Art and identity fall hand in hand. Read through posts that surround the trials and tribulations of learning “how to art”. It’s a crazy, frustrating, beautiful journey. Buckle up folks~
. . . A seasoned artist might take this pain and translate it into something devastatingly beautiful. I am not a seasoned artist. And right now, art is the last thing on my mind. . .
There are times when I love art my art. But these moments are rare. More often than not, I find myself fighting with my art. Frustrated because it doesn’t want to do what I tell it to. My hues repel one another. My inkwork is off beyond recovery. . .
Art is born from self expression. It's essentially an outlet used to make sense of your thoughts—especially when you're feeling just a tad neurotic. It's a form of storytelling. Of…
There aren't many perks to being an amateur artist; however, it does come with one clear benefit: An inflated and unearned sense of confidence in your (lack of) abilities. So when my mom, of all people, asked me to paint a huge "masterpiece" to be hung in our living room, I of course told her that I could handle it. "It'll be easy breezy!" I thought. So I went to the nearest Dollarama and picked up a couple of large paintbrushes. . .
. . . The point is, you start off small in the amateur stage. And once you slowly begin to find our footing, you explore. Your creative scope begins to expand, ever so slowly—as does your sense of exploration. Different styles and mediums begin to influence your work. And then one day, when you least expect it, your creative medium slaps you across the face. It could be a love-at-first-sight type of slap. Your first time using soft-core colored pencils for instance and then, boom, instant adoration for the medium. Or it could be a relationship full of exasperation to start. Writing off, say, acrylics out of frustration, only to be drawn back to them later down the line. . .
Let's be real for a second here. What is it like to learn art as an adult? When you ask people how long they've been drawing for, they typically answer with "for as long as I can remember". And don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful thing to pick up on your creativity at a young age. . .
Your sketchbook is a space for experimentation. It's a space for you to try out different mediums and styles until you decide what clicks. It's a way to test out ideas before you make your mark on a canvas or high-quality art paper. Sketchbooks are supposed to be messy. Now this is a mindset that took me two and a half years to grow into. I've come to realize that the better you become at art, the easier it is to give yourself permission to get down and dirty.
Starting a brand new sketchbook is probably one of the best feelings in the realm of traditional art. It represents a fresh start—a step forward in your art development. Hopefully this chapter proceeds completing a previous sketchbook (unless you're the type to leave yours halfway when starting a new one).
Joining an art community is detrimental when you're starting out in your creative venture. The connection that you develop with other creatives is such a powerful bond. Their encouragement is strong enough to deter you from giving up all together when you lack confidence in your work. And watching them work is encouraging enough to give you the confidence to create.
There are some incredibly talented people on this planet. They seem to have an inherent sense of creativity. It lives in them, and was reinforced in them during their childhood through being fed countless words of encouragement. Most artists have been practicing their craft since as long as their memories serve. Ask any illustrator you know when they started drawing—they likely won't be able to pinpoint an exact moment in time since it has always been a part of their life. . .