Is there a skill you've always wished you had but somehow convinced yourself—perhaps helped along by other people's comments—you simply aren't that kind of person?
Oh, I'd love to play the cello, but I'm not good at reading music.
I wish I were great at math, but I'm not good with numbers.
Do those sound familiar? Similar thoughts have rolled around in my head. I can't recall how I arrived at the conclusion that I'm not artistic. I'm undoubtedly creative, but thinking of myself as a potential artist has always seemed a ridiculous stretch. I don't know how many times I've said, "I'd love to draw, but I just don't have the skills," and that has pretty much been the end of it.
If you've ever found yourself in similar circumstances, I'd like to encourage you to question those limiting beliefs. Finding a creative hobby and taking time to make your soul happy is incredibly beneficial for your mental well-being as well as your memory—and there's loads of evidence to back that up. Plus, combatting the inner critic is really empowering, and it's a great way to counteract any tendency toward perfectionism.
Historically, I've struggled to sketch anything that closely resembles the original. Rather than pushing through the discomfort of my limited drawing skills and practicing regularly to improve them, I've quickly retreated to the relative safety of my limiting belief—I can't draw.
Two years ago, though, I developed a curiosity for watercolor painting, thanks to an ad I had seen for an online watercolor course for beginners. It was inexpensive, so I decided to give it a try. It was somewhat helpful, but I think I needed more detailed instruction. No matter how much I practiced, I couldn't get the results I was looking for. Disappointed, I tucked the brushes and paint away, occasionally pulling them out to paint with a friend who's far more skilled than I am.
But the desire to get it right lingered, so when I saw an ad two months ago for another watercolor course from Create Academy*—this time focusing on botanical illustration—I pondered giving it a go. Here's the wrinkle, though: Botanical illustration is incredibly exacting. There's no room for impressionism. The purpose is to accurately depict the subject, right down to its actual size and finest details. It was clearly a counterintuitive approach for someone who doubted her artistic abilities. I spent a couple of weeks alternating between watching the introductory video on the website and listing all the reasons it was a bad idea to pay the membership fee for Create Academy. (To be clear, I was interested in taking several courses Create Academy has on offer, so the annual subscription price seemed perfectly reasonable.)
Reader, I took the leap.
I honestly wasn't convinced I would fare any better with this course, but hope springs eternal. And this time, hope may have won out. I think this attempt has been more successful for a few reasons. First, the instruction seems more methodical and detailed, which is something I need. I'm a Questioner by nature, so I need to gather a lot of information before I feel especially comfortable moving forward.
Second, it requires the use of a divider, a tool that resembles a compass but has two pointed ends rather than one with a point and the other with a pencil. You use the divider to measure every aspect of your specimen and transfer light marks on the watercolor paper to ensure everything is appropriately scaled. That has nearly eliminated the difficulties I've always had with drawing a reasonable replica. It's the drawing aid I never knew I needed.
Third, the subject matter is far more interesting to me than simply learning how to paint with watercolor. I'm obviously obsessed with flowers. The bulk of my photography focuses on the details of a single flower, so botanical illustration seems a natural fit. And the garden, in season, will provide me with infinite sources of inspiration. Finally, I've been trying to slow down a bit and learn to savor the details of an activity rather than focus on the end results.
But I'll say this: The results of pursuing this new creative hobby have been nothing short of amazing to me. Am I suddenly a gifted artist? Not hardly. But the artwork I'm producing bears a strong resemblance to the real specimens, and my skills are increasing incrementally with each new attempt. The practice is very contemplative, and it forces me to focus intently and accept that a painting of a single specimen will take at least two weeks to complete. It's a compelling, enjoyable, and satisfying form of creative expression for me.
I have no illusions that I'll be an exceptional botanical illustrator in a year, but I do know that improvement compounds with regular practice. Reading Atomic Habits and reestablishing a consistent piano practice schedule taught me that valuable lesson. My sight reading skills have increased exponentially in the last year, and learning to play a new piece proficiently—once an arduous task—is far easier and more enjoyable.
I've also learned that sometimes, when you're looking for a creative hobby that feeds your spirit, you may not know where to start. But it's worth trying whatever piques your curiosity. And sometimes, you really are on the track of the perfect hobby, even if it doesn't seem like you are. You might choose something that initially doesn't seem exactly right, but sometimes it just takes a few minor adjustments.
So, if you've thought about finding a creative hobby, don't let any limiting beliefs you've held hold you back—whether others have instilled that in you or you've convinced yourself you just don't have the natural skill. Take time to create something meaningful to you. If you only see a one percent improvement each time you work on your creative outlet, keep telling yourself that within a year, you'll likely be 100 percent better.
Now, what limiting beliefs have you been holding on to, and how will you cultivate your inner artist in 2025? I'd love to hear about it! Let's make it a year of saying yes to our inner artists and giving them everything they need to thrive.
*Note: The links I've included are for informational purposes. I receive no compensation for including them or for you clicking on them.
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