A MANIFESTO for Making Stronger Artists

After 30 years as an artist and educator, I've tried just about every approach for teaching drawing, painting, and design to college students. In the end, though, there are just three principles I believe are crucial to become a stronger artist...

Simple, right?

In a best-case scenario, the pieces all fit together, something like this:

Generally, to feel enchantment or passion towards their work, artists need to feel good about it. They need to be confident about their artwork and about their own abilities as a creator.

But what if those abilities are lacking? Or, what if an artist has some skills, but always seems to be working in a confused, hit-and-miss fashion?

Of course, the whole system breaks down (sad trombone sound).

The problem is, art instruction doesn't always focus on building skills or knowledge, and it's rarely systematic or well-structured. Like art itself, it can be puzzling and messy.

Sometimes this messiness provokes discomfort in students that results in meaningful learning. Sadly, though, that same discomfort can end in frustration or despair.

Programs in art schools and universities are filled with students of all artistic persuasions. In trying to serve them all, these programs can neglect skill development in favor of nurturing what students "have to say" and the meaning of their work.

Some professors even dismiss skills and technical know-how as irrelevant to being an artist today, or leave them up to students to figure out on their own.

On the other hand, private academies and atelier-style programs do teach focused skills for classical drawing, painting, or sculpture. But classical art is just a style, and not everyone wants to work in this manner.

I believe there is a middle road, a place where aspiring artists (and those who want an art school do-over) can learn essential skills in drawing, design, and other subjects in a clear and systematic way, without stylistic restrictions.

Let me be clear, though—I didn't arrive at these beliefs overnight. In fact, I struggled with the same confusion and frustration I've just described, both as a student and a professor.

Self-Portrait With Confused Look on Face

Like many artists today, I studied art in college. I worked very hard, paid a lot of money, and had my share of good and not-so-good professors. 

But even my best professors relied on the "do it over-and-over and figure it out for yourself" model of teaching (resulting in the trial-and-error model of learning). In all the years I studied art, I recall only two or three instances when a professor demonstrated a skill or technique for the class!

When I completed my master's degree in art, I didn't feel like a master. I did have some skills as an artist, but they were the result of repetitive practice—I lacked a true understanding of what I was doing.

I regretted not having more classical drawing and painting skills, even though I didn't want to make classical art.

Worse, I lacked confidence as an artist. And all the things I lacked seem to conspire against me, so that making art—something that used to fill me with joy and excitement—became something to dread.

Breaking the Cycle

In spite of this discouragement, I began teaching art to college students myself. Teaching renewed some of my passion, but it didn't take long to realize I was merely repeating the way my professors had taught, using the same figure-it-out-for-yourself approach. 

In short, I was perpetuating the cycle—preparing students to graduate with the same confusion and lack of confidence I had.

So I decided to break the cycle. Ironically, I took up the challenge to figure it out for myself and embarked on my own program of study, discovering the skills and knowledge that had eluded me.

Along the way, I began to teach what I was learning to my students, reinforcing my own understanding and gaining insight into what worked most effectively in the training of artists.

Epistecyber-wha??

In the mid-1990's I became involved with a group of researchers who were laying the groundwork for an emerging science called epistecybernetics (literally, "knowledge steering"). Though we came from different fields, we shared interests in education, systems theory, cognitive psychology, and related disciplines.

I was especially interested in research on how experts rely on well-organized structures of knowledge to perform like...well, experts.

In fact, my students often remarked on how clear and well-structured my courses were. Until that time, I thought this was just the way things should be done. I had no idea there was a whole body of research behind the idea.

To this day, students frequently mention how much they benefit from the structured, systematic approach of my courses. They welcome such structured training, I think, because they're studying visual arts, a field that is normally ill-defined.

My Own Stronger Artist

Eventually, I began developing entirely new systems for teaching figure drawing, perspective drawing, design, and other subjects. And not incidentally, I grew more confident and passionate about my own art, becoming my own stronger artist.

This website is dedicated to exploring and sharing new ideas about art and art instruction, particularly in the areas of drawing from the imagination. If you like what you've read here and want to keep up with new posts, product announcements, and free drawing resources, sign up below for Stronger Artist mailings.

It really is a simple idea, a no-brainer, even: That artists need to build skills and knowledge through structured training; that with effort and discipline, skill and know-how build confidence; and that combined, these qualities create enchantment, for both the artist and the viewers.

It doesn't matter if you want to be a classical artist or an abstract expressionist. What matters is that you want to grow stronger as an artist.