I’ve just started a new hobby. When I was a pre-teen, I took a class in charcoal drawing at a local art store. I really enjoyed those classes, and was proud of the sketchbook full of work I produced. This probably doesn’t come as a surprise to those of you who know how much I value creativity and creative work, but I once loved art. I even took advanced art classes in school for awhile, but I had to give them up in favor of music; it wouldn’t fit in my schedule to do both. It’s one of the big sadnesses of my life that I couldn’t continue to learn art in school. (I’d have given up French or chemistry in a heartbeat.)
It’s now twenty-plus years later, and I’m feeling the pull to return. For my Mother’s Day gift this year, I asked my husband for a set of charcoals and a sketch pad. We went to the local art supply store and spent about $30, nothing extravagant. I’d like to take lessons, but unfortunately can’t find anything local for adults. So I’m looking up how-to videos on YouTube instead, hoping to brush up on my skills; it has been a long time.
Yet even with my craving, even with the supplies at hand, even though I’ve looked at a few instructional videos, I haven’t actually put charcoal to sketchpad yet. Why?
It’s the same reason I have trouble jumping into anything new and exciting: I’m afraid I won’t be good at it.
Part of me is screaming, “Who cares? This is just for fun!” But another part of me, the educator/perfectionist, believes nothing’s worth doing if you don’t do it well. And I know I don’t have a lot of time to put into a drawing practice, unless I sacrifice my writing practice (which I won’t do) or my reading time (which I can’t fathom). So I’m only going to be as good as an out-of-practice artist with just one class in her distant past.
The weight of all this expectation is sitting on top of my charcoals and sketchpad and making them feel more precious than they should. I am afraid to waste the materials I bought by creating something meaningless and childish. They feel too special to waste just in the name of doing something for “fun.”
But this is progress. With other hobbies in the past, I balked and didn’t try hard enough to incorporate them into my life, and never thought about why. This time I know it’s my own nature rebelling against the concept of fun and doing something just for the sake of it, rather than to get better at it. For most things in life, I want to grow and improve. But it’s okay to have a hobby where I just relax and have fun, whatever the result. And I need to get past it. At least this time, I’m recognizing that my materials aren’t as precious as I am making them out to be. I’m going to make it my goal to “waste” them as often as possible.
Does anyone else feel this way about hobbies? Do you only choose to do things that you know you can do well?
You come up with some of the most fascinating and meaningful blog post ideas, Leanne. I loved this one, partly because I know the feeling. Coloring in my mandala coloring book used to bring out my perfectionism. Maybe not in the way that a more skilled artistic hobby would, but sometimes I would think, “I need to color inside the lines better,” or “Why did I put those colors next to each other?” And it started taking the fun out of coloring – and I wanted it to be fun, and relaxing. So, I decided to let go of all judgment as best as I could when I colored, and not to criticize my “sloppiness” or color choices. And now I enjoy it a lot more.
Sometimes it’s hard for people (perhaps more so for some than others) to embrace their inner child. If we’re used to pursuing a goal or purpose, why should we do something simply for the sake of fun? But if we don’t let ourselves be playful or less than perfect once in a while, we might forgot what it means to have hobbies. We might forget the child within. Those precious sketching materials are your reminder to take care of little Leanne – and I hope you enjoy “wasting” them. 🙂
I was actually thinking of your coloring, Sara, and wondering if you’d struggled with something similar when transitioning from writing to art! I always need to be careful with my perfectionistic, goal-oriented tendencies. In some areas of my life they’re incredibly useful. But in other areas, like this one, I have to really put a guard up between those tendencies and my vulnerable soul.
I love your thought about the inner child. I don’t think about my inner child enough. I wonder if it’s because of having had cancer at 13- maybe she feels blocked by that experience? Something to think about.
“I don’t think about my inner child enough. I wonder if it’s because of having had cancer at 13- maybe she feels blocked by that experience? Something to think about.”
It’s possible. I wasn’t in touch with mine for a long time because I felt compelled to live up to everyone’s expectations, instead of pursuing my passions (including writing) and making myself happy. But ever since I moved out on my own 5 years ago, I’ve gradually learned to pay more attention to the Sara within. I think she’s much happier now. 🙂
You’re an INFJ, right? I’m an ISFJ… I wonder if our strong Judging functions might have had something to do with it, too.
And you know what else helped? Books by Sue Thoele Patton and Anne Morrow Lindburgh. Have you heard of The Woman’s Book of Confidence, The Woman’s Book of Courage, or A Gift From The Sea?
“It’s just paper”–that’s what my friend and watercolor teacher Laure Ferlita always tells us. But that doesn’t stop me from having moments of reluctance (not to say terror) before starting a new page in my sketchbook. The more we play, the easier it becomes, and the medium becomes less precious (in a good way). Hope you have fun with your new toys!
Oh Kathy, I LOVE how you just changed the meaning of “precious” for me. I’m not sure if it’s how you intended the comment, but I was suddenly able to transfer identifying the word from “a commodity to hoard and protect” to ” something to savor.” That’s going to be super-useful during this process. Thank you!