From Neill Cameron’s Twitter:
I was working recently with a bunch of kids who kept tearing up their own drawings in frustration, so I did something I’ve not done before.
I talked honestly to a classroom full of children about how much I hate my own drawing.
Okay, not the full extent. These kids ain’t ready to hear that. But that I do.
They were kind of appalled, and horrified and fascinated, but anyway, they stopped tearing up their drawings.
As I attempted to explain it — and many of you reading this will know already — when you make a drawing, there are two versions of it.
There’s the version that exists in your head, and then there’s the version that ends up on paper.
And because you can see both versions, you can’t help but compare them, and feel frustrated by the difference.
But here’s the thing, and I think it’s easy to forget this: no-one else can see that first version.
They can’t judge against it. They can only see, and judge, the version that exists on paper.
And you know what, this sounds crazy, but they might actually like it for what it is. They might think it’s cool that you made it.
I mean, holy god, if you guys could see the version of Mega Robo Bros that exists in my head.
Your eyeballs would melt and your heart be burned away by sheer divine fire of amazingness.
But the differences between that version and what’s on the page are only visible to me, and shouldn’t — can’t — matter to anyone else.
If a draing goes a bit wrong, ah well. Look at it, learn, try and make the next one better.
Or, possibly even better: abandon false objective notions of quality altogether and just enjoy the process, the activity, of making a thing.
Not quite how I phrased it to the Year5s, but hopefully you get the idea.
IN SUMMARY: be kinder to your drawings, and yourselves. I know, it’s hard. But try.
(Though this was written by a visual artist, the advice is applicable across creative disciplines – be kind to yourselves and to your stories!)
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