In my practice, we often talk about the need for scaffolding to support readiness to try something. It doesn't matter how seemingly easy or simple or even logical the small step may be to others, and "should be" to you--if it doesn't feel safe, we add scaffolding. Having some time to play, to feel unrushed, and get messy sounds like the scaffolding that was needed.
It's hard to take new instruction when you're still getting situated. Also, just working with a lot of neurodivergent folks, we're dealing with a lot of hidden symptoms--social anxiety, auditory processing issues, sensory sensitivities, under/overstimulation etc. and I wish more instructors would give some space if someone happens to be going about things in their own way.
I have led quite a few different arts and crafts classes in my time and there are many interesting ways people cope with hitting the rough part of the learning curve. This is one of them! Spite is a wonderful motivator under the right circumstances.
Anyway this was honestly kind of infuriating to read but insightful and timely as I continue to ponder the various reasons some people refuse to study fundamental skills in their creative field of choice.
I've heard "it will stifle my emotional expression to learn [how to make anything but an ashtray]" in so many different spaces, but those tend to be the loudest voices only, and I wonder what else is going unsaid.
I've had the same feelings/ experience when I've taught writing. Learning the fundamentals feels so... fundamental! But when I stopped and thought about how I learned to write -- the years I spent writing down my feelings in spiral notebooks as a lonely teenager, the years I spent typing into my laptop as a lonely 20-something, the ways I learned to trust myself and feel my way in the dark as a fledgling cartoonist, and TV critic, and essayist -- I realize that I had an intuitive sense that I would stop wanting to do a thing the second someone told me that it could only be done ONE WAY, the one *right* way.
And for better or for worse, I've been quite publicly doing things in lots of wrong and right ways ever since. The perils of this approach are apparent in a lot of my writing, but I'd also argue that I've come to a place where the fluidity and easy flow of my words are a direct result of years of trusting myself and believing in my weird path. I never wanted to make things that are too similar to other people's things, and the second I think I'm replicating someone else's work somewhere else, I lose interest.
Now obviously there are plenty of fields where you eventually have to relent and surrender and learn the basics. I am making bowls now! It is nice to make a bowl! But I think that some people know themselves well, even when they're very young. They know what they need to feel safe enough to create. And the more you respect their process and their discoveries and their curiosity (which might unfold slowly), the more they tend to reach out and ask for guidance that is helpful to them. And when they do reach out, their questions sound less like "tell me if this is good enough or if I should quit" and more like "does this work?" and "how can I structure this so it works better?"
I also think that anytime you feel spiteful (me) or infuriated (you), that's information. I spent a few days after that one bad pottery class asking myself hard questions about how I react to expertise and authority and compromise and collaboration at this late date. I thought a lot about what a big baby I am and how often I poop my pants and how stupid it is. It's funny to me and it's also CLEARLY pathetic and ridiculous!
But what I came away with is this: I am old enough to know what I like, and I don't have some gigantic investment in becoming an expert potter. I just want to fuck around and make strange things and have a great time doing it. I'll gain skills at my own pace and mess around at my own pace and that's just how I'm going to handle this particular creative sideshow.
And honestly, I think that this approach has actually enhanced my writing a lot lately. I'm less of a militant GET TO WORK type of boss to myself right now, and I think my writing is good at the moment as a result. The other day, instead of trying to write something great straight away, I sat down and wrote out ideas in pen on several pieces of paper. It felt so good that I decided that for my next book, this will be part of my process: brainstorming and outlining in ink and enjoying the messiness of that. And also taking my time to think through a lot of dimensions of the book BEFORE beginning it. Somehow this made me feel more inspired and obsessed than ever.
All of that said, obviously all of this YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING applies to you as a teacher. You get to do pound home the importance of fundamental skills as much as you want to, and you get to believe in the structures and habits and creative paths that work for you. I love that my current pottery teacher is so adamant that we do things EXACTLY as she does them. If she weren't so at peace with her own weird ways, it would be much harder to take instruction from her. Being at peace with YOUR WAY and loving it is infectious -- it makes everyone around you more inspired and energized and ready to try.
I love your essay and this response. This idea about "fundamentals", that there are such immutable things, it's maddening. My parallel journey is with music theory. I am currently reworking my understanding the idea of a "key". What is the key of C, really? It's settled as far as many people are concerned. I'm not so sure. I swallowed the bait, hook line and sinker, and for decades it was, this is in a "key", this is not in that "key". But now, I think some of those things were wrong. I can even take my questions back to the physics of vibrating things. I have valid questions. I will not let go. The new sounds are too good to ignore.
