Hi there!

View the link below to download the slides of my 2025 Art Talk, which covers some of my artistic journey, as well as thoughts on art school. 

Cameron Suter Art Talk_2025.pdf

Talk Transcript:

Hello everyone! My name is Cameron Suter and I’m honored to be back with you all again.

As a bit of background, I was born and raised here on the west side, graduated from Oak Hills in 2014, and from Studying Fine Art at DAAP in 2018. I taught here as a long term art sub shortly after. And since then, I’ve been working as a full-time illustrator for the ministry Answers in Genesis. But apart from that, I also have my own art practice, where I do freelance concept art and fantasy illustration in the film and video game industries.

Now, there are three things I want to accomplish today:

1. Show you my art journey and what it looks like to go from a student to a professional

2. Give crucial advice if you’re considering art school or a career in the arts

3. To answer your questions and, if you answer my questions correctly, give away some signed art prints—so you best be paying attention. 

I’m going to hit you with a lot of info, but these slides will be available on my website, so take notes if you’d like, but don’t worry if you miss something. Let’s tuck into it. 

If you were here last year, you might remember me showing you some of my early artwork:

• Creature sketches in elementary school

• Fantasy and faith inspired works in middle school,

• Portraits and still lives during high school, 

• As well as more creature and monster designs.

But, today I’m going to be skipping that because I desperately want to share what will apply to you, rather than spend time looking at my questionable early attempts at self-portraits. 

Chapter 1: Being a Student

Let’s jump ahead to when I graduated high school and thinking about going to art school. At that time I knew two things: One, I loved art but needed to improve, and two, I thought I wanted to make art for video games. So I made my way into DAAP at UC, to get my Bachelors of Fine Arts and a Certificate in Game Art that they offered at the time. 

The first year, aptly-named Foundations, served to bring everyone up to speed in terms of our technical skills. This meant more portraits, still lives, and working from reference, drawing everyday objects, and painting from live models—yes, even nude models, which is actually only weird if you make it weird. So…don’t make it weird.

But these exercises are crucial because what good is having a deep message behind your work if you don’t have the skill to visually communicate it? 

Moving past foundations, the intermediate years continue to build technical skill, but also introduce more experimentation. So I continued to practice facial features, simple still lives and anatomy, self-portraits and master studies like these—all of which deepened my understanding of the elements and principles of design you’re probably sick of hearing about. But they’re not going away. 

But we also began experimentation that had me exploring abstract styles, painting on different surfaces like glass and metal. These helped us push past our comfort zones and begin thinking about how even the materials you use can themselves be a part of what you want to capture or express.And eventually, we had the freedom to create small series of our own, such as this one, where I had a fascination with birds and began using them as metaphors for various topics I wanted to speak about. 

So you can see there’s a repeated flow in how we grow in the arts—periods of technical focus, to grow skills, and periods of expression to use them. And the further you get in your craft, the more you’ll discover how to do both at the same time.

And I leaned more into learning video game art, this is where I began trying digital painting, which was a steep learning curve that I honestly struggled with, but in time was able to do things such as this creature design by practicing thumbnail sketches, designing interesting heads, and eventually combining everything into a single illustrated image. 

I also practiced fantasy landscape works, since I knew that was a hole in my skillsets. These began as simple paintings on scraps of cardboard, to smaller charcoal studies, to slightly larger studies, to large studies that were around 5 feet at the longest side. Which yes, does leave you looking like you worked overtime in a coal mine by the end of it all. 

Through all this, my studies culminated in my thesis work—which is the last and largest project you do before graduating. And I constructed the journal of an interplanetary traveler that I have displayed over there. The story tracks a man sent on a secret mission during the 1960’s space race, who crash lands on a distant world and has only this journal to chronicle his journey. It’s a combination of my love for story-telling, world-building, creature design, and many of the themes that are fueling the current works of my studio practice. 

With that came graduation, and into…

Chapter 2: Working as a Professional…eventually.

Here’s where the rubber meets the road. Right now, you’re in a position where getting good grades matters—and it does, don’t get me wrong. They matter in college too, though there is some truth to the saying “C’s get degrees”, but that’s beside the point. When graduate college and into the so-called workforce suddenly, not only do grades not matter, there aren’t any grades. You don’t get quarterly feedback on whether you’re passing or failing in life—in fact, the metrics for gauging success can feel impossible to figure out.

