There are many many myths I used to believe about art. This was one of the worst.

I used to think good art should feel complicated. The best pieces should be large, detailed, and take lots of time to make. They should require months of planning and practice. This myth was bad for my art. Because of this mindset, I didn’t make anything for years. I thought I needed to set aside time I didn’t have in order to make something magnificent. I thought I needed to invest in complicated materials and supplies for the best end result. I thought I needed an expensive art education followed by a large studio space investment.

When I started taking advantage of little pockets of time, with the resources I had available, that’s when my art started to flourish. I would make little pieces here and there, and I saw how well my art was progressing. Finally something clicked and, just like that, I changed my mindset.

What I know now is that effort and results aren’t correlated when it comes to art. You can put as much love as you want into a piece, but it doesn’t mean it will be the best. How much training an artist has or how much money they spend on their studio space can also classify as effort. The most seemingly professional artists aren’t always the best. Many of the most famous works of art throughout history took the least amount of effort to make. Why is this?

The obvious reason I can think of is that art is subjective. While some people may be in awe of a life-sized mural, others prefer the simplicity of a smaller piece. Some of my favorite artworks are miniatures and pencil sketches - pieces that probably didn’t require much effort. Since good isn’t something we can measure, it comes down to preference. And, based on our preferences, we’re judging art as a final product. We have no idea how much effort an artist put into a piece just by looking at it. While we sometimes see process videos that impress us, it usually doesn’t change how we feel about the piece as a whole. And the piece as a whole is what matters, because that’s what we’re displaying in our homes, galleries, and museums. The process is not attached to the work itself.

The second reason I can think of is that often the best ideas are our first ideas. They’re the ones we don’t think too hard about. Where the work just flows. If we have to force an idea, it probably isn’t a good one to begin with. Some of the best pieces I’ve made are the ones where I just dove in. I felt that familiar tickle of inspiration, and I went for it. Much of art is about intuition. And effort doesn’t have anything to do with that. Our best ideas are simply the ones we feel called to pursue.

And lastly there’s spontaneity - one of the things I love most about art. While I always do a little planning before making a piece, I’m still striving for that loose feeling in my work. Overworking a piece, takes that spontaneous feeling away. When I’m making a piece, I always arrive at that point where I’m not sure if I should stop or not. When I get this feeling, it’s usually time to put my brush down. Adding more only waters down my original idea. I often regret the decision to keep working. Art is a balance between adding just enough, but not too much. There’s such a thing as putting forth too much effort.

Even though I know there’s no correlation between effort and results, this myth still sneaks up on me sometimes. If a piece feels ‘too easy’ while I’m working on it, I start to question my process. There’s a mistrust there. Shouldn’t this be more difficult? And then I remind myself, “no it shouldn’t.” Ease is a sign I’m on the right path. Art should feel easy. After all, I’m doing something I love. Suffering is not the aim of the game. So I shake off my doubts and continue onward.

Hopefully I’ve convinced you to rid this myth from your own art practice. By recognizing how false this mindset is, we can change the way we work. We have no control how I piece turns out, so we can stop blaming ourselves for work we don’t like. It’s out of our hands. Great work will always emerge from our paintbrushes once again. My hope is that we can once again enjoy the process of doing what we love. Like we did when we were kids. As a kid, I remember how much fun I had drawing something. When I was done, I would toss my picture to the side without giving it a second glance, and start a new piece. There was no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ art back then. It was all art, and it was awesome.

The ‘making of the art’ is the best part. Who cares how it turns out?