I love your ashtrays. I see them everywhere. My mind is at peace looking at my father's empty ashtray.
Ken, if you haven't already explored this, you might be interested in exploring Indian Classical Music theory (such as Carnatic Music) where there is no fixed key for songs, but is reliant on shruthi (a rough explanation is that notes are sung/played in relation to each other's pitch) with the singer picking their bases notes on their voice range.
As an artist, and a teacher, I think that there is something being oft and inherently missed here. I absolutely think that there is value in learning the fundamental skills in a creative field of choice; the learning of these skills can become an invaluable asset. That said, if there is no passion behind this...there is absolutely no point at all. Passion has to come first. And while there are many nuanced reasons, very many intricacies in the reasoning or personal struggles of the creative individual, sometimes; even often; it has to be a matter of doing what works for them, or them "just doing what they want". When self motivated or properly encouraged...even allowed as opposed to pushed...this is where the magic happens. And I think that's the difference; being allowed to explore as opposed to being pushed into doing something (whatever the reason). There are times that being pushed can be exactly what someone needs...and there are times when pushing them will kill them (this works both figuratively and literally).
This feels true to my experience! i wanted to write for as long as I can remember, loved books, used my diary to express everything i could. as a very young fiction writer I was mostly in awe of "real" writers--discouragement as well as inspiration could come from reading something amazing. I sought out writing advice *constantly*, I wanted all the rules, and it mostly served to make me worried. Finally, when I was 18, I resolved to just start finishing anything I could finish. If that meant I had to write more dumb, terrible romances about anachronistic pirates with not-enough knowledge about how boats worked, so be it. I just wanted to keep going.
Then, I took a few English classes in college that inspired me to pursue new books, new writers, new trains of thought... and that inspiration led me to the fundamentals I needed. Now I'm in love with my personal curation of "necessary" writers, and I can't imagine my reading or writing life without them. My necessary writers aren't going to match everyone's. The best thing my teachers did for me was show me paths toward finding what I needed. I'm endlessly grateful to them!
But I really believe that if I had never done the pirate stories--if I had decided I didn't know enough, sucked too much, whatever--then I never could developed the confidence to start peering down the paths that my teachers were showing me.
I love this so much. I just started archery, basically by ordering a basic archery kit and watching one video where an Olympian explains how to hold the bow, the arrows and how to aim. Since then I've just been shooting arrows, sometimes hitting the paper target, sometimes hitting the backdrop for the paper target. "Maybe I should watch more videos," I thought to myself recently. And maybe I will. But for now it's just play.
I took roller-skating lessons until I knew enough that I stopped falling over and ended up not wanting to bother learning dance moves. Sometimes I think I should learn more but mostly I roll around my neighborhood. There is something to be said for just playing.
Love the reminder that we all know what good feels like.
Focussing too much on the outcomes can be counterproductive, because it kills the joy of learning. When you focus on the process itself instead and enjoy the progress, look at failures as stepping stones, it becomes self-propelling.
I’m so grateful that I’m in a place in my life where I understand and agree. A poet, acclaimed at the time, once told me that he didn’t revise much, and I told him I didn’t understand how to revise, though I got the sense that it was change it until you like it, and he said yeah, that’s what it is. Almost fifteen years later, I’m done with my messy, lyric, unpublishable essay collection, and I do think someone will publish it, the tiniest press ever maybe, and someone will love it. All the agents who’ve asked to read the whole thing write back and say, it’s too self-conscious and fragmented. But that’s how the book is. It’s my ashtray! I’m writing other things now, and I started that book nine years ago, and the person who started it wanted a deliciously angsty self-conscious autofiction, and I stand by them, and the person I am now also wants this mental illness anti-memoir that doesn’t arc toward healing, though I heal. I feel like it wasn’t until I understood this message that I understood (at 38, this year) what it means to be an artist: you make your work and make it and you offer it as it is, whether or not anyone takes it.
