Trial and error and error and error.
Someone asked me if I’d make a fast-motion video of me drawing but I can’t do that because I draw with my sketchbook up against my chest to protect it from Hunter S. Thomcat who wants to sit on it and Ferris Mewler who wants to chase the pen and Dorothy Barker who will inevitably jump on me right as I am focusing on the tiniest detail, so instead I shot pictures every 15 minutes so I could make it into a video.
Then I tried to upload it to tiktok and did not do it right, and then I tried again and thought I did it right but Hailey called from college to assure me I did not do it right again, and then they and their partner walked me through each of the steps as I yelled “WHY DOES IT SAY GREENSCREEN IF THERE IS NO GREENSCREEN?” and they attempted to hide their laughter and sweet sighs of frustration and pity, but then I finally did it (I think?) and I have no idea how.
(The video might be below, or maybe I’ve destroyed the internet. Either one is possible at this point.)
The whole mess is actually very similar to how I draw. Just trial and error. Working and reworking. Erasing more than I ever show. Often embarrassing myself publicly. Looking for inspiration to see how others do it and then criticising what I make because I’m always comparing it to people who have perfected the thing I’m chasing after.
To really like my work I have to look at it with different eyes. I have to forget everyone who did it better or faster, and remind myself that no one has ever done it quite the way I have. I have to remind myself that the people I compare myself to probably compare themselves to others and that if they let their self-doubt keep them from creating I’d never have been inspired by them. I have to remind myself that I do this for the love of creating, rather than the pursuit of perfection, because there is no way in hell I will ever get there. It’s the exact same with my writing.
I’m more than a quarter of the way through this year-old project of drawing every week and I don’t know that I’m getting any better at it yet. I’ve come to the conclusion that I will always struggle. But learning to enjoy that struggle is something I’m getting better at, and I’m starting to realize how much this very thing is what life is all about.
Thank you for coming on this journey with me. Thank you for kind eyes. Thank you for the struggle.
I have always believed I have no artistic ability whatsoever, and have been very jealous of your fantastical sketches. And I want to be the kind of person who carries a sketchbook when they travel, and draw little jewel-like landscapes. So I ignored my inner critic and signed up for an introduction to drawing course. To my surprise and delight, my first assignment did not totally suck (as in, my kids correctly identified what I was trying to draw) so I am allowing myself faint hope.
So if you ever question the value of what you do, please know that you inspired this middle-aged woman to take a leap of faith and learn new skills.
I am only a month into beginning to experiment with watercolor, my very first medium. I haven’t ever taken an art class, not even in high school unless you count ceramics, so this is the wild west for me. As I begin to take in artists and try this or that, I want to ask you all, how did you get here? Do you have any experience with art of any kind before starting this a year ago? Or is your brain just magically wired to know perspective, lighting, shadow, proportion, fluidity, etc and know how to produce it even in line drawing?
I admire your skill, and vulnerability in sharing it and know that with its gift comes permission to try ourselves. Thank you.