My Honest Story – How I Became An Artist
I recently reached 100 followers, which is kinda big deal for me, because it not only gives me the chance to share my thoughts, advice and experience with more people, but I can also connect with them and develop friendships all over the world.
In addition to this, I realised that I ‘ve been avoiding exposing myself since I created this blog and I was trying to have a more polished image on the interwebs (I love this word!). On the other hand, what I love most when I scout through other blogs is how people show their true colors and share their stories alongside with good and bad times. Their success and failures. So here’s mine, on how I became the artist I today claim to be. Raw and unpolished.
I was drawing since I was a little girl. I was told I was good at it and I was also enjoying it, so I kept doing it. When I was in high school I attended drawing classes for 6 months under the instructions of a very gifted, yet conservative teacher, who tought me how to capture steal life with my pencil and I still thank him for that.
Later on I lead my way through University in the Department of Audiovisual Arts and while I was more than excited to be there at the first place, it turn out it wasn’t serving me at all. I was dreaming a career in illustration, but the school’s blurred schedule, that was unpleasantly changing every year, was forcing me with monstrosity to attend classes that I hated, like programming, sound engineering, truly basic Photoshop techniques and modern painting, that was communicated in a completely useless way to us by a not-so-trust-worthy teacher.
Despite the odds, I was trying to do my best by taking every drawing class available. At the time I was admiring my teacher, which happened to be a great painter, but the worst educator possible. His inferiority complex was higher than ever and he was making me feel bad about myself and my art, emphasising that I had to compete with more experienced and better artists than me and I wouldn’t be able to make a living as an illustrator, or comics creator, which I was so much craving to be. What a douche! I was trying to draw things that would satisfy him and get his approval, but all I ever got in the end was quit drawing at all, because I wasn’t creating anything that was true to myself and my spirit wasn’t being feed by the beauty of creativity at all. I wasn’t letting my mind be expressed by my art, because I was so terrified of other people’s and my teacher’s judgment. I wouldn’t be good enough, I wouldn’t be talented enough, I wouldn’t be brilliant enough. I wouldn’t be enough. I was so wrong, but I didn’t know any better at the time. Even at this very moment that I write these lines I feel liberated for admitting that to myself.
Long story short, I quitted all artistic work for a while, actually more than a while, I moved to a new country, spending a year in Czech Republic and trying to figure out what I was gonna do with my life and the things that I’m passionate about, if there were any. I discovered writing. Actually it was more of a realisation than a discovery, since I’ve been feeling dozens of notebooks with my written stories, dreams, ambitions and fears and I honestly enjoy it. I tried to break through journalism, but I couldn’t find any paying job and I don’t believe in working for free, so I stopped looking.
The months and years were passing by and I was still unsure about my bright future, even though deep down I know it was gonna turn illuminating somehow. I couldn’t find a way to turn things around and then I discovered the magical world of self-help. I Have to admit I was more than suspicious at first and even a disbeliever at the sound of it, but I came across so much useful material that really helped me move forward, so I became a fanatic.
What is more, I started drawing again. And this time I wasn’t afraid to make mistakes. I know that nothing is perfect all along, you have to work for it and evolve your skills through mistakes, failure, experiments and faith. And I was rewarded for my courage to put myself out there. My drawing is only becoming better. Even if I draw some bad sketches sometimes, I keep making them until they turn better and better..
Plus, my creativity fulfills me in an unexpected way that I hadn’t experienced before and I use my art to communicate with others. This is my purpose. This is the reason of my existence. To create something everyday. I write and I draw. And I connect with other like-minded people. And I exchange texts and messages and I talk. And I make new friends. And I expand my mind. And I learn. I Keep learning. I Keep evolving. I Keep the magic going.
That’s why I am an illustrator. To make my own world and help others express theirs.
What is your story? What have you been struggling with? Did you get over it, or is it still bothering you somehow? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Love until next time!