速寫創作

I'd like to thank my patrons for making these videos possible, especially Axie Douse, who I can't be sure isn't a rare and stunning comet flashing fortuitously across the deep dark sky that hangs over the moonlit paths of the art journey, so I will just assume that they are. I make a lot of videos on this channel focusing on how important it is to have fun and be joyful while you create, and to prioritize that over all else. I focus on this because I wholeheartedly believe it to be the true North Star for a sustainable art hobby or career. I don't really think there is ever an appropriate time to leave that entirely behind and pretend it's a good idea to just practice for the sake of it, or to grind out a bunch of art just to try to get better. But I hardly ever talk about the career part, the professional job side of things here, and I want to touch on that. There's a couple reasons I don't usually cover it. One is it's very, very confusing territory. I'm aware from teaching art that it's almost impossible to give clear answers about how to make it a career. Two, lots of other people talk about it online, and I don't think it's super helpful. Any advice you can give about the career becomes outdated very quickly. Something you casually sling out there might send a student on a weird trajectory for a very long time. And the thing holding most people back and improving isn't insight into the industry of art, it's that they don't enjoy the process enough to stick it out. So, that said, consider this video my disclaimer on hard work. Maybe I'll just say this stuff once and then get back to reminding you to relax. I'll let you in on a little secret at the start. Professional artists are freaks. Of course they are. Being an artist for a living is a freaky thing. Artists put on all sorts of veneers and outward appearances. Some of them even put out there that they're actually very blue-collar kinds of people. Being an artist or an illustrator or a concept artist is very much like being a craftsperson. You just practice, get good, then you do your job. Uh-huh. I've met these people. They are not their facade. Every professional artist I've met who has stayed in it for a long time was an aberration. They're all sharp, cunning, and never comfortable. I once met up with my friend Mike Chaffee for lunch and found him reading Descartes in the original French because he claimed it was the only way to really catch his meaning. Mike learned French for this reason, among others. I guess that's the kind of person you have to be to design the time-traveling DeLorean for Back to the Future. When he had to make a bridge out of balsa wood in college in his youth, he made a suspension bridge that held the record weight in the school for some 30 years. He has an encyclopedic memory for the size, weight, and structure of everyday objects. He draws beautifully, carries himself peacefully, is horribly kind and humble, and provides seasonal avocados. He's an inspiration. Mike's a genius. But every professional I've met is somewhat like that. These are people who have learned how to learn. And that is a very meta, very special skill that tends to give one an unshakable confidence. Getting good at drawing and painting is one of the most tricky and time-honored paths to frustration we have in our history as people. Even Michelangelo couldn't quite inspire or educate his students to his satisfaction. Annoyed with the poor effort of a pupil, he gave the only piece of art advice anyone needs. Draw, Antonio. Draw, Antonio. Draw and don't waste time. To the person who has made great progress at this very tricky thing, other learning paths always seem more realistic, understandable. But even before success, the person who will be an artist already has this in them. They cannot, will not, be ultimately deterred. They are both stubborn and flexible. Though the pain may be intense and the lows truly low, they always come back. The ambition to be an artist has life-defining force. Human beings are not master to that kind of thing. They are slave to it. Other things pale in comparison. They will put everything at risk, involuntarily or voluntarily, to move closer to that goal. Thus, artists need to be able to walk a very, very thin line as they make progress. Because the world of art is strange indeed. And the gravity of it gives them few other options than to explore it. Here's one of the hardest parts. As artists improve, they come to understand the inherent uncertainty of the art realm more and more. Unlike a lot of other pursuits, the more skilled they become, the clearer the need for more than just skill. Instead of becoming easier as time goes on and progress is made, often the art journey takes on a light-speed travel sort of paradox, where the closer you get to the goal, the more and more baggage you trail behind you, requiring redoubled efforts to produce new results. Worked harder than anyone you know to make a living off of your art? Found out it wasn't what you thought it was? Want to make moves to go independent instead? Good for you! Enjoy having to double your