Thoughts on art and motivation, in short.

01-16-2026

For a long while, I was very much in love with drawing. I filled up notebooks and could never stop. I guess at some point between elementary and high school, I realized I am not as good as I thought I was. For a while, I was okay with this. But in the last few years, I’ve surrounded myself with avid artists, people who draw amazingly and, I assumed, easily. This made me want to draw more, but everytime I picked up a pencil and put it to paper, I disappointed myself more and more. I came out with one or two good drawings, maybe a handful in a year, but never was I ever able to crank out great pieces as I hoped I would. Eventually, I settled on being good at other things. Being a decent writer, decent at a handful of crafts, a good cook and baker. But drawing was always what I really wanted to do.

In all honesty, I was torturing myself. I want to draw, so I draw, I disappoint myself, so I tear it up and never try again. Over. And over. And over. At this point, I don’t know what’s worse: not drawing, or drawing and disappointing myself.

As of recently, I have discussed the matter with two people whose opinions I care about deeply, love, and admire their work. I got the same response from both, which was to keep trying. One tells me he thinks I am a great artist, but I hold myself back with deeper insecurities, and that he would not tell me this or push me to continue if he did not think I was actually talented. It’s taken me a long time to believe any praise I get, but I think I am starting to. I think the advice is taking hold, I’ve been drawing more and have been able to get a handful of good pieces I am proud of. Mostly of an original character I made up not too long ago, and mostly using hockey players for references, but anything is something, and anything is a good step forward.

I would really like to get back in drawing shape the way I once was, I hope I can continue this streak. I had forgotten how much I really love it.