It’s at this point you begin to realize it was never about grades in the first place. A letter on a report card does nothing if you’ve not grown actual skills to attain it. In that, I’d rather you earn a C in every class while putting in genuine effort, than be the student who gets straight A’s without trying and is never challenged. 

And to be transparent, I was the straight-A sort, but I don’t say that to brag. Because while “good grades” came easy to me, a good report card doesn’t necessarily prepare you for the “real world,” (even though I hate that phrase).

So what did I do to span the gap between graduating with a nice and very expensive piece of paper, and actually using those skills professionally?

First, you just have to Get By. Going from being in school for the past 12+ years of your life, and even more if you go right into college,  to that structure being gone overnight can be…jarring. For me this simply meant getting an apartment and doing something I could stand to get paid for, regardless if it used my degree. The frustrating reality is that the portfolio I graduated from art school with was nowhere near what it needed to be to land the type of job I wanted in the film/game  industry.

All the pieces you see in my portfolio now are things I had to create after going to art school. And before I was getting paid to make any of these,

• I worked at Panera (...for one week before quitting)

• Then at a Macy’s call-center where I old women perfume and underwear over the phone (which turns out, is not natural skillset of mine) 

• Then by the grace of God, I got out of there to teach at Oak Hills for several months, in the intro to art and ceramics classes.

• After that came the illustration position I’m in now and, which I’ll share some pieces from.

Here, there’s a wide variety of graphics and illustrations I make for the ministry as needs arise. These range from random fantasy images, imaginative dinosaur scenes for a fun calendar project I’m developing, to depictions of Biblical scenes and religious imagery, to branding images, product artwork and more. 

Now, even though I enjoy working at a ministry where I get to incorporate aspects of my faith in the work I do, I should also note that if you pursue commercial arts—even within ministries—your job often isn’t to have an opinion, but to execute the final image. So if you’re not interested in working under another person’s specifications, then going the route of a commercial artist might be less interesting to you than a fine artist doing his or her own work. 

Nevertheless, now that I had found a way around being a starving artist, it was time to Dig In—to make a push into growing my art practice, such that one day I’ll be able to leave the ministry I’m at, and pursue other goals I’ve set for myself. Now, hear me when I say there is nothing wrong with having a steady job unrelated to art, and making art in your own time—one of my best friends is a spectacular artist who works at a steel mill, then comes home to paint.

That said, there are others who want to do their own art full-time. The benefit of which is more freedom to make what you want, with the trade-off of less stability and structure. Presently, I’m somewhere in-between these two modes. I’m thankful for a day job that pays the bill and allows me some creativity, but I also have goals for my art that will be hard to accomplish staying where I’m at. 

And while it’d be nice to go viral and jump into that now, for most people it's a slower process of exploring streams of revenue—which is a fancy way of saying, ways to make money.

So what are the streams I’ve explored?

The first of which is Freelancing, also sometimes called taking commissions or contract work, its basically when someone hires you for a specific project or length of time. This could be a friend wanting you to draw a picture of their dog, all the way up a film studio wanting you to design for the Marvel movie. Pay can fluctuate accordingly—I’ve taken on projects for as little as $50, and worked with companies that pay over $1000/wk for length of time.

I started my first commissions in high school, doing watercolor paintings of the fountain in the courtyard, a pet portrait, and maybe a tattoo design I probably never got paid for. Then in college, drawing people’s Dungeons & Dragons characters like these. Over time this grew to working with indie game developers fort cover illustrations like these, or creature concepts like those here. And in the past few years I’ve done book covers for my friends who write fantasy and sci-fi novels—all means of exploring new ways that I can bring in more income through my art, and grow my skill along the way.

Eventually, this grew to the point where, almost exactly a year ago, I was reached out to by a company called Snail Games to make work on Ark Survival Evolved—specifically on an expansion called Ark Aquatica.

