Why I stopped drawing and other sad stories.

DRAWING!

Why I stopped drawing and other sad stories.

It’s actually quite a short story- because I realised I wasn’t as good as other people! Goodnight!

boo hoo right? Quit before you feel worse. 

THE SAD HISTORY OF AVERSION

I used to draw all the time from childhood onwards, and could mostly draw things accurately by the time I was in high school (faces being an exception here of course, the proportions of the human face were not what my 16 year old self wanted to master, but I sure did enjoy drawing eyelashes). I had a reasonable enough skill level to get into art school with my portfolio, and so, it wasn’t all bad. But in 1st year of art school I embarked upon SERIOUS DRAWING CLASSES, and these, I did not enjoy. The lack of enjoyment stemmed from two things- looking at the work of more skilled students in my class, and the cryptic advice (‘don’t draw the space, draw around the space! don’t draw what’s there draw what’s not there!’, ’Okay… thanks I guess I’ll start again? Okay… yeah I will’). It’s weird, drawing in front of other people, I probably needed to get over myself, but I was 18 years old and my self confidence required the setting of a darkened bar, not a brightly lit studio with a life model shrivelling climate. 

I think what I was never going to master was realism. I understood scale, composition, but I couldn’t replicate the structured set-ups in the same way some of my classmates could. One of the worst experiences I had was trying to draw a stack of ladders. I struggled for soooo long that the tutor brought me a taxidermy bird to draw instead. Not sure if it was a gesture of kindness or condescension but there you go. Confidence was le crushed. To compound this, instead of doggedly keeping going, I stopped drawing. Completely (well, bar story boards from my crappy short films). Part of this was due to the fact I selected a specialism which did not require drawing classes, so I heaved a sigh of relief and didn’t draw in an academic environment again. 

I can look at this two ways- in one version I put aside the development of my drawing skills to focus on developing new skills, some of which I possessed in embryonic form already and were allowed to flourish with the correct facilities and tutelage. But sometimes I feel like I put on a set of blinkers and just shut down a whole side of art-making and my art practice. My drawings weren’t ‘good’ so I stopped. But what was ‘good’? In my own instincts I know when something is ‘good’ or ‘bad’, but I think I didn’t allow myself to get better. I can see myself now, standing there, holding the pencil tightly, trying to get it ‘right’. I was tense AF, and my drawings probably reflected that. Tight, so excruciatingly tight. You can see it- imagine a drawing of some ladders painfully rendered with a 2H pencil, by an anxious teen sweating out last night’s vodka. Yeah- you’d give up too just from looking at that. 

VALIDATION SESSION #6423476

I should have listened to the advice people around me imparted about ‘loosening up’ my drawing with various techniques (things I actually do now, how embarrassing for my former self). Techniques such as- tape your pencil to the end of a massive stick! Fit it all into the page no matter what! Use one line only!! But I was thrown off balance by this whole experience of ‘not good’ (in time I will also detail some of the other reasons I did not utilise my time at art school as successfully as I should have, but let’s focus on this dung heap for now). 

A few years ago I had a mentor as part of a funded project (thank you Anne!), and she pointed out to me (after my paranoiac rambling about not being good at drawing etc) that the collages I had been making were a form of drawing. It resonated with me for two reasons- it validated that what I was doing was of some value (was it ‘good’ though???), but also exposed the fact that some of the mechanisms of drawing- composition, scale etc- were right there, in my work. Basics for art making, first encountered in drawing, of course they were there! I had even labelled some of my collages ‘sketches’ prior to this encounter, of my own volition, without feeling idiotic for doing so. 

It’s perturbing sometimes when you take a step back, to see how deeply entrenched a lack of confidence in yourself and your work can be. Practicing art can feel so fragile at times, and in dark moments very small slights, or failures can be enough to snuff your drive for significant periods.

WHAT’S GOOD?

At this point, re-reading the previous paragraphs, I noticed the important undercurrent in this entire ramble- WHY was it SO IMPORTANT that I was GOOD at drawing?

Because, dear reader, I had bought into the notion that to be an artist, and to be a good artist, you need to be good at drawing. Eek. 

How. Embarrassing. Right? Or?

