When I decided that I wanted to learn how to draw, I was studying in one of the most prestigious universities in the country - and I say that with a bit of mockery.  I don’t believe in prestige, in fact I find it laughable.  Especially since the university’s policy of accepting only the best worked against me.

My school, like most schools with a superiority complex, wanted to teach only those who already showed promise.  There was a talent test that was so rigorous that even my friends who were already good failed it.  More than once.  I was initially a Film major, and because of the talent test involved, I knew that shifting to Fine Arts wasn’t an option.

Since I could only draw stick figures at that time (no exaggeration), I decided to leave the university and find another school which had a different approach to the arts. I wanted to find an environment where art could be taught, where teachers didn’t expect you to be preternaturally good at drawing on the first day.

So I applied to a small college that no one had even heard of.  During my application interview, the head of the Fine Arts department told me that 21 was “the perfect age to start learning how to draw” since I would be mature and responsible enough to take it on.  She spent over an hour discussing with me how it was her philosophy that art skills can be taught, rather than just inherited.   She also gave me a rundown of her success stories - college students who didn’t know how to draw, but through diligence have become successful artists.  This inspired me.

After that interview, I knew that it was the perfect place for me to learn.  I signed up.

It wasn’t a difficult decision for me.  It was, however, difficult for others to understand.  Why would I voluntarily leave a prestigious university for an unknown school located behind a mall?  Many students would kill to be in my position and here I was throwing it away.  Friends and family were so perplexed that they thought I was facing some kind of crisis.  As far as I was concerned, there was none.  I wanted to draw.  I wanted to find an environment where I would be encouraged to learn it.  And I did.

My progress over the years (click to enlarge in a new window).

I know I still have years of hard work ahead of me, but the most important step I took was to believe that creating art can be learned, that I did not have to solely rely on what is popularly known as “inborn talent”.

“…but talent is a dreadfully cheap commodity, cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work and study; a constant process of honing. Talent is a dull knife that will cut nothing unless it is wielded with great force…”
Stephen King, Danse Macabre

We spend most of our lives avoiding opportunities to discover new skills just because we don’t think we have the talent for it.  By doing this, we automatically block out options for careers, hobbies, and even passions.  For most, artistic pursuits are only for the talented, those people who by genetic lottery or favor of the gods were given the gifts to create works of beauty.

And who can blame us for giving talent a mythical status?  The finished work of artists and writers looks so effortless and contained that we don’t see all the hard work, notes, drafts, and sleepless nights that went into it.  We forget that the art object or the literary piece itself is only a small fraction of the creative process.  It’s much like a magic show - you see the trick, but not how it’s done.  To the audience, the illusion takes seconds, but the magician took years of practice developing his skill, carefully watching the masters, and building his kit of smoke and mirrors.

Talent might make a difference, but it is not the deciding factor for one’s success.  Many talented individuals go to waste because they expect creative work to come easy for them and are frustrated when it doesn’t.  They don’t realize that apart from the talent they bring to the table, they also have to work long hours, learn from their mistakes, and constantly make the effort to be better. Without these, talent is just a collection of fluff dreams that don’t make it to reality.

Motivation and perseverance outweigh talent every time.  Remember that the next time you hesitate to embark on creative work.

One of the books I enjoyed recently is “How to Self-Destruct” by Jason Seiden (I reviewed it here).  In a short section of the book, Seiden discusses his four-year-old daughter’s philosophy when she’s trying something for the first time:

“If I can’t do it,” she says, “it’s no big deal.  I’ll just keep at it until I get it.”
Source: “How to Self-Destruct” by Jason Seiden

This simple mantra can easily be applied to creative work, if you’re feeling blocked.  “Writer’s block” and the like usually occur because of performance anxiety, fear, or low self-confidence.  Looking at your work in the “No Big Deal” way can be very empowering and can break down these blocks.  For example:

• If you’re a writer, just focus on getting your first draft done instead of constantly editing yourself along the way. That’s what the second draft is for.  Even the writers who win “Best First Novel” awards didn’t get lucky with their first try.  In fact, those awards should be renamed “Best First Published Novel from a Writer Who Worked Her Ass Off for Years Just to Learn How to Write Like This and Find a Publisher“.
• If there’s a skill or hobby you haven’t tried because you’re afraid you’ll suck at it, know that you won’t reach success until you try and fail the first few times.
• If your professor harshly criticizes your first work, don’t let it deter you.  Just remember that when he started out he was just as crappy as you are - maybe even crappier.  Van Gogh himself was unlucky with his first commissions.

The idea behind “No Big Deal” is that everyone who attempts anything new is bound to mess up in some way, especially on their first try. It’s no big deal.  It happens to everyone.  Remembering this takes the pressure off, and we get to focus on what’s really important - the work itself.

Of course, I’m not saying “Don’t strive for perfection”, what I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be a slave to it, expecting that you’ll create masterpiece after masterpiece.  Just create!  Don’t worry about mistakes before they’re made.  Evaluate your work when the first rough version is done, then be aware of the mistakes.  This process allows us to create the work first, while quality will take care of itself over time.

So let’s get back to work.  Who cares if it’s not award-winning right now?  There’s no way to get to a masterpiece without initial clumsy attempts.

Really, they’re not a big deal.

Image by Ratnesh Bhatt from sxc.hu

Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I’ve always been interested in carpentry.  I’m unsure what it was that initially drove my interest, but as a young teen, I was spending a lot of time looking through the Reader’s Digest Complete Do-It-Yourself Manual.  I aspired to create DIY projects that would be as beautiful and functional as the ones from the book.

It wasn’t until a few months ago that I acted on these aspirations.  After some time, I realized that carpentry was very different from the other things I do - writing,  art-making, and even living.  Carpentry allowed me to experience some things that were unknown to me, things that I wish to implement and recreate in my creative work.

The need to relax

Nervousness is something that I have a daily struggle with.  In a relaxed state, I am articulate and rational, but when faced with stressful situations, it’s an unpredictable hit or miss.  Even if I try to calm myself internally, my body reveals my true mental state.  My hands shake and my speech is broken.

My first attempts at carpentry were equally nervous - I grasped the saw handle too tightly, my teeth were clenched as I worked.  However, gripping the saw handle too tightly makes it vulnerable to unexpected movements I make.  Plus, all of this was an unnecessary waste of energy.

It took a while for me to notice, but if you have good tools, you only need to trust in them and let gravity do the work.  Understanding this made carpentry almost effortless for me.  What used to feel like hard, tiring work now feels more like relaxation.  I can now spend more time on my carpentry and not feel as exhausted after.

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