Monday 2 January 2023

Art Myth #1: People are born artists

I thought I'd kick off the New Year in a positive way by sharing some of my thoughts about art.

I used to teach art to teenagers and youth groups. And, later, to older people who didn't believe they could be artists. I  may go back to teaching it again now that the pandemic seems to be easing a little. Let's see how 2024 goes.

Interestingly, when discussing with my older students the subject of why they hadn't made art before, I'd hear the same five myths surface again and again. So I thought that I'd condense some of what I used to teach them into a series of five short mythbusting essays.

Here's Part One, in which I'll attempt to dispel the biggest myth of all:

Some people are born artists and some are not.
 
It's utter poppycock. 

Everyone is born an artist. However, some people remain an artist while others don't. 

That's the truth. 

At some time in your life you must have made marks on a piece of paper for fun. Or drawn on a wall (and maybe got told off for doing so). Or maybe you splashed some poster paint around, or made a monster from modelling clay, or stuck pieces of pasta and glitter onto a paper plate to make a Mother’s Day present? Even the person who considers themselves to be the most un-artistic and unimaginative person on the planet will have had a moment when they created something, enjoyed doing so, and were delighted with the finished result. If you watched any of the excellent Channel 4 series Grayson's Art Club you'll have seen many people making art - sometimes for the for the first time in their lives - and enjoying it. Making art helped a lot of people to get through lockdown. Art is good for you (read more here) and it's hugely rewarding and enjoyable. 

We are all born with the ability to make art. The problem is, as Picasso once said, ‘Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he (sic) grows up.’ 


The late creativity guru Sir Ken Robinson used to tell a story about a teacher who one day asked a young pupil what she was drawing and was told that it was a picture of God. 

‘But no-one knows what God looks like’, said the teacher. 
‘They will in a minute’, said the child. 

That child didn’t recognise any limitations on what she could or couldn’t draw … until an adult imposed them. 

When we are young children, we don’t recognise creative boundaries. We are all born with imaginations and we believe that anything is possible … until someone comes along and tells us otherwise. 


My granddaughter painted these elephants when she was six. She couldn’t remember what an elephant’s tail looked like but she had the confidence to ‘have a go’. 

Meanwhile, the animal below was drawn by my grandson when he was five. 


When I asked why the animal had five legs I was reliably informed that it would 'be able to run faster with five legs'. What a joy to have an imagination unbounded by the laws of both physics and natural selection! 

My kids and grandkids were always delighted with what they'd painted. 'It's a train!' they would tell me as I tried to find anything even remotely train-like among the raw blue, yellow and red splodges of poster paint. Children value what they create. It's naïve art in its purest form as they have not yet developed a knowledge of other artists’ work against which to compare their own efforts. And they have no preconceived notion of what their art should ‘do’. They feel nothing but joy in the act of creation. 

Sadly, the curse of adulthood is self-awareness and the loss of naïveté and confidence. And that all-too often starts when creativity is stifled by an unthinking comment. I heard a story once from a woman who hadn't made art for 30 years. As a child she'd painted a multi-coloured snowman. An adult then told her it was wrong and made her 'paint it properly'. She didn't pick up a brush again for three decades. I was so saddened by the story that I made a sculpture and it became the class mascot.


Another lady told me that when she was six she’d proudly showed her father a picture that she’d spent a whole evening meticulously copying from a book. Her father accused her of tracing it. The disappointment and upset of that single event stopped her from drawing for more than 40 years.

Sadly, these kinds of stories are all too common.

And things are now worse than ever because of the internet. Up until the end of the 19th century people only had exhibitions and galleries where they could go and view other artists' work. And in rural communities, and particularly among poorer working people, there was no exposure to art at all. So people made art without pressure. But then came cinema and television and the World Wide Web. And, now that the work of every artist in the world can be viewed online, many people shrink away from art because they think that everyone else is 'better' than them.

They're not. They're different, that's all. 

And the biggest difference between you and people you think of as artists is that they didn’t lose the confidence they were born with. You are just as talented and capable of creating art as anyone else. You have exactly the same tools and ability as Picasso possessed and, had you been at school with him, you would have both made very similar artwork. 

Ask people if they rode a bicycle as a child and most will say yes. It wasn’t a skill they were born with – they acquired it. The majority of us are born with eyes, arms, legs and a sense of balance. We are then encouraged to use them in a particular way to ride a bike. Some of us get it quicker than others but we all eventually get it. And, once we get started, the more we practice the better we get. That's how skills work - after all, you wouldn't expect to get in a car and spontaneously be able to drive it perfectly would you? Skills take time to develop.

Compare that to the ability to make art. The majority of us are born with eyes, arms, legs and a basic aesthetic sense. We are then encouraged to use them to create art. Some of us get it quicker than others but we all eventually get it. And, once we get started, the more we practice the better we get. That's how skills work - after all, you wouldn't expect to sit at a piano and spontaneously be able to play the Brandenburg Concertos would you? Skills take time to develop.

If you ask an adult if they can still ride a bicycle, they’ll generally say yes. They haven’t lost the ability (though they may be a little rusty). Most importantly, they have no hang-ups about riding a bicycle because no one ever told them they were riding a bicycle ‘wrong’. And they probably don't compare their bike riding to that of other cyclists. But if you ask an adult if they still make art, a lot of them will say no. And that’s usually because someone – sometimes their own brain – has told them that they’re doing it ‘wrong’. And that’s a very curious thing because there is no right or wrong in art, as we'll discuss in my next essay.

Anyone can learn to play tennis but to play tennis well you have to hit the courts for several hours a day. No one was born a tennis champion. They worked for it. 

Anyone can make art. But it too requires effort and passion and practice. And it all begins by believing that you can.  

As Spike Milligan once said, ‘Children don’t grow up. They disappear.’ 

You just need to find that creative child again. 


Photo: Mario Cacciottolo at www.someoneoncetoldme.com 


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