It makes me think of one of the first lectures I attended at art school where the lecturer said ‘if you tell someone you go to art school and they ask you what you paint- tell them to fuck off!’ I mean I was taught this straight up from day one, but I still bought significant shares in the notion that ‘artistness’ was tied up with notions of being excellent at drawing and painting (I was also scared away from serious pursuit of painting after a two week stint but that’s ANOTHER sad story I shall spare you here… for now….). I think this notion has followed me around in one form or another, but really raised its head again after being away from the academic environment, out in the big world. After a hiatus from art-making during a foray into a non-studio based postgraduate degree, I tried to recapture my practice about 5 years after graduating. This was *HARD*, I had completely changed how I wanted to work, and had no real sense of direction. A deep reticence about making anything ensued and I crept into a cycle of note-taking, collecting, stunted attempts at making, and then retreating into inertia. I told myself my practice was ‘research based’, which actually just meant lots of reading and avoiding making. I don’t hate the work I did manage to squeeze out in this period, but I was really trying to find my feet, and it felt like the floor was covered in inner-critic (we’ll come back to THEM) shaped marbles. Interacting with people outside art circles doesn’t add to confidence either, a lot of people more broadly equate ‘good art’ and being an artist with drawing, painting and realism. People like what they like! Right? That’s fine! But if you don’t fit into this mould, or this worldview, and are lacking confidence/direction and you STILL want to endeavour to be an artist, you need to find a safe space to develop, even just in your own head. 

But how? 

You know, I actually followed one of the most insensitive and yet probably accurate pieces of advice I have ever received about making work and the problems it entails- ‘you just have to do it’. 

INSERT NIKE SWOOSH

I’m now going to tell a really predictable story about when I started drawing again… LOCKDOWN 2020! Wow, very original. But yes, I did in fact pick up a pencil (charcoal actually) and start drawing again. Probably just before the pandemic really took hold, but around that time. Cute lockdown hobby! Groan. At least it wasn’t sourdough. Anyway- in order to get over the immense blockage that was preventing me from drawing (I am my own road block, this is a recurring theme so enjoy), I required two things. Some friendly drawing materials (charcoal, soft pencils), copious paper (newsprint sketchbook), no pressure (we are all maybe going to die v soon?), and some support. The support was key. I work on a collaborative project with a close friend, and they offered me a safe, non judgmental space to start drawing again. This friend was adamant that nothing had to be ‘good’, and it should even be actively avoided. My drawing was looser, more comfortably naive, more fluid, expressive and actually really enjoyable. I mean, I’m not entering a drawing prize any time soon, nor have I even really shared my drawings with many people (and especially not my main instagram account which is focused on a very specific kind of work, and I wouldn’t want to upset the cart that Zuck built). But I really take pleasure in drawing. I draw quickly, and move on from anything I’m not happy with, not dwelling on why it went wrong for ages just going going going. Liberating! Joyous! Okay, I obviously still suffer from frustration and fear, but it’s not preventing me from trying, and deriving actual enjoyment from the process itself. 

Before I started drawing again I was getting really frustrated with how flat my work was. Flat, flat, flaaaaaaaat. But bringing drawing back into my practice made me immediately more adventurous. In fact, since the initial draft of this blog I have brought my drawing into several larger projects, and I even hung some up in my studio where people actually see it! And no, no-one has laughed or been sick to my knowledge. I’ve even included pieces with my drawings in two exhibitions. Who is she??

I suppose this exploration of my drawing anxiety is part of a larger issue- how to build and sustain confidence in your work as an artist out there in the big, bad world. Some people have innate confidence in themselves and their work, and I’d love to hold onto something like that, like a solid state of being, something immovable, but I am not in that place yet. I’d like to be the Castle in the Desert.

It’s been ten years since I stepped away from art making and it’s been a bumpy journey to get myself back to a point where I can call myself an artist and not feel like someone will pop out from behind a pillar and yell ‘no you’re not!’ (imposter syndrome is a career must, guys) and I have to immediately concede and jump into the sewer. It hasn’t been linear, but being able to swallow my pride and be willing to re-engage with drawing has been a big part of strengthening my confidence. I was allowing myself to be pigeon-holed as a ‘collage artist’ when really I’d prefer to operate freely under the more general banner of ‘artist’. Identity crisis! How novel. But flexibility is something I really wanted to cultivate. Today my work ranges across mediums from textiles, photography, digital work and, more recently, written texts. The confinement of the label ‘COLLAGE ARTIST’ only existed in my own mind, one of those ‘the cage door was open all along’ type moments. There are issues however when it comes to sharing DiFfErEnT work on my social media channels, but that’s something to explore in more detail later (algorithm diaries, the serialisation no-one needed).

I never feel like I’ve resolved anything when it comes to my practice, but I suppose that’s the point. It is forever a work in progress. 

Are you an artist who has had a difficult relationship with drawing? Am I just a crybaby who needs to sharpen their 2B and shut up? Let me know below!

Thanks for reading, as always

Jenny 🙂