Shit Art = Good Art:1/22

From the journal January 2022:

I keep going back to a thing I think is fundamental and something that beginning artists/creatives always forget. The truth is, what that distinguishes professional artists from those who are just dipping their toes into the vast ocean of creativity is this, making a lot of bad art is part of the process. As professionals, we’ve come to understand that our creative journeys are not marked by a straight line of success. Instead, they are winding paths filled with detours, missteps, and yes, a whole lot of art that simply doesn’t resonate, or worse is just b-a-d.

When I look back on my own journey, I can see it clearly—the countless pieces that fell flat, the experiments that fizzled out, the ideas that never quite took flight. In the beginning, I was excited by the ideas but I was often paralyzed by the fear of creating something “bad.” I imagined that every stroke of the brush or keystroke had to be perfectly calculated, that each piece needed to be a masterpiece, or at the very least, good. But as I’ve evolved, I’ve learned a vital lesson: we don’t put too much stock in what we create while we’re learning, while we’re growing, while we’re progressing.

For me, the beauty of being an artist lies in the freedom to explore, to make mistakes, and to embrace the messy process of creation. It’s in those moments of perceived failure that we uncover the most profound lessons. Each misstep is a stepping stone, each “bad” piece of art a necessary part of the journey. We understand that this process is not linear; it’s a labyrinth of experimentation and discovery.

I often still need to remind myself that to make good art, you have to first be willing to make a lot of bad art. It’s a rite of passage, a necessary phase that allows us to refine our voice and sharpen our skills. This realization is liberating! It frees us from the shackles of perfectionism and invites us to play, to explore, and to express without the constant fear of judgment.

I think about the dramatic up and downs of my own creative process, and how each “bad” piece has contributed to my evolution as an artist. Those early sketches, the poems that never saw the light of day, the paintings that didn’t quite come together—each of them taught me something invaluable. They nudged me closer to clarity, to the essence of what and how I truly want to communicate with my art. I embrace the notion that not every piece needs to be a triumph. In fact, the more I allow myself to create freely, the more I invite growth and innovation into my work. I will continue to celebrate my “bad” art as a necessary part of my artistic evolution, a testament to my willingness to engage deeply with the creative process. As I move forward, I am cultivating a space where I can honor my journey—where each piece, whether good or bad, is a reflection of my exploration and growth. I will remind myself that the beauty of art lies not just in the final product, but in the messy, beautiful process of becoming.

With a heart open to all possibilities…