The art of discouragement

Creative work shouldn’t be critiqued. At least not in the way you’re thinking.

Art was my favorite class in college. I loved it so much that I took an elective from the same teacher the following year.

Each Wednesday we had almost four hours to sit and draw, or paint, or make use of whatever medium our teacher planned. It was one of my first experiences—outside of simply drawing on my own—where I got into a state of flow. The hours flew by with acrylic paints and charcoal smudges.

The class had a loose structure. We were encouraged to follow along, but could do our own thinking if creativity struck.

Two things stand out twenty years later.

First, I noticed a pattern with the the students who enjoyed class the most. Often they came from a background with flexible schedules. Think homeschool kids. They embraced open, flexible evenings where anything was possible. Other students—often from public school—were used to shorter class times and found the schedule unsettling. Many adapted over the semester, but some couldn’t handle the massive change. They weren’t used to getting into a state of flow.

I grew to appreciate why I’d been drawn to art in the first place. Throughout my early teens I had a key ingredient required to create—the time to tinker and play. Of course, unlimited time does nothing without the drive to push forward and ship. But I was motivated by something I didn’t fully understand—an intrinsic curiosity. I kept pushing with a desire to create and shape the things in my head.

It was validating to realize I wasn’t alone. Throwing myself into an idea for hours, then shipping it (a skill I’m still learning), makes creativity a joy. Trusting the process, then, can lead to beautiful (and often unexpected) results.

The second thing that stuck with me was my teacher’s attitude toward grading creativity.

She didn’t.

Or rather, she didn’t offer objective feedback or see herself as a critic. She had no interest in calling out bad drawing skills or poor use of media. Even at times when I thought that a piece of mine or another student’s was rubbish.

She did have strong opinions, like her utter distaste for Thomas Kinkade’s commercialism or her belief that kids lose their love for art when forced to draw inside the lines. She often launched into extended rants on these, and many other, topics. But when it came to the actual artistic work of her students, she offered nothing but praise and support.

Instead of criticising poor brush strokes she encouraged us to copy the artists of old and learn how they created their lines. Instead of coming around and telling us our portraits were poor imitations of the model, she found ways to praise and lift us up.

My teacher knew something that took me a while to learn—that people don’t create great art when they’re being knocked down. Instead, the best work comes from feeling free, safe, and ready to make happy little accidents.

When it comes to creative work, offering brutal honesty is a fiction.

It doesn’t exist.

Years ago I listened to Kristine Kathryn Rusch offer advice on how she reviews fiction from her students. Instead of being a critic she is a supporter. Her job is to be a cheerleader, guiding the writer on their journey.

The goal is not to fix someone’s creative output today, but to offer little bits of encouragement that keep the artist going tomorrow.

So what about candid feedback and helping creatives improve? It’s not our job to callout things we perceive as wrong. In the best case scenario there might be limited improvements and a strained connection with the artist. But more likely the artist will be pushed one step closer to giving up on the work entirely.

You may be thinking artists need to get thicker skin and deal with it. Don’t worry, they do. The ones who survive develop the ability to hunker down, push back, and keep moving despite the critique. But they do this despite the feedback, not because of it.

This isn’t a situation where an emperor is getting called out for no clothes. We shouldn’t falsely praise someone’s work as the next Michaelangelo. But we also shouldn’t discourage and callout anyone’s work as rubbish. That’s not our job when presented with work by an artist.

Instead we can callout areas we love, find pieces we can genuinely praise, and then gently encourage the person to keep creating.

So many become discouraged from making the thing they were put into this world to create. Each day we can take a few minutes and lift up instead of teardown.