already-Herculean output so that you can produce an entire closed-door professional oeuvre while working nights to share your personal work with the world. Does this sound hard? It is. And the support structures are rare and flimsy. Usually, artists can only find consolation with each other. Embarking on a harrowing journey like this is utterly indecipherable to most people. As such, the artist with the desire to go pro must not just work incredibly hard, but also be ready to feel incredibly lonely at points. They must simply accept the fact that their boyfriend's mom will not believe that they have a serious plan, that their parents will worry ceaselessly, that dogs will stare with wet tennis balls in their mouths until the day comes that they earn the right to work tirelessly for an apathetic employer. I'm just kidding. That makes it sound too harsh. Because remember, the pro artist is having fun this whole time. You didn't forget about that, did you? That is why it's so important to put fun first. It must be fun to draw. Does any of this sound doable? If it's a grind? If it's not fun? It shouldn't sound doable. And if you're doing it that way, you should consider being a lawyer. You have the mind for it, and the rewards will be greater. But what if you can't consider something else, and it's not fun? Oh, crap. This is a painful truth I think a lot of artists don't want to talk about. There are a lot of casualties of the art demon. If I didn't have some strokes of good luck, I'd be one of them. These are people who dumped 10 to 15 years or more into becoming extremely skillful at art, only to find the industry capricious, opaque, and merciless. Now they have no fallback. They invested all the time it takes to learn two other skill sets into achieving mediocrity at one. Now there's no other option. They need to work in art. Not because it's their dream. Not because it's the only thing they want to do. But because it's the only thing they're good at. This, too, is part of what it takes to be a professional artist. At this darkest time, you must sharpen your inner steel and survive. God speed you who have this step ahead of them. I miss not those frigid shores. I leave my beacon in those waters not as a warning to turn around, but to slow down. I know what you're saying. Oh, boo-hoo. You're just ungrateful. That won't happen to me. I know, I know. Me too. I said that too. I thought that too. It's part of the arc. Do what you need to do. You should still do it. Everyone needs to go on their own journey. I will be happy to buy you a beer when the time is right, and we'll chat about it. Because that's perhaps the hardest part of pushing through all of this as an artist. Not becoming bitter. Executing these mental acrobatics, living in paradoxes, managing yourself on the most meta level for 20, 30, 40 years. And not losing the light. Not becoming cold and hard and angry. Still loving the scritchy-scratch of the pencil on the paper. Still wanting other people to do it. Still, despite everything, believing people when they say they really want it. Knowing it would be worth it whether they succeed or fail for them to try. That's what you need to do. You need to keep an open heart that allows for camaraderie and sharing and helping others along the way. Artists aren't meant to be hard-nosed, jaded, cynical, and going through the motions. For there to be art, there must be joy. That, that is what it really takes to be a professional artist. That is what you must be a freak at. Finding your joy, on demand, in the strangest of situations, under remarkable pressure, you must work hard to maintain that little, exuberant part of yourself through all of these trials over ridiculous timescales. You can't fight for success or status or promotions or titles or accolades or credits. They will all wither over those long periods of time. They'll all dry up. You must fight for your joy. Everything else will come. Thanks for drawing today. Oh, wait, you're still here. What's wrong? Oh, right, you're wondering why I pulled a Steven and talked about the emotional work it takes to be a professional artist instead of the drawing work. Uh, well, because it should be obvious. You need to draw your desperate, under-muscled ass off to be a professional artist. Volume definitely does not matter when it comes to just drawing joyfully and happily. But when it comes to going pro, you need to draw so much that people worry about you. If you've never fought with your significant other about how much you're drawing, you're not drawing enough. Let me remind you of something real quick. I'm out there taking gigs. Everyone who draws for money is in the same pool. There's no divisions by experience or age. That freak, Mike Chaffee, I told you about earlier, I worked next to him for three years in studio out of college. I got to do that because I ate drawings like peanut M&M's for seven years straight. You need to compete with me. Everything you see on this YouTube, every bit of it, is my sketchbook. It's not what I do day to day for work. I will draw circles around you. So grab your pen and get going.