If you’re not familiar, Ark is an online survival game that’s had millions of players. You spend your time taming dinosaurs and monsters to fight your way across the world—it’s pretty epic. And I was asked to design the concepts for the three main bosses in their expansion, as well as various promotional illustrations. Which I’ll let cycle behind me for a moment. This was the largest set of projects I have done to date, with dozens of individual images developed on a very tight deadline over the course of 3-months or so. 

Freelancing can be a bit boom-or-bust cycle, meaning it's great when you’re getting gigs, but there’s no guarantee the market won’t dry up for long periods of time. For example, the work I did on Ark for a few months paid my rent for almost an entire year. But it’s also not every year I get a client of that size. Thankfully I have the margin in my schedule to keep my day job while doing all this on the side. But because I still want my art practice to one day be my full-time focus, I need to continue exploring other streams of income. 

The next stream artists often develop is teaching, which can be a full-time venture of its own, or supplemental. Last year I developed a private mentorship program and worked with maybe half a dozen students to make custom lessons for their art goals. This was good for a time, but took me away from making my own work, so I’ve since paused mentorships, and instead packaged that instruction into self-guided courses that people can purchase on my website.

Both of these courses are structured as four weeks of collegiate level instruction, with lectures, demos, and assignments to guide you through the program. The first of which teaches concept art, with a focus on creature designs. Here I share how to loosen up with thumbnail sketches, use iterations to come to a final design, develop different views of your creature, color schemes, and final rendering.

The other course I have is an introduction to drawing the human figure and portraits. Here we go through building up the head's simple forms, facial features, drawing the head from different angles, building the body with simple forms, how to draw from reference, and designing dynamic characters. 

The third revenue stream, and one that’s my current exploration, is developing online content. Many artists take advantage of YouTube, social media, and Patreon to actually fund their art practices. So over the past year, I’ve been learning how to shoot and edit video in order to make content around the whole of my practice. I’m hoping this will allow me to continue making my own work while using that to teach others. This new channel will likely be launched come the new year.

Chapter 3: So, should I go to Art School?

With all that said, here’s where it applies to you. If your time in school is anything like it was for me, college readiness was preached from the time I was leaving middle school, which is honestly crazy. College can be an awesome pursuit, but it’s of course not the only way. So can I get a show of hands if you’re presently thinking of going to college after graduating? 

Now, raise your hand if you’re considering going to school for art? Lastly, regardless if you want to go to art school or not, raise your hand if you want to continue being involved with the arts in some way. (I should hope that would be all of you, but hey, I’m not here to judge). 

I want to share what I wish someone told me when I was a junior-senior in your position, thinking about “should I go to art school?”. And the answer is, of course, it depends. But I want to tell you what it depends on. I’m not going to sugarcoat my opinions, but understand that you have the right and responsibility to determine your best path forward, and even to disagree with me. And even if you’re not planning to go to art school, but are still considering college, much of this will still apply to you in principle. 

First, realize that you don’t need an art degree to be a successful artist. You might be surprised to hear that many positions won’t care if you have a degree in art, in fact, they won’t even ask. You can roughly categorize jobs into those that care about you having a degree, vs. those that care more about the skills shown in your portfolio. 

In short, if you want to work in academia—meaning if you want to be a teacher or professor, or if you want to be involved with museums, or be an art therapist, you’ll likely need an art degree—maybe two depending on your goals. If you want to display work in galleries for a living, you don’t necessarily need a degree, but art school can be a powerful way of networking with galleries, so you could argue that in either group.

However, if you want to work in commercial industries like I do—including as a concept artists, illustrator, 3D modeler, animator, and storyboard artist and so on—or you want to work as a graphic designer, tattoo artist, fashion designer, or making art videos on youtube, your portfolio and job experience may speak more than a degree. 

Of course, going to art school won’t hurt your ability to work in these fields, and there are programs catered to these disciplines. But realizing what’s necessary can be vital before you sign up for a college program that’s likely to cost around $40,000 at the very low end, to $200,000 for the most prestigious schools. 

If you’ve done your research, feel confident in what the program will provide you, have considered the cost and the alternatives (which I’ll mention soon), and have some vision for the profession you want to work toward, then heck, go for it! College very well may be the best decision for you. 

But maybe you fall into one of these categories:

• I really like art but don’t yet know what I want to do with it (which is totally normal and okay, by the way), or…

• I want to be ________ [insert specific type of artist here] but don’t know where to go or if their program will get me where I want to go.

