rambling: the artistic ego problem, AKA TFW you see an amazing artist and they are 16 and you suddenly feel very self conscious
If you’re an artist, you probably know this feeling all too well. You see an incredible artist, and you’re in awe. You go to follow them when you see on their bio that they are, like, 16 or something. And you become awash with emotions. How the fuck did they become this good? At such a young age? Why aren’t I this good?
I feel like there's a lot of factors to why someone younger may gid gud at art quick: Some artists have artist parents or relatives that can pass down resources most typically can't get to, whether that's knowledge or supplies. Or they are from an affluent family that can afford buying it on their behalf. Or the fact that resources for self learning art are in incredible abundance compared to 10, 15 years ago.
And most importantly, to get into the Hot Take (trademarked) of this blog post - I think it's important to remind ourselves that their art journey is not ours. We don’t know what they deal with, they don’t know what we dealing with. An artist’s existence, young or old, is wholly neutral - if their mere existence upsets you on the basis of skill alone, that is a you problem. You're upset because they had the means or circumstances you did not, and are jealous for it. I can't blame you - I feel the exact same way sometimes! But it's such a reoccurring thing that happens with artists that I can't help but feel like it's important to examine why we get so upset.
Fundamentally, it's an ego problem. For most of us, art is a deeply personal hobby, and we often find ourselves in the two cakes situation. We see these skilled artists, and we look at our own work, and we can't help but compare. You internalize how much better they are - or how much skill they have for their age - and compare it to your own. You internalize this idea that you, despite being senior to this other artist, is objectively (news flash: subjective) worse than them, and feel as though it is a personal attack. It hurts you. They shouldn't be better than you, because you're older than them, you should have more experience than them. So why don't you? Why does their art have more "value" than yours? What the fuck even is that "value", anyway?
It's rather ridiculous, putting it into words in a vacuum. Sure, there's objective skills, but generally speaking one's art doesn't have greater or lesser "value" depending on your skills. I also don't think having a degree of ego is necessarily bad per se - I think it's important to recognize the skills and abilities you have! And contrary to anxieties, you deserve to recognize them. But it is through these comparisons - comparing ourselves to other artists - that we become so hyper-aware in how we perceive ourselves in such a way that it warps our very judgement of that.
And although some artists can use that comparison as a means of inspiration and motivation to get better, for the rest of us mentally ill folks? All it does is make us mad. The comparison you make in your head is a means to get you uncomfortable, to get you upset. All that comparison does is harm. It harms you, it harms that other artist, and it continues to push that narrative that your art is only worthwhile depending on your age. That you can only git gud if you start young, and that you shouldn't bother getting into art when you're older. When in truth, it's so much more than that - anyone, regardless of their age, can create art. Anyone can cook.
Confession time: I was one of those “talented artist kids” when I was younger. I used to draw in this super gorgeous, painterly art style that all my friends - including those older than me - would fawn over. I reveled in that shit as a teenager.
I was also woefully lacking in the foundational department. It wasn’t something I cared much about - those exercises were like watching paint dry, and I didn’t want to draw hands ad infinitum. That’s boring! I wanted to draw my blorbos from my shows! And I wanted to draw them beautifully. So I did.
I was also, again, a teenager. So with all the art I did, spending days if not weeks on a single drawing, without any concept of fundamentals besides finding shit online on the fly, what did that get me?
Carpal tunnel and a very complex relationship with my art.
I burnt out bad at the near end of the 2010’s, beginning of 2020. I had split from my friend group at the time, from whom that ego was fed through, and now I was “alone”. I was still in my Destiny clan, yes, but now separate from a group of literal artists I no longer had the drive I once had. That’s not to say the friend group was all sunshine and roses - this is the group that had the “fat people shouldn’t exist” artist I mentioned previously in another blog post - but I do think art is a fundamentally communal thing. To improve, we need to participate, to consume the art of others and to create our own for others to consume. I mourn the lack of spaces for artists to be cringe and free nowadays - most social medias are very generalist, and as a result, intentionally or unintentionally hostile to artists. It is important, as artists, to be around other artists!
Not to mention the resource draw was too much: the sheer amount of time and effort needed for me to do art was far greater than I was willing to expend. Again, I developed really bad carpal tunnel that I still deal with to this day. Do your stretches before you draw, please, for the love of all things holy and unholy.
I became almost traumatized by my own art. These reminders of what I once was, and what I could never be again. Pretty much all of the art I drew from that time has ceased to exist, floating around on some private Discord servers or my private Imgur account or Skype or Pinterest or something. All my original files from the time have been cooked. Gone. Blown to smithereens. Obliterated. No more. They do not exist.