I really loved this essay Heather, and your comment Shamala! I love writing fantasy YA type of stories that end up having a lot of different genre influences, and it’s been a lot of fun but I’ve always struggled with writers block. I usually get super inspired about an idea, and I’ll write a few thousand words in a day, and hang onto that idea for a few days, a few months if I’m lucky, and then suddenly the switch turns off and I have no interest in the story. Occasionally I return to old stories and it’s cool to see myself in these ideas, but I also think I might be abandoning the book ideas because they get too personal and based on my own traumas/lived experiences/hopes and dreams and all that makes me who I am. I’m taking a writing class right now, so I’m hoping that will help me to write some more stuff, because I’ve noticed I’m a lot better at writing something when I have a deadline set by someone else. We will see! I appreciate you sharing your experiences, good luck with publishing your book! :)
Hi bearfear, how nice that you responded to my comment! All of what you’re describing about the writing process is really familiar to me, both getting bored of projects and running into personal traumas. Taking writing classes really helped me! I have an MFA and a PhD in creative writing, so I’ve taken lots of workshops (and taught them), and I find that having a group of interested peers helps me feel like I have someone I’m writing to! Maybe you’ll find a writing group with people in your class.
Of course! Okay cool, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one lol. Yeah, we’ve only had a few classes so far since it’s the beginning of the semester but I definitely feel like we have a good group! The professor is also really cool so far, she’s really sweet and emphasizing trusting yourself and just writing, not worrying about making it “perfect,” so that’s already helped me a lot! Thank you so much, you too! :)
I love this. It reminds me of my process of learning how to watercolor. I didn't start with fundamentals or formal lessons—I got paints and tried fucking around with them myself. I ended up making things that were very special and brought me a lot of happiness. Growing up, I was never a "creative" person, I was the "smart" one, so even allowing myself to do something like that while knowing that I WOULD fuck up along the way and not be perfect was big for me. Now that I feel more comfortable in calling myself "creative," it's easier for me to invest time and energy into learning more traditional watercolor skills and getting better supplies to hone the work I do. But first, I just needed to show myself I could do something messy and expressive and be fulfilled doing it, otherwise all the fundamentals in the world would not have made me a soulful artist and would have just stifled me.
In my practice, we often talk about the need for scaffolding to support readiness to try something. It doesn't matter how seemingly easy or simple or even logical the small step may be to others, and "should be" to you--if it doesn't feel safe, we add scaffolding. Having some time to play, to feel unrushed, and get messy sounds like the scaffolding that was needed.
It's hard to take new instruction when you're still getting situated. Also, just working with a lot of neurodivergent folks, we're dealing with a lot of hidden symptoms--social anxiety, auditory processing issues, sensory sensitivities, under/overstimulation etc. and I wish more instructors would give some space if someone happens to be going about things in their own way.
I'm an art teacher for neurodiverse kids and I agree with your comment 100%! :-)
I have led quite a few different arts and crafts classes in my time and there are many interesting ways people cope with hitting the rough part of the learning curve. This is one of them! Spite is a wonderful motivator under the right circumstances.
Anyway this was honestly kind of infuriating to read but insightful and timely as I continue to ponder the various reasons some people refuse to study fundamental skills in their creative field of choice.
I've heard "it will stifle my emotional expression to learn [how to make anything but an ashtray]" in so many different spaces, but those tend to be the loudest voices only, and I wonder what else is going unsaid.
I've had the same feelings/ experience when I've taught writing. Learning the fundamentals feels so... fundamental! But when I stopped and thought about how I learned to write -- the years I spent writing down my feelings in spiral notebooks as a lonely teenager, the years I spent typing into my laptop as a lonely 20-something, the ways I learned to trust myself and feel my way in the dark as a fledgling cartoonist, and TV critic, and essayist -- I realize that I had an intuitive sense that I would stop wanting to do a thing the second someone told me that it could only be done ONE WAY, the one *right* way.
And for better or for worse, I've been quite publicly doing things in lots of wrong and right ways ever since. The perils of this approach are apparent in a lot of my writing, but I'd also argue that I've come to a place where the fluidity and easy flow of my words are a direct result of years of trusting myself and believing in my weird path. I never wanted to make things that are too similar to other people's things, and the second I think I'm replicating someone else's work somewhere else, I lose interest.
Now obviously there are plenty of fields where you eventually have to relent and surrender and learn the basics. I am making bowls now! It is nice to make a bowl! But I think that some people know themselves well, even when they're very young. They know what they need to feel safe enough to create. And the more you respect their process and their discoveries and their curiosity (which might unfold slowly), the more they tend to reach out and ask for guidance that is helpful to them. And when they do reach out, their questions sound less like "tell me if this is good enough or if I should quit" and more like "does this work?" and "how can I structure this so it works better?"
