My path to becoming an artist

Which is actually being an artist the entire time and the path it took to realise that

I am an artist. I can say that now. Sort of (not going to lie, not 100% sure I would say this to my work colleagues just yet, but I am working on it.)

I am an artist. Go me (woo!).

But as alluded to in my previous blog post (link here), I did not always think this. And as you can probably tell from my bold intro, I am still struggling with this a bit. So for my blog today, I want to get into that some more.

a young Padlilly

Here is a picture I found from my childhood

Aren’t we adorable??

From left to right, my little sister, my dad, ME, and my mum

I was actually looking for an ‘about me’ post (subsequently abandoned, I don’t think anyone wants to just read a biography), but what struck me about this picture is the pencil and paper in my hand.

Art was a huge part of my childhood. My dad is brilliant at all things art, craft, DIY, making and creating. I have so many wonderful memories of doing creative activities with him and my sister. And my amazing, supportive mum would give so much encouragement and praise that, as a child at least, I found confidence and enjoyment in my creations.

And then secondary school happened

And puberty, to be fair to my secondary school. Teenager years are tough, and unfortunately as a high achieving but highly anxious teenager, the validation of my teachers was of utmost importance.

And I never got any from my art teachers.

Looking back, I am not exactly why this was the case. From years 7-9 (for non UK readers, ages 11-14, the years where you do not have any choice about the subjects you study), I was a good student with decent skill, kept her head down and got on. I wasn’t amazing, nor was I badly behaved, so as whole I was ignored.

This resulted in me initially deciding not to do art GCSE (first formal qualifications you take at 16). When I told my art teacher at parents evening, he was really surprised - and this resulted in a rather big telling off by my dad to said art teacher about the need to actually encourage kids or they may end up thinking they are not good enough (my dad was piiiisssseed).

It was enough to change my mind, and off I went to art GCSE classes and… was solidly ignored again, but this time with the added bonus of sitting next to one of my best friends who was a genius and got all the attention.

From what I could remember, we were never really taught techniques, or given much option to try different styles. Maybe it just wasn’t done in a way I picked up and learnt from, but if anything my art got worse as I could no longer draw things I loved in a way that excited me.

I came out with a B in art and a firm belief that I had a slightly above average talent at sketching, but nothing to right home about, and absolutely no creative skills.

(I know that a B overall is pretty good, but I was an A/A* student. That B was my only B and my worst grade. Also, my artwork was actually more of a C level, it was the A* essays that pulled it up)

((Also, I am really not trying to say B, or a C, is a bad grade, it’s all relative. If you have Bs and Cs and you are proud of them, too right you should be, go you!))

Rediscovering my love of creating

For a few years after that, I don’t think I created much at all. I did my A-levels (second formal qualification at 18) and went off to university. I studied mathematics, if you are interest, which I loved every second of (and still wish I could go back and study more today) - there is so much beauty in maths, and I could write a whole blog on how ingrained social attitudes about maths put kids at an automatic disadvantage, but I digress.

It was during university when I started to create again. A key moment was when I bought, on a whim, a small canvas and some acrylic paints. I used them to paint my dad something for his birthday, and I can still remember his shock and delight when I gave it to him.

Here it is - still on my parents wall

Unfortunately I cannot find the original, if you know it please do reach out so I can give appropriate credit

It really sparked something in me, and before I knew it I was painting and drawing all over the place. It felt wonderful to make things again.

But I was still firmly in the “I am not an artist, I just have some technical skills” camp, and looking back it is so interesting how that viewpoint warped all my thinking.

I did quite a few pieces that were copies of others artwork - openly, giving credit and never to sell, just for myself or gifts to family. But instead of seeing this as a legitimate tool to develop my skills and style, I saw it as validation that I was unable to actually create.

I also drew portraits from photos of actors that I would get signed at conventions. I was most proud of these (and still am, they are awesome), but even then, they were not worthy, because I copied, even though how do you draw a portrait without copying the person’s face??

And when I did try my hand at original artwork, I always considered it mediocre and inferior, and therefore clearly proof I wasn’t an artist. My brain had latched on firmly to the idea that Artists (capital A) were amazing from the get go, no practice and development needed. Ergo, I could not be an Artist.

Unnamed by Padlilly

One of my first original pieces in acrylic. But an uncreative one, clearly.

So ingrained was this belief, that I would loudly and passionately argue it whenever challenged. My parents support for my art never waivered, but even they stopped trying to argue with me on this point.

so what changed?

I would like to say that it was some epic moment, or a really well placed inspiring comment, but ultimately it was this:

I kept on being an artist until I realised I was.

Sorry, that was pretty anticlimactic right?

But its true. Once I started creating again, it was like a dam had burst. I kept drawing and painting, and then I started to get excited about other techniques like pen and ink, and digital art. And I kept seeing artists who inspired me, and I wanted to try their styles out. And the whole time I had these original ideas bubbling in my head, and whilst I struggled at first to make them reality in a way I was happy, I kept trying and improving and learning, until I got to the point where I realised that I was creating original pieces of art work all the time. And that they didn’t suck. And all the arguments I held on to about why I was not an Artist didn’t really hold up any more.

So I kind of had to admit it. I was, in fact, an artist. The art was in me all along.

So what the hell was the point of writing (and reading) this blog post???

I hope you are not feeling 3 question mark frustrated at this stage. Because there is a point.

I wish I had realised sooner. I wish I had given myself permission to develop as an artist and feel proud of myself. I wish that, during that time, every piece I made wasn’t clouded with the sadness that I wasn’t an Artist.

And so I want to make this point loud and clear to anyone out there who is reading this and something chimes with them.

Anyone who creates art is an artist
Every artist learns and grows
You do not have to reach a level of skill before you can consider yourself an artist

There are no rules, not on innate skill, or the frequency you create, or that you always have to have a drawing pad to hand, or anything. Learn from other artists, but don’t compare. Remember that people put their best out there, not the worst. Be competitive with yourself, no one else. And always be kind.

And on that heavy note, I will sign off, but with another picture of Catherine because it’s the best way to end anything really.