The Way I See It: 11/24

From the journal November 2024:

I have been thinking a lot about how to teach creativity. I have made a commitment to foster an environment of encouragement and joy when I teach, whether I’m teaching children or adults. It’s a space where creativity thrives, unencumbered by the heavy chains of negativity that so often accompany our inner dialogues. I will always push back against any hint of “Oh, this isn’t very good,” or “I’m not good at this,” or “This is too hard for me.” In my classes, this kind of language is simply not allowed. I want to nip that negativity in the bud, swift and firm, because I understand the profound impact that such self-criticism can have on a person’s life.

Imagine children, full of wonder, stepping into a world of color and possibility. When they express doubts about their abilities, I see not just a moment of insecurity but a potential pattern that could echo throughout their lives. I want them to grasp that this negative dialogue is something they need to dismantle now. It’s a habit that can cling to them like a stubborn shadow, creeping in to undermine their confidence and creativity as they grow. This isn’t just a lesson for children; it’s an essential truth for adults as well. Negative self-talk, that insidious whisper that tells us we’re not enough, is not only unhelpful—it’s detrimental to the creative process.

There’s a common misconception that tough love breeds resilience, but I’ve come to see that it often just breeds shame. When we focus on what’s wrong, we neglect to celebrate what’s right. Art, at its core, is about exploration, expression, and connection—not about measuring up to an arbitrary standard of perfection. I encourage a critical eye, but I want that critique to be constructive. It’s perfectly fine to diagnose issues with composition, color, or line, but it’s vital that we do so without succumbing to the crippling belief that we just aren’t good enough or that our work pales in comparison to someone else’s.

Through my years of teaching, I’ve learned that many negative reactions from students—especially children—are often a test. They want to gauge my response to their work, to see if they measure up to what they perceive as an adult’s standard. In my classes, we don’t play that game. There’s no hierarchy of talent or ability; this is a space for exploration, for finding joy in the act of creation itself. 

I want my students, both younger and older, to understand that they must learn to find positive aspects in their work just as readily as they identify flaws. It’s a conscious choice to cultivate an appreciation for what they’ve created. Perfectionism, in any form, is a self-absorbed emotion; it narrows our focus to our own perceived shortcomings rather than allowing us to engage with the broader experience of sharing, learning, and giving. Creativity, after all, is about the experience of creating—about letting go of the self and immersing oneself in the process.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with striving to improve, but if one cannot see anything good in their work, that’s where the problem lies. I will always push back against that negative self-talk and the perfectionism that creeps in, often unnoticed. My role is to help them see the beauty in what they’ve created, even if they can’t see it themselves. I want to illuminate the aspects of their work that sparkle with potential and encourage them to build upon that beauty.

I want to celebrate our successes and acknowledge our struggles, always with the understanding that art is not about perfection but about the joy of creation.