I also think that anytime you feel spiteful (me) or infuriated (you), that's information. I spent a few days after that one bad pottery class asking myself hard questions about how I react to expertise and authority and compromise and collaboration at this late date. I thought a lot about what a big baby I am and how often I poop my pants and how stupid it is. It's funny to me and it's also CLEARLY pathetic and ridiculous!
But what I came away with is this: I am old enough to know what I like, and I don't have some gigantic investment in becoming an expert potter. I just want to fuck around and make strange things and have a great time doing it. I'll gain skills at my own pace and mess around at my own pace and that's just how I'm going to handle this particular creative sideshow.
And honestly, I think that this approach has actually enhanced my writing a lot lately. I'm less of a militant GET TO WORK type of boss to myself right now, and I think my writing is good at the moment as a result. The other day, instead of trying to write something great straight away, I sat down and wrote out ideas in pen on several pieces of paper. It felt so good that I decided that for my next book, this will be part of my process: brainstorming and outlining in ink and enjoying the messiness of that. And also taking my time to think through a lot of dimensions of the book BEFORE beginning it. Somehow this made me feel more inspired and obsessed than ever.
All of that said, obviously all of this YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING applies to you as a teacher. You get to do pound home the importance of fundamental skills as much as you want to, and you get to believe in the structures and habits and creative paths that work for you. I love that my current pottery teacher is so adamant that we do things EXACTLY as she does them. If she weren't so at peace with her own weird ways, it would be much harder to take instruction from her. Being at peace with YOUR WAY and loving it is infectious -- it makes everyone around you more inspired and energized and ready to try.
I love your essay and this response. This idea about "fundamentals", that there are such immutable things, it's maddening. My parallel journey is with music theory. I am currently reworking my understanding the idea of a "key". What is the key of C, really? It's settled as far as many people are concerned. I'm not so sure. I swallowed the bait, hook line and sinker, and for decades it was, this is in a "key", this is not in that "key". But now, I think some of those things were wrong. I can even take my questions back to the physics of vibrating things. I have valid questions. I will not let go. The new sounds are too good to ignore.
I love your ashtrays. I see them everywhere. My mind is at peace looking at my father's empty ashtray.
Ken, if you haven't already explored this, you might be interested in exploring Indian Classical Music theory (such as Carnatic Music) where there is no fixed key for songs, but is reliant on shruthi (a rough explanation is that notes are sung/played in relation to each other's pitch) with the singer picking their bases notes on their voice range.
Thank you. I'll look into that.
As an artist, and a teacher, I think that there is something being oft and inherently missed here. I absolutely think that there is value in learning the fundamental skills in a creative field of choice; the learning of these skills can become an invaluable asset. That said, if there is no passion behind this...there is absolutely no point at all. Passion has to come first. And while there are many nuanced reasons, very many intricacies in the reasoning or personal struggles of the creative individual, sometimes; even often; it has to be a matter of doing what works for them, or them "just doing what they want". When self motivated or properly encouraged...even allowed as opposed to pushed...this is where the magic happens. And I think that's the difference; being allowed to explore as opposed to being pushed into doing something (whatever the reason). There are times that being pushed can be exactly what someone needs...and there are times when pushing them will kill them (this works both figuratively and literally).
This feels true to my experience! i wanted to write for as long as I can remember, loved books, used my diary to express everything i could. as a very young fiction writer I was mostly in awe of "real" writers--discouragement as well as inspiration could come from reading something amazing. I sought out writing advice *constantly*, I wanted all the rules, and it mostly served to make me worried. Finally, when I was 18, I resolved to just start finishing anything I could finish. If that meant I had to write more dumb, terrible romances about anachronistic pirates with not-enough knowledge about how boats worked, so be it. I just wanted to keep going.
Then, I took a few English classes in college that inspired me to pursue new books, new writers, new trains of thought... and that inspiration led me to the fundamentals I needed. Now I'm in love with my personal curation of "necessary" writers, and I can't imagine my reading or writing life without them. My necessary writers aren't going to match everyone's. The best thing my teachers did for me was show me paths toward finding what I needed. I'm endlessly grateful to them!
