Justine: I'll get right on it. After I finish my beige PowerPoint. Rachel: This is Aibrary, signing off.