(Even If It Sucks)
On imperfect beginnings, creative courage + the beautiful mess of making something out of nothing.
I've been thinking a lot lately about starting.
Not finishing. Not succeeding. Not creating something incredible that makes everyone stop scrolling and say, "Wow, look at that."
Just starting.
Because somewhere along the way, I think a lot of us got it into our heads that we need to know exactly what we're doing before we're allowed to do it.
We need the right tools. The right space. The right idea. The right timing. We need to feel inspired, confident, prepared, and preferably have some kind of foolproof plan that guarantees the thing we're about to make won't completely suck.
And you know what?
That's a lot of pressure to put on something that hasn't even had the chance to exist yet.
The Myth of the Perfect Moment
Here's something I'm learning, over and over again:
The perfect moment to create something probably doesn't exist.
There's always going to be something.
A busy schedule. An unfinished project. A messy house. A bad day. A lack of inspiration. That nagging little voice reminding you that someone else is already doing what you want to do, and they're probably doing it better.
It's easy to convince yourself that you'll start when things settle down.
When you have more time.
When you're better at it.
When you're ready.
But what if being ready isn't something that happens before you begin?
What if it's something you become by beginning?
I've spent enough time creating things to know that some of my favorite ideas didn't start as particularly good ones. They started as scribbles, mistakes, experiments, or random thoughts that I almost dismissed.
And some of them turned into something I loved.
Others? Complete disasters.
But even the disasters taught me something.
Make the Bad Art
I think we need to give ourselves permission to make more bad art.
Not everything needs to be a masterpiece. Not everything needs to become a product, a portfolio piece, a social media post, or proof that we're talented enough to call ourselves artists.
Sometimes you just need to make something because you feel like making something.
Sometimes you need to fill a page with terrible sketches, paint something ugly, write a paragraph that makes absolutely no sense, or spend an afternoon working on an idea that goes nowhere.
And that's okay.
Actually, I think it's necessary.
Creativity isn't always this magical moment where inspiration strikes and something beautiful effortlessly pours out of you.
Sometimes it's awkward. Frustrating. Uncomfortable.
Sometimes you have absolutely no idea what you're making until you're halfway through making it.
And sometimes the thing you create really does suck.
Make it anyway.
Because the act of creating is valuable even when the result isn't what you hoped for.
Creating to Discover
One of the reasons I started my Creative Cleanse sketchbook project was to reconnect with the process of making art without putting so much pressure on the outcome.
Eighty pages. Eighty opportunities to show up, experiment, make mistakes + see what happens.
Some pages come together easily. Others feel like pulling teeth.
But that's kind of the point.
I'm not trying to prove anything with every page. I'm trying to remind myself what it feels like to create without needing to know where I'm going.
And the more I do it, the more I realize that creativity isn't always about having a vision and bringing it to life.
Sometimes it's about creating something so you can discover what the vision is.
You don't always think your way into an idea.
Sometimes you have to make your way there.
You Don't Have to Be Good at Something to Love It
This one feels important.
Especially in a world where everything seems to become a competition, a side hustle, a brand, or content.
You are allowed to enjoy something without being exceptional at it.
You're allowed to paint badly. Write terrible poetry. Take blurry photographs. Make crooked pottery. Start a project you never finish.
You're allowed to be a beginner.
You're allowed to make things that nobody else ever sees.
You're even allowed to create something that serves absolutely no purpose other than making you happy for an afternoon.
Imagine that.
Doing something simply because you enjoy doing it.
No expectations. No performance. No need to justify the time you spent.
Just you + the beautiful, messy experience of making something.
So, Start Where You Are
If there's something you've been wanting to create, consider this your invitation to stop waiting.
Use the supplies you already have.
Work with the time you can find.
Start with the half-formed idea that keeps floating around in your head.
Make the first sketch. Write the first sentence. Cut the first piece of paper. Take the first photograph.
It doesn't have to be good.
It doesn't have to make sense.
It doesn't have to become anything.
It just has to begin.
And maybe that's what I want this little corner of the internet to be about.
A place to explore the creative process, share the stories behind my work, talk about the complicated experience of being human + remind myself (and maybe you, too) that we're allowed to figure things out as we go.
I'm calling it The Studio Journal.
I don't know exactly what it will become.
And for once, I'm trying to be okay with that.
Because I think the most interesting things happen when we stop waiting for permission, perfection, or certainty and just start making something.
Even if it sucks.
Especially if it sucks.
With love,
Kelly
P.S. If you've been waiting for a sign to start that thing you've been thinking about, this is it. Go make something.
A Little Creative Nudge
Set a timer for ten minutes. Grab whatever supplies you have nearby + make something without planning it first. No erasing. No starting over. No worrying about whether it's good.
When the timer goes off, you're done.
You made something that didn't exist ten minutes ago. That's enough.
