The Artist You Keep Becoming By Denise Jones

Define yourself. Go on, I dare you. Chances are, you’re out of the gate running, describing what you do. “I’m a performer.” Or still, “I’m a songwriter.” Better yet… “I’m an  artist.” And I have no doubt if I were to ask, “yes, but is it who you are?” your answer would be a swift and firm “Yes.” I know mine is.

Make no mistake, you ARE an artist. Is songwriting a hobby or a full time job? Do you struggle or is it easy? Do you schedule time to do it? Do you wait until lightning strikes? No matter your method or your process, you are an artist. Ask Rick Rubin. If you haven’t read The Creative Act: A Way of Being, then you’re missing a revelatory moment about who you are as an artist and what creating means. Not just for the world that receives your creations but for you.

If you’re over twenty-five, you’re expected to define yourself. No, we’re not talking about brand. I know there’s a big push for this right now, one I’m not even sure is worth the long term effort in a world that’s too fickle to rely on anything long term these days. Brand is different, it does not define you. And why someone has deemed this age - or any number in the second or third decade of your life - the necessary one to suddenly “know thyself” is beyond me. Can you do it though? Can you define yourself at twenty-five? At thirty-five? Sure, but don’t expect it to last. You can know who you are and even articulate that knowing at pretty much any age. But wait ten or fifteen years and I guarantee that person will be a stranger, and the definition will be out of a proverbial book that has a new edition published every year.

So what about when you’re over forty? Over fifty? How many times have you redefined yourself by then? In some cases, like twists and turns pulling you further from the center of town, how far away has all that redefinition taken you from your songwriting, your art? Those are questions I asked myself at forty. The answers were scary. How many times did I redefine myself, for good or bad? Countless. How far away had I gone? Pretty damn far. But that also proved something monumental. That I could redefine myself again. Hey, if you’ve done it countless times, what’s another? The difference lies in doing it with intention.

At forty, I did. And again at forty-five, and again at fifty. And so on, and so on. You get the picture. And with every redefining - or maybe now I should say refining - my art has changed as well. At this age, it’s not as easy. But it’s more solid, wiser, less fleeting. I’m unapologetic about the things I choose to write about. And my definition is authenticity, honesty. My youngest son - also an artist, and half my age - says everyone has an audience and they will find you. I really have no choice but to believe in this. After all, no one is a generation of one.

So go ahead, define yourself. Indeed, you should. But don’t beat yourself up over it, and don’t try to stick to that definition long after it’s no longer who you are. You yourself are a work of art, a song, which we all know can be defined, refined, and yes… redefined.

By Denise Jones

April 2026