But I really believe that if I had never done the pirate stories--if I had decided I didn't know enough, sucked too much, whatever--then I never could developed the confidence to start peering down the paths that my teachers were showing me.
That's really encouraging, thank you :)
I love this so much. I just started archery, basically by ordering a basic archery kit and watching one video where an Olympian explains how to hold the bow, the arrows and how to aim. Since then I've just been shooting arrows, sometimes hitting the paper target, sometimes hitting the backdrop for the paper target. "Maybe I should watch more videos," I thought to myself recently. And maybe I will. But for now it's just play.
I took roller-skating lessons until I knew enough that I stopped falling over and ended up not wanting to bother learning dance moves. Sometimes I think I should learn more but mostly I roll around my neighborhood. There is something to be said for just playing.
Love the reminder that we all know what good feels like.
Focussing too much on the outcomes can be counterproductive, because it kills the joy of learning. When you focus on the process itself instead and enjoy the progress, look at failures as stepping stones, it becomes self-propelling.
I’m so grateful that I’m in a place in my life where I understand and agree. A poet, acclaimed at the time, once told me that he didn’t revise much, and I told him I didn’t understand how to revise, though I got the sense that it was change it until you like it, and he said yeah, that’s what it is. Almost fifteen years later, I’m done with my messy, lyric, unpublishable essay collection, and I do think someone will publish it, the tiniest press ever maybe, and someone will love it. All the agents who’ve asked to read the whole thing write back and say, it’s too self-conscious and fragmented. But that’s how the book is. It’s my ashtray! I’m writing other things now, and I started that book nine years ago, and the person who started it wanted a deliciously angsty self-conscious autofiction, and I stand by them, and the person I am now also wants this mental illness anti-memoir that doesn’t arc toward healing, though I heal. I feel like it wasn’t until I understood this message that I understood (at 38, this year) what it means to be an artist: you make your work and make it and you offer it as it is, whether or not anyone takes it.
I really loved this essay Heather, and your comment Shamala! I love writing fantasy YA type of stories that end up having a lot of different genre influences, and it’s been a lot of fun but I’ve always struggled with writers block. I usually get super inspired about an idea, and I’ll write a few thousand words in a day, and hang onto that idea for a few days, a few months if I’m lucky, and then suddenly the switch turns off and I have no interest in the story. Occasionally I return to old stories and it’s cool to see myself in these ideas, but I also think I might be abandoning the book ideas because they get too personal and based on my own traumas/lived experiences/hopes and dreams and all that makes me who I am. I’m taking a writing class right now, so I’m hoping that will help me to write some more stuff, because I’ve noticed I’m a lot better at writing something when I have a deadline set by someone else. We will see! I appreciate you sharing your experiences, good luck with publishing your book! :)
Hi bearfear, how nice that you responded to my comment! All of what you’re describing about the writing process is really familiar to me, both getting bored of projects and running into personal traumas. Taking writing classes really helped me! I have an MFA and a PhD in creative writing, so I’ve taken lots of workshops (and taught them), and I find that having a group of interested peers helps me feel like I have someone I’m writing to! Maybe you’ll find a writing group with people in your class.
Thank you, and good luck with your writing, too!
Of course! Okay cool, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one lol. Yeah, we’ve only had a few classes so far since it’s the beginning of the semester but I definitely feel like we have a good group! The professor is also really cool so far, she’s really sweet and emphasizing trusting yourself and just writing, not worrying about making it “perfect,” so that’s already helped me a lot! Thank you so much, you too! :)
Seth Rogan mostly makes ashtrays & it seems to have worked out for him!!! https://www.houseplant.com/collections/by-seth
I love this. It reminds me of my process of learning how to watercolor. I didn't start with fundamentals or formal lessons—I got paints and tried fucking around with them myself. I ended up making things that were very special and brought me a lot of happiness. Growing up, I was never a "creative" person, I was the "smart" one, so even allowing myself to do something like that while knowing that I WOULD fuck up along the way and not be perfect was big for me. Now that I feel more comfortable in calling myself "creative," it's easier for me to invest time and energy into learning more traditional watercolor skills and getting better supplies to hone the work I do. But first, I just needed to show myself I could do something messy and expressive and be fulfilled doing it, otherwise all the fundamentals in the world would not have made me a soulful artist and would have just stifled me.
Love these comments. I can only dream of an Ask Polly meetup group someday.
100%. This is so so so important.