at the beginning

become comfortable with messy starts.

I had the idea the other day to play with drawing animals. Normally my drawings are more creature focused—the kind only found in my imagination. But I was curious if drawing more recognizable animals might be a fun adventure to dip my toe into and a good practice to start back at the beginning again.

Practicing beginnings helps me become comfortable with messy starts. I can’t get good at anything if I am scared of it looking horrible. It’s the messy times that allow us to experiment and explore new ideas. But it does take practice to allow the pen to flow without being judgmental about what ends up on the page. If my brain is so busy criticizing those first lines, it doesn’t notice that my heart feels full and alive just for taking a tiny step into new territory.

Diving into a new beginning allows me to gain new skills, it also allows me to continue exploring what projects make me smile. There was a time I thought that I needed to struggle or else it wasn’t worth anything. Those finished pieces felt heavy to look at, the same kind of heaviness that I felt while making them. I’ve come to realize how important it is to enjoy the whole process, even the bumpy and uncomfortable parts.

The first steps are always shaky and uncomfortable and the outcomes are rarely beautiful and worthy of being shared (but maybe we should). Often it’s been my own judgement that stops me from continuing because I’m frustrated when it doesn’t work the first time. What I’ve been noticing is when I pay attention to my body rather than what is on the paper, I can feel what I am connecting with and enjoying. The next step is to do more of it while continuing to push forward.

I like to start simple with a black outline and I try my best to keep moving forward without erasing, but honestly, sometimes it can be good to start over. I keep returning to a quote from a college professor—“more, faster.” I find it funny that I love and hate this quote. But the more I chew on it, the more I learn.

I don’t necessarily think it’s about going at a hectic pace, but maybe a pace quick enough to let my mind pause and be with the moment as my pen moves across the page. This time is all about play and experiment for me—I’m trying to see how the lines look and what speaks to me. With repetition of what is working, a muscle memory is built and a relationship to the line starts to develop. Since repetition helps build a practice, being able to draw ‘more, faster’ is an asset.

I have to keep in mind, one of the key components to any type of healthy practice is rest. Working overtime doesn’t give me better results. If I’m tired, I have already forgotten to listen to my body and rest. How can I listen to discern what is working if I have already chosen to ignore a basic message?

When I am rested, I’m up for being silly, letting my pen go anywhere and taking chances. I have the stamina to repeat drawings over and over while discerning which little details are keepers without being grumpy and wanting to throw the whole lot out. The practice of art making (any kind of art) is what builds resilience and confidence and I’m finally learning how to have fun and enjoy the mess making along the way… 💛