Growing up, I was a pretty artistic kid. I enjoyed drawing and painting. It wasn’t like I was a prodigy. I wasn’t good at it, per se, but I enjoyed it.
Get The Latest News!
Don't miss our top stories and need-to-know news everyday in your inbox.
I filled dozens of notebooks with sketches. My grandparents got me a Bob Ross oil painting set, and I was hooked. I spent hours out on the deck, making a huge mess, very pleased with all the masterpieces I created.
And then I grew up, and I got busy with other hobbies and interests and responsibilities. Plus, some of my whimsy went away. Before, it didn't matter that I wasn’t “good” at art (whatever “good” means, anyway). I just had a blast. But suddenly, my latent perfectionist side was budding, and I became my biggest critic.
Like most perfectionists, I handled this by avoiding the activity altogether. It wasn’t perfect, so it wasn’t worth doing. I passed many years this way, totally missing the point.
But lately, I’ve been looking for that fun again, and I’m starting to find it.
It started with a watercolor painting class in 2023. My mother and I signed up for a class at Jacoby Arts Center and spent every Saturday afternoon learning new techniques.
I had never used watercolors before (unless you count that Crayola set that every kid uses in grade school art classes). So it was a completely new experience, and my mom and I loved every week. We spent hours outside of class diligently practicing our new skills. In short, we loved it, and I started to remember how much I used to enjoy doing this.
Then, I stumbled across a new idea one day when scrolling on social media: junk journals. Basically, you take “junk” — old receipts, stickers on fruit, coffee sleeves, etc. — and, instead of throwing it away, you create a journal spread. Not only is this a new, eco-friendly way to remember what you’re up to, but it challenges you to stretch your imagination and creativity to make trash into something worth saving.
I fell in love with this immediately. The best part? It didn’t have to be perfect. It was literally trash. I could do whatever I wanted with it.
And then, my junk journal took on a new bent. I discovered that, if I combined the junk with photos, I had my own little scrapbook.
Soon, I was printing out photos left and right, gluing them into my journal alongside the receipts and old maps and magazine clippings. I was full-on collaging. It was awesome.
The coolest part was watching how the journal grew. What had started as a basic little bullet journal was now literally bursting at the seams, papers spilling out of it. It became one of my prized possessions.
I’m starting another journal now; my last one is officially filled. I can’t wait to crack the spine on my new, pristine journal and make it into its own keepsake. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s mine, and that’s what matters.
But above all, it’s been a lesson to me that I don’t have to do things perfectly to enjoy them. Especially when it comes to art, I’ve rediscovered how much I love to be creative, even if it’s a little wonky. Perfection isn’t the point. Enjoying it is.
There’s probably a lot of things in life that I could superimpose this lesson on, and I’ll look for those opportunities as I continue. But in the meantime, I’ll be watercoloring and gluing and basically just enjoying myself as I make new things. Highly recommend.
More like this:
