Are you afraid to draw?
I know, it makes no sense. We love to draw. Our love of art defines who we are. Why should we be afraid of it?
Ah, but that’s just the problem.
It’s because we love it so much, because it defines us, that the stakes are so ridiculously high. The cost of failure is terrifying. If we try to draw something and fail, we’ve failed right at our core, at the deepest level of ourselves.
That’s why it takes courage to draw. That’s why sometimes when I sit down to start drawing, I get an inexplicable attack of nerves. I start thinking of other things I could be doing. Maybe I’ll just tidy the kitchen a bit first.
So today, I’ve got a story about courage for you. It’s a story that I hope will inspire you, one that I hope you’ll be able to bear in mind the next time you pick up a pencil and get an attack of the willies.
The First Mark Takes the Most Courage
A little while ago, I was giving a drawing workshop. We were doing an exercise I created to help people with getting a drawing habit established. It’s a pretty simple exercise. I call it Breathing Lines.
It involves drawing vertical, parallel lines with a pencil, stick of charcoal, or Chinese brush and ink, in time to your breathing.
Breathe in, draw a line down. Breathe out, draw a line up. It looks like this when you’ve finished it:
Or, if you’re doing it with charcoal, it looks like this:
You can do a really meditative version of it with Chinese brush and ink, like this:
It’s a fairly simple exercise to do. I mean, it’s not like you’re actually drawing anything. It’s just drawing straight lines. Simple, right?
Paralysed by fear
Not so. Back to the workshop, and my story of courage.
We were a bit of a way into the session when one of the attendees caught my eye. She was sitting still, not drawing, staring at her paper.
There was something about the way she was sitting, something about her energy that gave me pause. So I went over to see how she was doing.
Then I noticed her hands were trembling. She looked at me with something like panic in her eyes, a kind of pleading that I registered without understanding why it was there. I realised that she hadn’t yet made a mark.
Resistance and the war of art
For anyone who’s read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, you probably know where this is going to go next. Pressfield talks a lot about a concept he calls resistance in that book. He describes resistance almost as a physical being. Resistance is fear, fear that we’ll fail at something that matters to us more than anything else in our lives. Resistance stops us from doing that which matters most to us.
This lady had come face to face with resistance in its most powerful form.
I confess I didn’t know what to do for a moment.
Then, after asking her permission, I gently took her hand and guided it down the paper. Her hand was still trembling like a leaf. But slowly, a single charcoal line appeared on the paper.
Then another. I let go of her hand, and she continued on her own.
Gradually, her confidence built, and she went on to work through the next two exercises. At the end of the session, she came up to me and told me that despite loving art, those simple charcoal lines were the first bit of drawing she’d done in 40 years.
The Meaning of Courage
That lady is my hero. Because she was the most scared person in the room.
She was also the most brave. She showed incredible courage. Not just in making that mark, but in signing up for the course in the first place. And then just by turning up. Then by coming into the room and sitting down. Can you imagine the pressure she must have been under?
But she turned up anyway.
I think her example is one that can help us in our own small battles everyday, to turn up, sit down and to do the work we know it’s going to take to birth the dreams and visions we have of what we can create, to make them real.
Pressfield talks about the difference between the pro and the amateur. Not in terms of whether you get paid for what you do. For Pressfield, a pro is someone who turns up every day despite the resistance. Who does their work despite the fear. That lady was a pro.
I find his book inspirational, and it helps me with many things, not just drawing. It helps me with writing for this blog, with publishing posts like this when I don’t know how people will react to them, with believing in what I have to give enough to build a drawing practice program that I hope will help people grow.
All of those things take courage for me. I experience resistance every time I sit down to write a blog post, every time I try to design a new drawing exercise I think will teach people a skill. I experience it most whenever I try to bring myself to let people know about my practice program, and ask them to join.
That’s the work that matters most to me, so it’s the work that scares me the most.
What work scares you the most? That’s probably the work you find the hardest to do. It may well be the work that you need to do before you do anything else, the work you’re here to do.
Let go of the result
One of the most effective ways I’ve found to deal with resistance, to work despite the fear, is to try to embrace the process, rather than the result.
In drawing, that means practice, don’t produce. See yourself as a musician practising scales. You’re not on a stage performing. You’re not going to make a great work of art today. You’re probably not even going to make your own best piece.
But you can certainly practice.
And each bit of practice you do brings you far closer to producing your best yet than sitting thinking about it, rationalising why you didn’t draw again today.
Don’t let yourself get away with that.
Be brave. Be a pro.
If the lady at my drawing workshop can do that, if she can face her fears then so can we. We can make sure we show up.
Best wishes and thanks for reading,
Paul
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Dear Paul,
I am reading you for some time and I am really enjoying your posts. This one especially is a combination of introspection, observation, not only a post for improving drawing which I found extraordinary. I had and I am still having this fear of evaluation, but you are absolutely right, it will not go away just by sitting and waiting, you should be pro, pro in willing to understand, pro in observing and in taking actions. In this regard I am doing my best, appearing, sitting, exactly like the lady in your session. I am therefore proud of myself:) Please keep going with your posts and practice and maybe in the future I will be able to attend to your sessions.
With appreciation and best regards, Mirela
PS I have no idea why I am writing this comment like being a letter, but why not? Let it be!
Thank you Mirela. You absolutely should be proud of yourself. It’s easy to forget to congratulate ourselves on our little successes, and showing up is definitely one of them.
I suffer from this very problem. It is good to know this is a common problem and that I am not the only one. This article will help me move forward. Thank you!
Thank you Jennefer, I’m really happy to hear that. Not only is it common, it’s prevalent – even among professional artists whose work may amaze you. We all suffer from this at some point.
Thanks Paul!
Always good to read your thoughts. You put information and ideas together in ways that are understandable and motivating. Thanks for YOUR courage and persistence.
Kathryn
Thank you Kathryn!
Thanks Paul, your email was a very timely arrival yet again. I’m starting to get my head around practice rather than production. Turning up more often ie getting a daily practice routine is my new challenge, although I find myself doing more thinking about what I am actually seeing and how to interpret that on paper- hope this is not my new procrastination?
Heh, it could be 🙂
Why not try breathing lines for 5 minutes at the start of each session? It puts you in a nice, relaxed frame of mind and means that you’ll put pencil to paper at least once a day. I think that’s a very underrated thing 🙂
This is exercise was so zen for me i kept asking myself is my brushstroke following my breathing or is my breathing being set by the brushstoke. A true AUM moment. 🙂
Wonderful! Thanks for sharing Phil.
Funnily enough I found myself holding my breath as I read about the moment you hesitated, not feeling sure how to best proceed. It sounds as if you listened to your instinct and the way you helped her, so gently and respectfully, and without taking over or making her feel helpless, was wonderful and moving. Your generosity in sharing these insights with us is powerful and so helpful. I will look up that book. Also one I heard about on the Savvy Painter podcast today, called Mindset, about seeing each painting as a lesson. Thank you Paul!
Thank you Caroline. I still don’t know if what I did was right. But, the lady in question came up and thanked me at the end of the session, which is when she told me that she hadn’t drawn for 40 years. It was all I could do not to cry, it was that moving. So, I suppose I could have done worse.
It was a privilege to have her in my workshop, I’ll never forget what she gave me. It was infinitely more valuable than anything I could have given her. The irony is that it was my first ever workshop. I was feeling the same fear she was.
Thanks for the mention of the book, I’ll look it up. I love the idea of seeing each painting as a lesson.
Hello Paul
I have been reading your stuff for a while now, but this is the first time I’ve commented. I have just joined an art class. Just getting there was an effort–even cleaning the bathroom was a better option, but I went. It was called a beginners class, but was anything but! As I sat there I was wondering if any one else felt like me but I didn’t say anything about it to the others. But I think, next week, I will. I think that a lot of people must feel like this person in your class, but never work up the courage to say anything ( I didn’t) but after reading this I might.
I have not touched anything “arty” since school, when I was told that I absolutely had no talent. Now I am nearly 60 I am having another go!
Thanks for this blog and your site, they are very helpful indeed and have helped push me back to art.
thanks
Hi Lyn, thanks for the comment, I’m really glad to hear that you’re finding the site useful.
Firstly, congratulations. Taking that first step and signing up for a class is huge, I’m very proud of you that you’ve managed to do it!
Secondly, I think you should mention it. You’re exactly right, I’m sure you’re not the only one feeling like that. You’ll probably find that the teacher will go out of his or her way to help you feel more at home and relaxed, and to help you find your level. If they don’t, put it down to experience and find another class – talk to the teacher first, if you can, and tell them your background and ask if the class is going to be right for you.
Thnx sir for all the topics, but i do have a big issue i stoped drawing and practice for more than 3 years and when it comes to practice or draw i face this evil fear, i please could you advice me how should i start and with what ??….many thanks
The main thing is to start really, really small. I have an exercise I call “Just Open Your Sketchpad” and it’s exactly that. for a whole week. show up every day, open your sketchpad, and write “practice completed” and the date, but don’t draw anything. That’s the beginning of getting a drawing habit established.
After that, try having a look at this post, some of the ideas there may help you with ideas for what to draw one you’ve actually started showing up every day 🙂
https://www.learning-to-see.co.uk/six-simple-drawing-projects
I hope that helps.
Hi Paul,
This is my first visit to your site and this is a truly inspiring post.
Thank You!
Thank you Lydia, that’s great to hear. I’m really glad you liked it.
I am a 52 year old man and a photographer. I burst out crying when I read this as you touched my pressure relief valve.
Thanks and may the force be with you !
Patrick
Thank you so much Patrick. I’m really glad to have helped.