How I Lost My Love For Art (And Gained It Back)

I’ve been creating art for most of my life. I can still remember the first time I drew a piece I was truly proud of. It was third grade so the piece wasn’t the best in the world, but it was something I created with my own hands.

Thus began my lifelong love of everything that had to do with art.

I began joining competitions too, as many as I could get my hands on. I didn’t win many, barely any if I’m completely honest. My freshman year of high school I placed third in the Upstate Eight competition for my high school. That was quite the confidence booster.

I became the artist of the family, the one that everyone turned to if they needed something drawn or painted, even if they needed photos edited. Paintings and portraits became my signature gift for friends and family. The praise was intoxicating.

When I got my IPod touch — quite the throwback — I jumped to the Internet like a fish to water. Like many other kids in the mid 2010s, I had unrestricted access to many different social media sites. Of course, I began to post. I didn’t have Instagram or Twitter for the longest time, but I did have Google+ and Youtube. Yeah, Google+. I’m sure a lot of people don’t even know what that is anymore.

At first, social media gave me the same rush that all those around me did. Every time I would get a single like or view, my heart would soar. There were other people out there, complete strangers, that liked what I was making.

It consumed me.

Then the Internet wasn’t the wonderful place that I always imagined it to be.

It wasn’t that long until I wasn’t gaining the traction I craved so much. Internet fame was something a lot of young teens and kids wanted — and still want. We looked up to the biggest YouTubers and Instagram influencers, though maybe I was a bit different as I idolized Tumblr blogs.

I would see these individuals get thousands of views, hundreds of likes, meanwhile I was posting my art as much as I could and still barely got into the double digits. When I saw them start commissions and open Redbubble shops, I jumped on the boat as well. It wasn’t as easy as just uploading a few designs and making some posts about commissions though.

Due to that, I didn’t receive the same attention that those I looked up to were getting.

What really hurt my confidence was my continual self-comparison to others. This only worsened when TikTok blew up over the pandemic. I would see dozens of posts about greatly talented and highly successful artists who were only in their early teens. These kids, because yes, they were kids, got loads of attention and praise which I wanted more than anything.

Now, no one’s shocked that a twenty-year-old can draw, they’re too busy looking at awe in the thirteen-year-old digital artist. I’m well aware that this is a bit sad to admit, being slightly jealous of those younger than me, but it’s the truth.

Growing older also prevented me from having the time I so desperately craved to create art. Once I hit junior year of high school, things really hit the ground running. I had to focus on AP classes, SAT prep and taking the exam, college application, college decisions, and then getting everything sorted to actually start and thrive in college.

I thought that by making my own daily schedule I would have the time to fit in creating art as well, but that was far from the truth. College work is intense: there’s always something to be done. At the end of the day, usually around ten or eleven, there simply wasn’t any more time or energy to even put together a collage.

Dozens of ideas floated in my head, pieces I wanted to paint, digital art I wanted to post, but I never had the time to actually do any of it. As I sat at my desk, realizing my posting schedule had fallen in the mud and my sketchbook hadn’t been touched in weeks, I wondered if this was what life was going to be like.

Call me dramatic, but I believed in those moments that I was going to have to leave art behind.

I couldn’t give up on art though.

I’ve been an artist for most of my life; I had a passion for it even if I wasn’t studying the subject in school or making any money off of it. Art had been a part of my life before social media was, before the commissions, before the praise.

I needed to learn to create art for myself again.

Slowly, I began making pieces just for my own eyes, the sorts that wouldn’t see the light of day, but which I could look back on and know that I created it.

Ironically, this change occurred during what should have been one of the most stressful weeks of the year — finals.

I got lucky in that I didn’t have many final exams, and I finished my projects quite quickly. So, I would take my sketchbook with me and walk around the streets of DC. I sat at memorials, plazas, and parks. My sketchbook was in hand as well as a simple pack of liner pens. I didn’t break out my extensive supplies — sometimes all I brought along was a ballpoint pen.

With headphones in my ears and city air in my lungs, I drew.

Many of the things I drew were based on the media that sparked my love of art to begin with, such as the brilliance of How To Train Your Dragon. Some were newer pieces as well like Arcane or Flow. The creators behind these projects shared a love for art, animation, and storytelling that had once coursed through my veins.

Soon enough, it began to rush through me once more.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when I had to drag myself to pick up my pen, times when my sketchbook page looked like a mess, but I kept working.

Art was always there, waiting for me to come back. It didn’t matter if I stepped away for a few days or for weeks, it welcomed me back with open arms. I still go through slumps when making anything creative or original feels impossible.

There are times when I want to tear my sketchbook to bits or uninstall my art programs because my work doesn’t look the way I want it to or isn’t on the same level of those that I look up to. I try not to let that deter me though. Those are the times I must willingly wish art goodbye, but it isn’t a total farewell. I’ll always come back.

Art lives within me, it would be unthinkable to abandon it forever.

So, to all those artists out there — any kind — who may be going through a slump, take a step back for a while. Maybe you need to rethink your angle, maybe you need to look within yourself to remember why you create art in the first place. After that, return with slow steps. I promise it will be worth it.