My best work often comes out of the lowest expectations. That sounds pretty dismal, doesn’t it? But it isn’t. The above drawing was something I did this past winter. I’d gone for a walk and seen some dead flowers along the path and was fascinated by their stark beauty. So I picked a bunch, took them back, then began to look at them. And then I began to arrange the flowers. Then I began to see a frame and a drawing and… You get the idea. I’ll probably never be hired for any project that involves dead flowers. But it was a rejuvenating moment with zero expectations.
The Internet is full of lies, some that while well-intentioned, harm. In terms of illustration, one of the most pernicious falsehoods is the idea that everyone is creating amazing art all the time and working constantly. Ergo, you are failing if you do not create amazing art all the time and work constantly. This, is the Mother of All Lies. And I want to spend some time unpacking it.
Firstly: Don’t Compare Yourself to Strangers on the Internet.
This gets said a lot, but it can’t get said enough. At a certain point, you just have to put on your blinders and focus on what’s in front of you. It’s easy to see Jane Doe churning out astounding repeating patterns and detailed drawings of flora and fauna and think, “I am a lazy amoeba in comparison.” You are not a lazy amoeba. What you may not realize is that Jane has been illustrating for decades and is simply sharing from a backlog of work. Or maybe Jane just lost her job and is channeling her unemployment stress into creating beautiful art. And maybe Jane is working non-stop, hates it, but is too scared to admit the fact. Who knows. But the reality is: you do you.
Leisure is Good and Feeds Creativity
It’s important to make the distinction between sloth (“I am going to lie here on the couch and eat lime-flavored Doritos all day playing Candy Crush) and leisure (“I’m going to take the dog for a walk, then brew a pot of tea and do the crossword). One deadens the senses, the other is life-giving. It isn’t that there aren’t occasions to indulge in a bit of sloth. I remember getting through a particularly stressful period of life by watching multiple episodes of “Parks and Recreation” each night on my laptop, in bed. But I was doing this with an understanding that once I got to the other side of the overwhelm, that behavior would stop. And to be frank, I developed much healthier coping mechanisms as time went on (getting coffee with a friend, pulling weeds in the garden, knitting, etc., etc.). You shouldn’t feel guilty embracing leisure, but society frequently frowns at downtime. The lie tells us that if we aren’t on the go, continuously hustling, somehow we’re failing. And we’re not failing when we embrace leisure, not by a long-shot. The sooner we reclaim the true understanding of leisure, the better off we’ll be as a society. And good art comes from leisure, from renewing your creative batteries. Again, zero expectations.
Stay Invisible
Sketching at the DMV or the dentist invariably results in sketches I actually like. I wish this wasn’t the case. Countless times I’ll sit down at my drafting table willing an idea to come that simply won’t. So what’s the difference? My theory is that at the DMV, there’s zero expectations. The statistical likelihood of an art director saddeling up and saying, “Hey, that looks great, can I hire you?” is virtually nil. And once that pressure is off me, the ideas come. One approach to drawing comes from a point of no expectations, the other from a consumeristic mindset. The rub is that commercial art (illustration) is ultimately work produced for someone else, a complicating factor. So for illustrators, I think it’s absolutely crucial to find time to draw things that no eyes will ever see. And this goes for any interest. Not every park you visit needs to end up on Instagram stories. Your new favorite read doesn’t have to instantly show up on TikTok. Take a deep breath and lean into the quiet. Pretend the Internet doesn’t exist.
The Trash Can is Not Your Enemy
You don’t have to keep everything you draw. Throwing things out is strangely liberating. It’s saying that you’re not owned by this one piece of art, that you have the potential to create something even better someday. Sometimes I’ll noodle away at something to the point of no return when, in reality, I should have just crumpled the thing up hours ago. Is this painful? Yes. But once that sub-par art goes into the rubbish bin, the ensuing freedom will offer a new step forward.
Don’t Put a Price Tag on Play
I’ve heard a lot of creatives articulate their struggle with the idea of time = money. This is a real issue for me as well. I remember taking an etching class years ago thinking, “If each student finishes the class with x amount of prints and I sell mine for x, then I can recoup the cost of the class, justifying the expense.” In the end, maybe only two of the prints I produced were worth sharing. The rest were… student work. But I learned a ton! And I began to awaken an interest in printmaking. It wasn’t helpful, though, for me to quantify that learning with a price tag. I should have planned to spend four weeks creating okay art and having loads of fun. Linking time and money may be a motivator for some people and if that’s helpful for you, terrific! For me, it can be paralyzing. Play is good and experimentation is crucial. I wouldn’t advocate staying in the experimentation stage forever; at some point you have to push the boat out. But don’t dismiss play because you don’t think it offers earning potential. It may, it may not.
Now that I’ve gone through this list, full disclosure: I’m probably going to have to print it out as a reminder to myself. Or, maybe I should just get, “Zero expectations” tattooed to my forearm and refer to it several times a day. Ha!