We always hear about art being the best form of expression. Now, I’m not sure if it’s the absolute best, but it’s definitely a way to express something. Except…what do you do when there’s nothing to express, yet you still feel this urge to create? Sure, there are better ways to channel emotions and thoughts, but there’s this itch to take a blank page or canvas and turn it into something it never dreamed of being. This is where I think artists truly shine.
It’s not just about conquering that “fear of the blank canvas”—it’s about communicating without even trying. I’ve realized this through my own journey as an artist. I’ve dabbled in illustration, painting, murals, book covers, graphic design, logos, comics—pretty much everything in between. Yet, sometimes, I don’t feel like an artist. And yes, I’m familiar with imposter syndrome, but this feels a little different. I know I’m an artist, but I still struggle with what that means—like, who am I as an artist? And what’s the point of the art I create?
Why do I bother making anything if it’s not for someone else? Why start a personal art series just to show you what’s been on my mind or heart—or sometimes, neither, but I just really want to use an ink pen or paintbrush. I’ve learned that true artists (okay, I won’t say “real” because I know that’ll stir up some opinions) will find a way to create, no matter what. Even if that means reworking something they’ve already done—because it’s never boring to make it better. Fortunately, I have sat with myself long enough to answer these hard questions and answer them honestly.
Why Bother Creating Art?
Beyond expression, humans are natural storytellers. We have this innate need to share whatever captivates us, like preserving a moment or a feeling so it can last a little longer. For me, creating art became a way to capture and hold onto whatever caught my attention.
For the longest time, I found myself obsessed with drawing eyes—tired eyes, surprised eyes, old eyes, new eyes. They’d spill onto page after page, drawn mostly from memory, or at least my own version of it. There’s something about eyes—they don’t lie. They tell stories the mouth can’t. Each eye I drew felt like a study, not just of the subject, but of myself, of the way I saw things.
Those sketches took the weight of the world off my shoulders for a while. It was an escape, but also an analysis. I could spend time understanding why I was so drawn to them. Why eyes, of all things, were the focal point of my attention. I created for myself first, long before I ever shared my work with others. It was personal—a way to make sense of what fascinated me.
But when I did start sharing, something happened. People connected with it. They would look at my drawings and try to decode the meaning behind them, or at least what they thought the meaning was. It’s funny how people see a part of themselves in art, even if it was never intended for that purpose. That’s when I realized: creating to share with others is powerful. Even if the feedback isn’t always what you expect or hope for, it’s still valuable. Because not everyone will love your work. And that’s okay.
Art doesn’t have to be for everyone. The beauty of it is in reaching those few people who do resonate with it—the ones who get curious, who feel seen or understood by what you’ve made. That’s what people truly crave from art: the sense that someone else out there gets it, gets “them’.
And that’s the beauty of creating art—not to appease the masses, but to share something genuine, to express yourself in a way that connects with the right people. The ones who see your work and feel a spark of recognition. You’re not just creating to be heard; you’re creating to make others feel less alone in the world. And that, to me, is what makes art so incredible.
When To Create
Now, I’m a firm believer in creating as much as possible. Preferably, in ways that excite you, but honestly, in any way that keeps you moving. Just create. Being creative is a responsibility to yourself—once you’ve got that natural gift or urge, you owe it to yourself to keep that cup full. And let me tell you, the only way to do that is to push yourself creatively. You’ve got to work it out, kind of like you would your biceps.
You know how doing curls will make your arms stronger, right? Well, creativity works the same way. You have to challenge it, add more weight, and keep it engaged. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. But here’s the real beauty: it doesn’t have to be extraordinary every time. Sometimes, we get caught up in the idea that everything we make needs to be groundbreaking or life-changing. But honestly? It’s okay if it’s not.
Sometimes, just showing up and creating something is enough. Whether it’s a quick sketch or an hour of doodling, the act itself is what keeps your creative muscles strong. Think of it like a warm-up—it might not be your best work, but it’s still progress. You’re still flexing those creative muscles. And that’s the part people often miss.
You don’t always need a grand project or perfect inspiration. Sometimes, the act of creating for the sake of creating is what keeps the flow alive. That’s where true growth happens. It’s in those quiet moments when you’re just going through the motions—no pressure, no expectations—that your creativity really starts to flourish.
And let’s be real: we’ve all had those moments where we sit down, and what we create feels like a complete mess. But even then, you’re learning something, whether it’s a new technique or a different way of looking at things. It’s like adding a few more pounds to the weight bar—you might not notice the strength immediately, but it’s there.
Question: when to create? The answer: always. Even when you’re not feeling particularly inspired, actually, especially when you’re not feeling inspired. Because that’s when you’re giving yourself room to grow. You’re keeping your creative spirit alive, and more importantly, you’re honoring that need to make something out of nothing.
And remember, not every workout is a record-breaker. Some days, you’ll be on fire and crank out your best work. Other days, it’ll feel like pulling teeth just to finish a sketch. But both days matter. They’re both part of the process. The point is, you’re still showing up, and in the long run, that’s what strengthens your creative muscles.
I know that everyone won’t feel the same as I do about art, like I said earlier, my art and artistic ways aren’t for everyone. However, answering those two questions honestly for myself is what has kept me steady creating art for 15 years. I feel like I did something for past, present, and future self by honing in on my God given talent to share and help others today.
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