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
🤨 Why am I doing this again?
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Why am I writing this essay?
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 to the wrong questions. Questions like: How many ❤️s did it get? Was it optimized for Google’s search engine? Was it better than an essay someone else wrote? Did Beyoncé like it? Not my problem. This happens when I draw too. I’ll put down my pen, look at the page, and feel … disappointment. What happened to the hair? Why did I use that horrible teal? Who is this even supposed to be? Why can’t I draw fingers? What will Facebook think? Why aren’t I as good as what’s-their-name on Instagram? ​ But none of those were the reason for doing this particular drawing. I sat down to draw tonight because I had a free hour and I wanted to sit in my studio, put on some Coltrane, play with my tempera sticks, and practice drawing like Miroslav Sasek. And I did all of those things. Exactly like I wanted to. Success. But as soon as the drawing was done, those questions crept in. Sharper. Louder. Meaner. Criteria I hadn’t agreed to, but still felt compelled to obey. I ordered chicken paillard and now I’m beating myself up because I didn’t get the haddock. ​ That’s what I try to remind myself whenever I slide into this trap. To focus on not just what I made, but what I meant. Not just where I got, but where I was going. Did it serve the purpose I gave it? Did it scratch the itch I sat down with? Can I be satisfied with just the pure joy of creation? ​ Not everything has to be meaningful or deep. Sometimes the point is just to play. Or to move my hand. Or to be quiet with myself for a while. But whatever the reason, I need to be clear about it. Because when I remember my intention, I judge the result differently. Less like a critic. More like a witness. A partner. A friend. Lately, I’ve been thinking: maybe that’s the only real measure. Not whether the thing I made is good or worthy or impressive— but whether it stayed true to the reason I sat down to make it. ​ If I drew because I wanted to draw, if I wrote because I had something to figure out, then that’s enough. That’s all there is. ​ I forget that all the time. But I’m trying to get better at remembering. ​ Maybe that’s what this whole thing was about. Your pal, Danny |
Danny Gregory: I help you make art again
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
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