• I don’t know if I have the money to invest in art school. 

If you resonate with any of those statements, you might consider an active gap year between graduating high school and signing up for college, if you decide college is still the right next-step.

Listen, I’m all for you thinking about career now and AP classes and the whole shebang, but I also remember what it’s like to feel overwhelmed in a sea of college readiness. Some of my friends developed crippling anxiety over it in fact, because it felt like being forced to make a decision that would guide the rest of your life, when you're still learning about yourself and your interests, and what the world is even like. 

If you’ve also felt that way, I want you to hear that you do not need to know what you want to do for the rest of your lives now. Heck, half the adults you know may not know the answer to that. Life evolves, passions and skills change over time, and there’s zero shame if you’re unsure what your next step should be. 

Obviously this is a conversation to have with your parents, teachers, and mentors—but going to college only out of a sense of obligation is a great way to land yourself in a lot of unnecessary debt. You’ll be doing a lot of exploration throughout your twenties, and if you can do so without accruing thousands of dollars of debt, your future self will greatly thank you. 

An active gap year (or several) after high school can give you a chance to know what it’s like to exist in the “real world” (though I hate that phrase), and potentially make a more informed decision about how you want to contribute to it. 

But as I said, this is an active time, not a chance to just kick back, play Mario Kart World and binge Tiktoks all day (as fun as that admittedly is). Instead, use this time to explore the things you're passionate about, discover communities outside of school, work a steady job now, save up funds for your next step, maybe consider moving out if you feel the need to. 

And if you’re driven to explore the arts, use this time to learn more about the other options for art-education that are available to you. And honestly, if I’d known about all of these, I might have made a different decision than going straight into DAAP. 

One alternative is in seeking online education. Platforms like Proko, Artwod, Schoolism, CGMA, and more [Draw a Box, CTRL+Paint, Domestika, Skillshare] can offer you specific lessons and education plans from amazing artists for a fraction of the cost. But like anything, these programs come with their ups and downs.

Pros: 

• Drastically more affordable classes, 

• Wider selection of courses focused on your interests (No required courses you don’t care about).

• Teachers from all over the world 

• Flexibility in when you sign up and the pace you go through them.

Cons: 

• May provide you will less feedback, depending on the program

• Can be harder to network and build community

• Fewer facilities — No physical studios, printmaking labs, kilns

• Requires high levels of motivation, discipline, and building your own structure in order to stick with it. And honestly, that’s one of the biggest reasons why you might consider a traditional art school option like DAAP, where you have a class of people you get to know in person, and are held accountable by..

However, there are ways of combating these drawback, which you might combine with an online program. That is getting involved with local art clubs and smaller schools. Places like the following offer one-off classes as well as several-week long courses, as well as opportunities to enter your work into shows. These can be a fantastic way of building the community and accountability that you might find missing if only doing an online option.

• Art Club of Cincinnati

• Manifest Drawing Center

• Baker-Hunt Art Center in Covington

• Fitton Center for Creative Arts

• Kennedy Heights Arts Center

• Artworks

Thirdly, you might consider seeking a local artist to take lessons or a mentorship under. There are larger centers where artists rent their studio spaces around Cincinnati, which you can visit online or in person to see what local artists are doing, and to contact those whose work you like to see if they offer mentorships.

• Essex Studios

• Pendleton Art Center

• Loveland Art Studios

• Visiting local galleries can also be a great way of getting in touch with local artist that may offer lessons. 

And finally, one option I especially wish I knew about was the concept of an Atelier. Has anyone heard about this before? Ateliers are typically smaller art schools that focus on building high levels of technical skills around classical forms of art. So if have a heart for realism and the style of the old masters, this might be worth considering.

I don’t know of any locally, but there are many online options. These tend to be a bit more expensive that other online options, but still less than a traditional 4-yr degree, and  can provide you with more rigorous instruction and more direct feedback. You can see a few examples of that here:

• Watts Atelier Online

• Sadie Valeri Atelier

• Grand Central Atelier

• New Masters Academy

• The Art Students League of New York

• School of Atelier Arts

Of course, all of these are things to be discussed with your parents, and remember that you can refer back to all this in the blog section of my website. If you or your folks have questions, I’d be happy to share my thoughts if you email through my website.

