Your art doesn’t need to be precious.

You are going to make something else tomorrow.

I’m the oldest of eight children, and because of this, I spent all of my childhood and teenage years living with babies and toddlers. I love being an older sister. I’ve always loved it, but sometimes I didn’t like it. This is a story about a disaster, my brother Milon, and learning how to be a better artist. 

I was eleven when Milon was born. He is sibling number five. 

If you’ve never lived in a house with babies or small children here is what you need to know. Babies are great. When they are about a year old they learn to walk and start talking and it’s so fun. When they are somewhere in their second year they figure out how to open doors. Thus commences the terrible twos. By the time Milon had his terrible twos I’d already been through this phase three times. So you think I’d be an old hat at handling two-year-olds, but Milon’s terrible twos were like, extra terrible. He was more curious, and more determined than my other siblings. Like a tiny tornado ripping through the house, spilling nail polish, coloring walls, and getting into my stuff.

By the time Milon was two, I was 13, and I was happily turning into the fantasy artist that you know and love. (Or maybe you don’t love me but at least you’ve heard of me.) Around that time, I discovered the joy of the Prismacolor pencil. I had my own set, and after creating a few Prismacolor drawings by copying photographs I set forth to create an amazing masterpiece. It was a drawing of four beautiful winged fairies frolicking in the flowers. (Maybe I should defend my tastes here by saying, “I was only 13, so what do you expect?” But, I still sometime draw frolicking fairies today so… I guess there is no defense.) 

I was really proud of my fairy sketch. I’d drawn it from my head and it looked AMAZING! It had a fairy sitting on a leaf, and another fairy dancing (probably also on a leaf) I think there were some flying fairies too. All the fairies had clothing made out of flower petals and leaves. I loved it. And after finishing my amazing sketch I set about to color it. 

This was no small feat. I think the drawing was 10″x16″ and I had to cover every inch with Prismacolor, making sure to blend the bright vibrant colors so the whole drawing looked like a photograph. (hm… It does not, but that was the goal.)

Have you added the pieces of my story together by now? If not I’ll help you out. Piece number 1: two-year-old tornado-brother plus Piece number 2: Amazing artwork that I spent weeks on equals an artistic tragedy.

I’m sure the drawing was in my room. I’m sure the door was closed— and it probably had one of those childproof door nobs on it too.

I don’t know how he got in.

But, when I found it— the lovely, amazing, half-finished masterpiece of my youth— There were brown scribbles all over the front of it. It was unsalvageable and I was heartbroken. 

But that is not the end of the story because I re-drew my masterpiece. And I learned that when you redraw your art, some things turn out better the second time around. Some things also turn out worse. I didn’t like the second drawing as much but I was determined to keep going.  

And then Milon got hold of it again. 

You’d think I’d learned my lesson the first time. In fact, I did. Milon just got more innovative. I’m always going to remember that he was the most terrible-two two-year-old of any of my siblings. (It doesn’t matter if he’s in his 30s now and hasn’t ruined any of my artwork for a long long time.)

Luckily this second time around the scribble was lighter and there were just two of them. Not a whole mess. I was mostly able to cover up Milon’s contribution with the help of my art teacher. 

So— Besides being a heart-wrenching tragic story— why does this matter to you?

When I think back to those two drawings. One thing I realized, is that there is always more art to be made. My current masterpiece isn’t going to be my masterpiece in two years, or ten, or 28. Finish something, good or bad, and then go make something else.

Being an artist is about solving the problem in front of you now, and having the most fun doing it that you can. (Could that also apply to being human?) 

Sometimes the art we create can make its way out into the world and bless other people’s lives. Like my second fairy drawing which my mom framed and hung in our bathroom, over the toilet, for the next who-knows-how-many years. Mine and Milon’s collaboration blessed the lives of my family that whole time.

And, sometimes art doesn’t make its way into the world. Sometimes it sits in a drawer. But, the process of making the art, is just as valuable (or maybe more valuable) than the finished result.