The Art of Sucking at Stuff

Why failing miserably at watercolor might be the best thing I’ve done in years

Hi friends, Colette here.

I’m not sure why I expected to be good at watercoloring on my first try. Call it ego or ignorance - That doesn’t look too hard - well, it was. So I gave up. I tried to take a class but painting leaves are a real bitch, and after much practice, they still looked like green blobs that got into a bar fight. For years, I have wandered in and out of art stores, as if buying the supplies somehow magically infused me with brilliance. It didn’t. But the urge to create art never ceased.

About a month ago, I decided to take over our dining room table. We hardly use it anyway and it was becoming a catch-all for random clutter. I unboxed my art supplies and set up a painting station. At first, it collected dust, taunting me to sit and play. I rearranged it multiple times, which generated a feeling of progress in my procrastination. I took time collecting ideas. Since I have been avoiding scrolling on Instagram, I have substituted my urge by scrolling on Pinterest. Inspiration accomplished! Tutorial after tutorial, I gathered the data and gumption to begin. That first time at the table was rough. Too much water, not enough water, clumsy hands, another page ruined. Watched more tutorials. Repeat. I’m not sure where I lost the ability to suck. I think I may have misplaced it between swinging on the monkey bars and getting my first checkbook.

When I was first learning to ski, I was a freshman in high school and the stakes were high to look cool. I was nothing but. As 7-year-olds rolled by at Olympic speeds, I was barely able to keep my skis in the snowplow position. I remember my instructor telling me that kids catch on quicker because they lack the fear older people have. I was not encouraged as the ledge to exit the ski lift was fast approaching. I fell, of course. I fell a lot when I first learned to ski. But then, I didn’t. Eventually, falls only occurred when I was doing something stupid or trying a bigger jump. After a decade of not skiing, I went up to Mt. Hood with a friend. As my feet squeezed into the dense padding of my ski boot, it felt like reconnecting with a part of me that got lost. I was wobbly and awkward, taking to the bunny hill at first, but it came back: the fear and the fun. I’m beginning to realize how good it is for my soul to suck at something. I mean, really be bad at something (I’m also going to mention here that my husband and I bought a pickleball set).

Children have an innate ability to try something new, suck at it, but keep trying. Adults, we have to regain the muscles of failure because we have grown weak from giving up. Sure, much of our efforts have been poured into our careers, families, and being financially stable. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about play and art, and adventure. I’m talking about what keeps us alive, I mean, really living; whether that’s skiing down a mountain at a snowplow’s pace or painting with a clumsy hand. If anything comes from experiencing mid-life, I want it to be this: I learned how to play again.

Here’s a little evolution of my sucking at watercolor for your sheer entertainment.

Took a class online and was ready to crush it.

Didn’t crush it. Have I mentioned leaves are a bitch yet?

New inspiration came as quickly as it went. Can you tell where I gave up? I’m also not sure why I felt compelled to sign this masterpiece.

More leaves. Some less shitty than others. Also, I started taking notes.

Tip: Black marker fixes a lot of mistakes.

The piece I am most proud of and also most afraid of ruining. I used painters tape to section off the flowers but now I have white space I’m not sure what to do with.

Regression: The paint went rogue. Then I ended up painting one huge, hideous leaf which I attempted to cover up with acrylic paint. Can you spot my giant leaf?

I’m not about to tell you - don’t give up, pursue your dreams! - I’m not talking about resilience. I still suck at painting and I may never be as good as my inner critic wants me to be. But she can just shut her mouth because I am loving every stroke of the brush and that’s what matters. What I am saying is try that thing - you know what it is - and try it badly. Learn to love the failure, play with the mistakes, flip the page over, and try again. As adults, our margin for error grows uncomfortably small. We keep a tight rein on our finances, endure annual work evals, and try to avoid speed traps with high fines. But here, in this space of art and play, the margin for error is vast, forgiving, and the chances to try again are endless. Here we get to play with incompetence and strengthen our fear muscles. Here we practice being free from judgement and expectations. We get to laugh at ourselves while we create mediocre art or creep down the side of a mountain. This is the place where we get to enjoy just doing the thing without making it into a big thing.

Love the suck, my friends and let the paint do what it wants.

Peace and every good,