So to wrap up, remember that… 

- Grades matter, but its the skills you gain that matter more.

- It’s okay to just “get by;” you have plenty of time to figure out your long-term goals.

- But if you want to make art for a living, think of it in terms of a business—what is the product or service you’re providing? 

- And in that, you don’t need an art degree to be a successful artist (though, it can help for select fields).

- If you’re unsure of your next step, consider an active gap year, and in that time…

- Explore local/online options to build artistic skills & community. 

Thank you for your time.

It’s funny, I rarely thought much of my age at 26, but now at 27 it comes to mind more often.  Maybe this is natural as one nears the proverbial three-zero, which I’m sure most reach with a feeling that they should be further along in some aspect of life.  However, I recognize these feelings are 1) to some extent inevitable in the “chasing a bar always out of reach” culture we live in, and more importantly 2) that my perspectives toward achievement play as much role in my contentment as the achievements themselves.  

I wonder what it would take to feel that I’m where I’m supposed to be at 30, and to not see any of the past as squandered (and yes, I hear all of you who are past 30 shouting about how young I still am…I can hear my own voice iterating the same message as I read this back years later haha).  On the surface level, I can think of arbitrary career milestones, but on a deeper level this contentment hinges on something else: namely a greater yielding to God’s timing, while leveraging the freedom of His grace to make the most of each day—first for the Kingdom, knowing all else follows suit. (Matthew 6:33) 

I've done alright with this inner-work, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pressure to lean back into narrow mindsets about productivity and growth.  Of course, yielding to God’s timing has never meant I stop making art, but that I give up being motivated fear, which was very active in my early-to-mid 20’s.  Moving past that has been a great leap forward, but finding motivation apart from fear has proved more nebulous.  

Allowing myself time to explore my art for its own sake has helped, even if that means art production is sporadic.  And now, with having settled into a new studio and the cool of fall beckoning a creative air, I feel poised to return to larger projects again.  “Lean in more than ever before!” I tell myself as a sort of clarion call, but I’ve cried wolf many times with that alarm to no avail.  Preliminary sketches joined rabbled scrawlings and mindless doodles, and canvases remain unopened in their protective wrapping…

This is where old tendencies kick in, the ol’ “rise and grind” mentality that drove me into the faulty thinking I’m still recovering from.  Which brings me to the main question at hand: What is my motivation if I’m not creating from a place of striving and fear? 

I don’t expect to remove all fear from the art-making process.  Every piece is ripe with micro-fears: “Is my anatomy correct?”  “Is this composition going to pan out?”  “How am I going to make this lighting work?”  All those are expected and natural.  What is less so are the existential macro-fears of “If this piece doesn’t work out, am I falling behind?”  “If I’m not creating, what am I even doing?  What’s the point of me?”  And so on…

Let’s just nip those macro-fears in the bud now.  Here's what I wrote to myself after a contemplative morning:

1) You are not falling behind in life, for that trajectory only extends to this day given to you (and perhaps the rest of the week at most).  Anything beyond that is a fool’s attempt to control the unknown; to set lanes for the wind and expect them to abide accordingly.  Remember that even 1% growth compounds, but that it usually falls below your threshold of detection on any given day.

2) The whole “what if this piece doesn’t work out” thing is stupid.  Every piece offers its own set of lessons, and the art-making process is one of working and re-working until diminishing returns surface.  Don’t belittle your art into a finite binary of “pass/fail.”

3) To the question of what you’re doing if not creating, the answer is “so many things!”  You are being a friend, a son, a brother, a mentor, and a teacher. You are working for the sake of the Kingdom, showing love to those around you.  You enjoy your body’s health, take in the beauty of nature, and have fun!  You read and write and wonder and explore and question and ponder.  You cook really good meals and make a nice home to rest in.  You dream and reflect and seek the things beyond.  And most importantly, you live in the love of Jesus, offering your own love in return.  Your life is so full!  Bursting at the seams.  And all this without ever picking up a pencil, paintbrush, or stylus.  

