I remember starting my first year of illustration and being absolutely terrified. It was a scary prospect – moving to an entirely different town, where I knew no one. And, worst of all, I was surrounded by creatives who I believed were all better than me; I was no longer one of the rare few ‘artistic ones’ in my small town at home.
During my first term especially, I was convinced that my drawings were all poor replicas of the artistic masterpieces of my peers either side of me. It took a little bit of time for me to get used to my distinct lack of confidence; of being certain that I was the worst in the room, and that I didn’t belong there at all.
It took me a little longer to realise that this was entirely untrue.
People always tell you that ‘art is subjective’, but I was always worried that this wasn’t the case; people could tell when I didn’t have ‘basic skills’ that could effectively illustrate for an audience. And yet, through starting the course, and integrating my life wholeheartedly into the world of illustration, I started to see professional works of illustrators and began to finally understand that illustration is an art form – not a maths test. It doesn’t have right and wrong answers; even my lecturers disagreed with each other about the images they included in the lectures – one might say they ‘love it’, whilst another might think it ‘really ugly’.
I started to understand that for me, illustration, and my degree, is about passion and inspiration and expression. I didn’t want to create drawings that were identical to those of the person next to me, nor did I want to create just to please other people. I wanted to illustrate things that I enjoyed, that excited me! After all, isn’t that what my lecturers had been trying to encourage since the very beginning? Something they had reiterated time and time again throughout the course? I realised that once I started creating for me and began to make the most of the incredible resources and opportunities around me (without that exasperating voice in the back of my mind telling me that everything I was creating was ‘wrong’), the quality of my work genuinely improved.
As I spoke to my peers – as I experienced my first critique with people I’d never spoken to before – I understood that everyone around me was significantly less judgemental of my work than I was, and in fact, really quite kind and helpful. ‘We are our own worst critics’ has always been true within the creative sphere; when I had the chance to get genuine feedback on my work – realistic and impartial advice that taught me all about my own work with practicality in an environment that was friendly and welcoming, I learnt that I wasn’t quite as bad as I thought – and that I should really make the most of this incredible community of people whilst I could.
When I managed to speak to my tutors to receive personal, tailored feedback of my own work, I realised that what I was doing was learning. I would create images that sometimes I really didn’t like, and create images that sometimes I really, really liked! And, most importantly, this work was individual to me. There was no point looking around the room anxiously to see if everyone had made beautiful paintings fit for the Pre-Raphaelite era while my stick man stood weakly on a blank page in comparison – because that was their work, and this was mine, and I was still figuring things out (and also, most likely, being a little overdramatic). In fact, once I let myself recognise that the fact that my peers were clever and creative and inspirational was not synonymous with them being my competitors and nor did it bring my work down at all, I understood that I was actually incredibly lucky to be around creatives – just as they were likely to think the same about me.
Even as I write this, I recognise that I am still quite critical of my work, and I am still learning to embrace the mistakes and be a little less anxious. But, if I can offer you any advice at all if you’re feeling similar, it’s to engage with other people around you. Teach each other! Make the most of the community around you – even if you’re a little nervous – because once you ground yourself in these lovely, friendly people, you start stepping back from that silly voice in your mind.
And most important of all: create without restraint. Just create. It will be what it will be. You can always make more!
