A few days ago, someone wrote in to our website to ask what it is I actually teach. She wanted to know what the style is called because she has taken a lot of art lessons and they all apparently have labels that describe what it is, what school of art they belong to, I guess. I swallowed hard. Someone was finally calling my bluff. They were on to the fact that I'm not a real artist, let alone a real art teacher. I wrote the following to explain my way out of this corner. I hope I don’t sound too defensive. Dear R___________: I don't think of what I do as a way of drawing but as a way of living. I use drawing as a way to gain a greater appreciation of my life, to look at things around me longer and harder than I normally would, and to help me to be more present and appreciative of what my life contains. I try to slow myself down when I draw and connect to my feelings about the moment. I've been doing this for a couple of decades now so I like to reshuffle the deck periodically, to make sure I'm not getting jaded by developing a style and approach that somehow automates and dulls the experience. To that end, I study other artists and they influence me for a while until that influence just becomes part of me. Generally, I just pick stuff up as I go along and consider the whole thing an adventure. And it's an adventure that I want to encourage other people to go on too, either with me or on their own. It's done so much for me that I can't help being a missionary for drawing, but I don't have a real answer as to how you personally should do it best or what your art should look like. I don't intend to teach anyone a specific style of art making, but rather to encourage them, through exposure to lots of different artists and ideas and materials, to come up with an approach that engages and suits them. If you insist on calling it something, how about "illustrated journaling"? That's usually been my default when pressed, because I like diaries, and illustrated books, and maps, and diagrams, and stuff that feels like a record of the journey we're on. Your pal, Danny P.S. I’d like to ask for your help to make the world a better place. It’ll take you 11 seconds. Here’s the deal: I need you click this link and go to YouTube and subscribe to our channel. Here’s why I’m asking: When you subscribe, 1) the almighty Google algorithm will share my video essays with more people. 2) Eventually, we’ll be able to reach all 8,000,0000,000 people who watch YouTube. 3) They will all start to draw. 4) They will stop fighting and polluting and being mean and, faster than you can say ‘Kumbaya’, the world will be nicer, the polar bears will be saved, and other cool stuff will happen that may or may not involve alien visitation. All you have to do is click this link to our channel and then click the Subscribe button. Already subscribed? (thanks!) Then invite everyone you have ever met to subscribe to the channel. Come on, you with me? Let's do this thing! |
Each Friday, I send advice, ideas, stories and tips to 25K creative people like you. Author of 13 best-selling books on creativity. Founder of Sketchbook Skool w 50k+ students
Lately, I’ve been spending time with a new online tool called Cosmos. It’s a way to collect and curate visual inspiration—kind of like Pinterest, but without the ads, algorithms, and kitchen makeovers. What sets Cosmos apart is its focus: it’s filled with images curated by designers, illustrators, and artists. Real people with real taste. And the quality of what they’ve gathered is next level. I recommend you try it, but that’s not the point of this essay. As I meandered through the site, I...
I'm writing this under an enormous redwood tree in Northern California, a thousand miles from home. I’m in a friend’s backyard, having just slept in the top bunk of a tiny cabin. I had almond milk in my coffee and cottage cheese in my pancakes. Being a guest in someone else's home means making a hundred small adjustments—from the density of the pillows to the taste of the water. It reminds me how much of a creature of habit I’ve become. This is my first proper vacation in five years. A couple...
Why am I writing this essay? Because it’s almost Friday, and I always send out an essay each Friday. Because I’m a writer, and writers write. Because (most of the time) I love doing this—arranging ideas, picking words. Because I want to see the finished piece. And feel that sense of satisfaction. Because I do this for you. But more, I do this for me. But does it matter why I do this? Absolutely. Because if I mistake my motivations and I’m fuzzy on my goals, I could end up looking for answers...