Remember, your fundamental Purpose is not to create art, but to love and be loved.  Art is one meaningful way of doing that, but far from the only way.  Your art practice is comprised of your whole life, not just time in the studio.  Don’t make it any smaller than that.  And in all these things you were made for Christ, who encapsulates the truest Purpose you could find. (Colossians 1:16)

That is the point of you.  Keep going.

While sharing a rooftop drink with a best friend, the topics of purpose, peace, and success were in deep dissection.  I lamented my recent frustration with how ambiguous purpose feels at times.  We questioned what metrics were in play beneath the surface; what would cause that sense of purpose to be so fleeting?  Then, my friend said the following:

"It makes sense...simply doing more isn't fulfilling; it's not about quantity of achievement, but quality.  Impact is personal."

I'd not thought about it that way before, and I'm still pretty shook.  So often I conflate my purpose with the tools used to actuate it.  Instead of making good on the fundamental purpose we all share—to love and be loved—I subconsciously make it about producing enough work, forwarding personal projects, etc.  

The problem is that when the tool becomes the purpose itself, success and peace hinge on producing "enough."  But because the tool has become both the means and end, there is nothing beyond it to inform when “enough” is met.

Instead, impact is personal and within relationships.  My creative ventures are just one means of expressing that purpose, but they're not the only way.  Every friend made, every person encouraged, every enlightening conversation has been as real of impact as I could ever hope to be a part of.

Anyway, those are the mental-swirlings of this week.  Lots of wonderful unlearning to do.  Hope you all are letting go of the things holding you back.

Some thoughts on the topic of "originality," after a recent conversation with a new friend.

We talked about how much pressure there is to innovate, to do something not done before, to be "original" within one's craft. And yet, when the conversation shifted toward the content we most enjoy, originality hardly seemed a thought. Curious.

It seems to me that originality hinges on unknowable metrics and impossible standards. Here's what I mean: whether something comes off as original to any given person is wholly dependent on the viewer's knowledge and experiences. What to me seems original may, to another more versed in the matter, come off as old-hat or even cliche. It's entirely subjective.

Nothing is created or expressed in a vacuum. We all create as a product of our influences, and add to the existing history of our field. Doing something that's never been done before has no inherent value, aside from fleeting novelty. And sure, there is something to be said about being overly derivative. In such a case, one seeks to pass off the work of another as their own contribution to history, without allowing the material to be translated through their own perspectives. That's no good, but is a bit tangential to the conversation at hand.

Rather, true originality comes from something having come from your unique hand or voice. What is more individual than your experiences? There exist millions of pieces similar to those I've created, and the same goes for a million love songs, poems, woodworking projects, or loaves of ciabatta (insert your own craft too). 

The value of these things comes not in them being solely original, but in them being meaningful acts by a person who, by nature, is original—it's something you are, not something you do.

There is an in-progress lesson the Lord is teaching me regarding art and anxiety.  Have you ever felt a strange resistance toward your passions?  Have you ever put off a personal project, doubted your abilities, or wondered if there were deeper levels of fulfillment for you?  Sweet, me too.  Let's talk about that.

I've been wondering what makes myself and others feel anxious, apathetic, or depressed about our creative passions.  Why do I feel such resistance to sit down and sketch or go to my studio to paint?  Shouldn't this anxiety negatively reinforce me to make art to feel better?  What driver is so powerful that my brain would rather remain apathetic than creating?

The answer is simple and unsurprising: fear.  We have been so conditioned by worldly metrics of success to think the point of creating is the outcome, end product, or impact it will have.  The fear of not measuring up can become so intense that we'd rather sit in apathy and anxiety if it means we don't have to engage that fear.   I'm learning there is another way.

What if, instead of creating despite fear, we could create without it, from a place of real peace and joy?  And if that place exists, how do we enter into it?

The solution (which I'm still very much working out), is to abandon our expectations over outcomes, that the end-product fade from our mind—if not entirely, then certainly most of the time.  Having goals can be helpful of course, but if they're rooted in worldly standards of success, then we're left chasing a bar always just out of reach.

A better goal has nothing to do with online reception or growing our careers.  Nothing to do with followers, likes, or revenue streams.  A better goal is to simply create from a place of peace, joy, and sustainability.  Motivation by fear alone is inherently unsustainable as it requires payment in the form of peace.  I don't want to create because there will be consequences if I'm not.  That's pressure, not passion.