I started drawing again sometime in mid 2021. I used my funny pandemic money I squirreled away to buy an iPad with an Apple Pencil from some OSU student off Craigslist. I initially got the iPad to read my college textbooks at work, with the intention of maybe coaxing myself to draw again. It took time getting used to, going from some screenless XP-Pen tablet connected to my PC to an actual screen tablet, but in time, I got the hang of it and ended up preferring it. It's the predominant device I use for drawing now.
I also realized I couldn’t draw like I used to. Maybe it was the format, maybe it was my abilities deteriorating, but I couldn’t get a feel for the painterly art style I once had. Not to mention my perception of my art skills being out of flux - what was once impressive was now uncanny valley. I hated it. This only worsened not only my perception of my old art, but of my current art. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t impressive. My skills were decayed. Can’t believe how far I fell off.
At some point, I said, “fuck it, we’re trying something different”. And I did. I lowered my expectations for myself: instead of going for that painterly style, I played around with a loose and fast sketchy style, with simple shapes and faces and gentle watercolor colors. It took time to get used to, but eventually, it “clicked”. And as an added bonus, I could finish things super fast!
But that dread was still there. Why am I, a 20 something, bothering with what looks like children's book drawings instead of the gorgeous, painterly style I once did?
Like, objectively, I can’t keep killing myself while I draw. That shit took the wind out of me even when I was younger. And I improved on one thing younger me could never do - finish things quickly. But on the emotional level: I was upset because I felt my old art had a higher "value" than my newer art. That I was no longer the "talented young adult" I once was, and that I was just "some guy who draws on the Internet". My luster had dulled, I thought.
In my teens had beef with an artist older than me for a variety of reasons, mostly petty (brooooo my blorbo scrungly special interest boy would NAWT say/do that), though some reasonable (they were best friends with this 30 something guy that creeped on and tried to coerce sex from numerous 14-16 y.o girls - myself included - and still associated with him despite numerous people telling them about it. No clue if they still do now, not interested in finding out). But one of the most important things they tried to pass on to me was to not aim for perfection, aim for completion - and sometimes completion is much less than you expect it to be. You make very little artistic progress when you pour yourself into an art piece for weeks at a time without any room to breathe. I never internalized it at the time because again, the beef could rival an Arby’s, but as I got older I recognized the importance of that.
Furthermore: what’s helped me get through it is to check my ego. It applies here, too: the Artist I Was existed at some point. But the Artist I Was isn’t the Artist I Am, not anymore at least. I don’t have the time I used to have, nor the energy. My art style reflects this. Sure, the Artist I Was isn’t going to feel bad ‘cause they no longer exist, but the same applies - what use does it have to self-flaggelate over skills I “used to have” (or in comparison to other artists - what use does it have to self-flaggelate over skills someone else, who is literally not you, has)? A well adjusted artist may see it as a means to get better, but when you’re riddled with anxiety, with overwhelmingly low self esteem, it does nothing but hurt.
It’s better to chokehold that hurt I feel - how powerless I feel now as an artist in comparison to what I once was - and recognize that hurt is internal. My self-esteem is hurt doing this. Why? Like how it is egotistical to be offended at the idea of a younger artist being “better” than you, it is similarly egotistical to be offended at your younger self being “better” than you. Sure, there’s the added layer of “what could’ve been”, but also - it amounts to getting upset over maybes. Possibilities. Things you cannot control.
In truth, there are so many variables to it that comparing yourself to others is not only a disservice to you, but to them, too. As other artists are different from you, so too are you from your younger self. They may not deal with the same issues or even illnesses or disabilities that you face. If they do, it might not be as severe as you. And even if it is - does it really matter, in the long run? You are you, as you are now. You are doing the best you can with the ability you have. You can always strive to do better, sure, but constantly giving yourself shit’s only gonna make you hate art.
Practice and study the artists you like, be constructive and not destructive, and above all - be kind and patient to yourself.
It’s meaningless for me to feel shame about being “worse” at art now, because how I go about art - accommodating my abilities and lack thereof - is part of my artistic experience as much as it is a fundamental part of me. Not to mention the change allowed me to improved in ways the Artist I Was wishes they could’ve: notably, I finish drawings in a couple hours, instead of a couple weeks. I’ve also improved with drawing more diverse characters, no longer bound to drawing things to appease my friends. And most importantly: I enjoy the process. With a faster workflow, I can see my ideas come to life faster. Sure, it’s not 1:1, but it’s something, you know?
And I can always experiment, I can always try for more if I wanted to. But in all, I am doing what I can. We all are. And that’s okay.