What you’re seeing is not the whole story

When you look at someone else’s artwork, you’re seeing the finished piece. What you’re not seeing is everything that came before it. What if the goal isn’t to become good overnight? What if the goal is simply to learn, practise, play, make mistakes and slowly build the confidence to keep going?

A statement I hear from students who attend my workshops goes something along the lines of:

“I wish I was as good as you.”
or
“I’ll never be as good as you.”

I understand why people say it.
I know it is intended as a compliment.
But I don’t particularly like it.
Not because I’m offended.
Because I think they’re seeing only the finished artwork, not everything that came before it.
They think it somehow just happened.

It didn’t.

It is the result of time.
Time spent pushing through my own self-doubt and criticism. And there is plenty of that!
Time practising and playing. I wish there was more time for that!
Time doing, failing, experimenting, making mistakes, learning, trying again and slowly improving.

Sometimes I wish it all just happened. But really… where’s the fun in that?

What I wish students knew is this …

You can become highly skilled and confident in anything you learn at a workshop by investing your own time, practice and play.
If you want to.
And in your own unique way.

When you attend a workshop, any workshop, it is unfair and unrealistic to expect that you’ll become an expert in that process the very next day, or even the day after that, or the day after that.

During a workshop, you might spend a couple of hours or days learning a new skill. But there is so much more happening than simply learning the process itself.

In a printmaking workshop, for example, students are learning how to use unfamiliar tools, inks and papers. They’re learning about pressure, registration, colour, mirror-image thinking, problem-solving and decision-making. And they’re doing all of that while learning the process they actually came to study.

That’s a lot!

Give yourself some credit.

Learning takes time.
Developing a new skill set takes time.
Finding your own aesthetic within a process you have only just learned takes time.

Years ago, I wrote about it taking ten years to become an overnight success.
I still believe that.

There are very few shortcuts. In art, and in life.

If I find a shortcut that doesn’t compromise the integrity of my work, I’ll happily take it.
I do look for them!

But after many years of making art, I’ve learned that most growth comes from showing up repeatedly and doing the work (the same is true for most of life’s skills, not just art).

The same is true for every artist whose work you admire.

Behind every artwork hanging in a gallery is a pile of prints or canvases that didn’t work.
Behind every social media post is a curated moment and a collection of culled photos.
Behind every finished artwork are countless experiments, failures, lessons and discarded ideas.

What you’re seeing is not the whole story.

As I write this, I’m writing as much to myself as I am to anyone reading.

I am self-taught in most of the printmaking processes I practise.
I’ve attended workshops, in person and online.
I’ve had play days with art friends.
I’ve read books.
I’ve spent countless hours looking at beautiful work created by artists around the world.
I see their work and sometimes think:
“I wish I could do that.”
or
“I wish I was that good.”

I suspect most artists do. Even those whose work we admire.

The difference is that the artists we admire kept going.

They put in the time.
They practised.
They experimented.
They failed.
And then they did it all again.

I still have so much to learn.
I’m still learning.
I’m still making mistakes.
I’m still trying to create work that lives up to the ideas in my head.

The reality is that there are only so many hours in a day.

Life happens around our creative practice.
Family.
Work.
Health.
Responsibilities.
Laundry.

The adult life many of us imagined would be full of freedom often turns out to be far more complicated, layered and messy than expected.

So perhaps the goal isn’t to fast-forward to mastering a process or art form.

Perhaps the goal is to enjoy the experience along the way.
To enjoy learning.
To enjoy the play.
To enjoy not knowing yet.

When you attend a workshop, learn the skills.
Then take them home.
Experiment.
Practise.
Adapt them.
Make them your own.
Put in the time, as and when you can.

Give yourself permission to learn, practise and play.

Brené Brown wrote:
“The middle is messy, but it’s also where the magic happens.”

I think she’s right!

The messy middle is where the real work happens.
It’s where we practise, play, make mistakes, try again and slowly begin to find our own way.

Not every piece needs to be finished, framed or kept.
Some work exists simply to teach us.

That is where the growth is.

That is why practice and play are never a waste of time.

And practice and play is where the whole story begins.