I'm practicing how to unplug from prioritizing outcomes.  Because when it comes to these ventures, failure isn't a factor.  Most often, failure exists merely as worrisome thoughts of the future, rather than observations of a current reality.  It only serves to remove us from the present, which is where creation takes place.

The more real failure is embracing perspectives that keep me from creating—and enjoying it too!  So long as pencil is to paper, paint to canvas, or whatever it may be for you, victory is present and active.

I don't have all this figured out, but I hope this is an encouragement.  There is real hope for a better way.  Romans 7:15–8:7

What It Takes to Be an Artist: Purpose

So you’ve added some skills to your toolbox and there’s passion fueling your work—awesome! For some time, those two elements will suffice to define your practice, especially if you’re just getting started. However, as you take your artwork more and more seriously, the dreaded question of “So what?” may inevitably surface. 

For many (myself included), this question can come suddenly and unexpectedly, paralyzing one’s passion and rendering their skills useless. When I struggle with this, my mind spirals, thinking that I’m capable of creating pretty images, but they're of no impact. Fear says that my art is futile, and it may try and convince you to feel the same.

But all of this, of course, is a lie.

The question of “So what?” isn’t truly aimed at a single piece of art. Rather, it aims to undermine the larger purpose for which you create in the first place. Ask yourself:  What do you want your art to say? What do you want it to accomplish? Is your art meant to convey a certain idea or experience to the viewer? Or is it purely cathartic and personal? (All of which are perfectly valid by the way; one way is not greater than another.)

How you answer these questions over the course of your life will define your purpose in making art. It’s okay if you don’t have all answers now; to be an artist is to being willing to explore! For myself, creating art is always an investigation into ideas that I want to know more about. 

All this is to say that finding purpose in your work will take time and an open, curious mind. It often starts with what you’re passionate about, or a skillset you're confident in, and grows into something truly important. Root your purpose in the truth of what matters to you, not in fear of whether or not you’ll make a difference.

Your journey in discovering and solidifying purpose may look very different from mine. It may happen more immediately, or it could take years to form. But to risk the cliche, it really does start with believing in yourself and knowing your worth. Your artwork will follow the example of how you view yourself and your potential.

The three elements of skills, passion, and purpose are what I have found necessary in making art. I would love to know your thoughts and talk with you about where you fall in regards to these—send me a message! But most importantly, keep exploring and making what's most meaningful to you.

Peace~

What It Takes to Be an Artist: Passion

If skills are the tools you use to make art, passion is the fuel you burn while using them. Creating without passion merely becomes a job—a task to mark off—and can quickly lead to burnout. Of course, becoming a professional artist includes a certain amount of menial work, as with any job. But retaining and fostering a sense of curiosity is necessary to drive forward sustainably. While there maybe be instances when an artist makes work without passion, that should never define one’s practice.

For some, passion seems intrinsic to their DNA. For others it may feel like an elusive secret that you're grinding away to unlock. In the case of the latter, frustration can abound, leading us to give up before we even get started. Often, the question becomes “How do I find the passion to actually make something I care about?” It’s a valid question, but not as hard as it may seem.

Because passion is inherently personal, it is difficult to be taught, but it can be caught! Allow me to explain. There is no guaranteed, formulaic way to accumulate passion. There’s no equation to unlock feelings of motivation, nor is there a magic elixir you can drink to be filled with emotional energy (although coffee makes a decent argument). However, there are ways to catch passion if you’re willing to chase it down. I’ve found the following helpful in that pursuit:

1. Become immersed in inspiration. If your well of creativity is running dry, it's time to take a step back and fill up.  What is it that inspires you?  That fills you up?  That you enjoy learning about?  For me, it might be looking at other artists (if I'm feeling strong to not compare myself against them), hiking through nature, or recording a wild dream I had last night. Set aside time to enjoy your interests, apart from the expectation of having to produce something from them.

2. Be a passion parasite. Okay, maybe that came out wrong; try not to suck the life out of other people if you can. Rather, I mean that passion can be drawn from others.  If you’re feeling drained, spend time around those who are walking in a season of passion. Talk with those who are doing the things you want to be doing. Ask them questions, and in return, answer their questions about what you do. When you have to explain to someone else what you make, it causes you to remember why you found it interesting in the first place.  

3. If all else fails, just take a break. I've found it essential to have creative outlets besides art.  I often turn to playing guitar, video games, or getting in the kitchen.  There’s no shame in giving yourself some space, and it can allow you to return with fresher perspectives.  The key is that you must return!  Take a break, but make plans to come back.  

Passion can be nebulous and hard to hold onto, but I hope these tips spur you on.  Of course, there are times when you may need to push through making without passion, and we'll talk more on beating “art block” another time.  But for now, see what inspires you, talk about it with others, and don’t beat yourself up as passion comes in waves~

What It Takes to Be an Artist: Skills

“But I can’t even draw stick people!

Oof.  If I had a dime for every time I heard this, no one would ever worry about me being a “starving artist.”  Usually, this is said by those who don’t consider themselves artists, when viewing impressive work.  And believe me, I get the feeling of seeing art that is beyond your current capacity to make; that’s something I face on the daily.  But you and I both know you can make a stick person, and probably a mighty fine one at that!

Of course, this phrase isn’t really coming from someone’s inability to draw a circle with a few lines.  Roughly translated, “I can’t even draw stick people” means “I’m not sure I have what it takes to make art.”  And while those feelings are real, art is built on learnable skillsets.  Whether you have never considered making art, you want to start but don’t know how, or have been making art for years, I hope this encourages you to take a leap and try something new.

So what does it take to make art then?  For me, it comes down to three elements: skill, passion, and purpose.  If this sounds intimidating, don’t worry.  I guarantee you can do more than you think.  For now, let’s take these one at a time.

Skill

This is the element that tends the get the most attention.  Skill can be a bit flashy sometimes, as it receives the “oohs” and “ahhs” of the crowd.  But when it comes down to it, it may be the least important of the three, and here’s why: skill is a tool, not the product.  As a kid taking art classes, this isn’t something I understood.  The “best” art was always the piece that looked the most realistic, the one with the crispest lines, the most smoothly shaded values, etc.  I thought skill and the art were one and the same; the tool was the product in my mind.

As my practice developed though, a distinction made itself known.  Gradually, I realized that skills are useful to convey an idea clearly, but they do little to actually make that idea worth while.  The value of an idea is often subjective, but the point remains; I would take a crudely drawn picture made from the heart over a finely crafted image that means nothing to the artist.

Pursue skill not to give value to your work, but to clearly illustrate your valuable ideas.  This may mean painting realistically, it may not.  Amassing various skills serves as a tool box to effectively convey different ideas, but having these skills is not what solely makes me one an artist.

Maybe he’s born with it.  Maybe it’s...

Another misconception to clear is that you have to be born with skill in order to make art.  No person came out the womb with a paintbrush in hand, nor is an artist’s first piece ever their best.  It may be true that some have the ability to learn skills faster than others, but don't let that deter you!  I firmly believe that every person has the capacity to create in some way that is meaningful to them.  The trick is to explore and to give yourself the grace (i.e. embrace frustration and resistance as an inherent part of the process!).  

Take time to notice what type of art you enjoy viewing and/or making.  Especially note art forms you haven’t tried before; there is so much more to art than drawing and painting. Some people get up-in-arms about what is or isn’t art, but I’m not here to squash anyone's dreams.  Just make stuff that you care about.  Express and enjoy yourself, ya know?  Think about important things and form educated opinions about them. 

Taking another step

With this understanding of where skill lies in making art, you may be wondering where to start.  I often begin with a bit of research.  Interested in wood carving?  Google it!  Want to do digital painting?  Check YouTube!  Don’t let the sea of information scare you, pick up your oar and start paddling.  And of course, the value in putting pencil to paper cannot be overstated.  Keeping a sketchbook filled with scrawlings that you don’t share with anyone is especially helpful.

And beyond it all, know that it’s okay for what you make to not be “perfect,” if ever something could be.   As this blog develops, I will post various tips and tutorials to add to your box of skills (and tell me what's been helpful for you too!).  Keep exploring.  You've got more in you than you know.