Sketchbook page on a dark brown desk, open to a watercolor painting of 2 cake slices against a background of leaves and grass. The paper is damaged in places, and the colors are faded and washed out.

Safe to Say

I’m teaching a watercolor class at a local nursing home right now. Every week we ask the group for one word to describe either how the class went, or how they’re feeling at the end. This week, someone said, “Satisfying.” Another said, “Grateful.”

And one woman—who had painted enthusiastically and been part of the conversation for the entire class—said, “Sad, because I can’t do what I used to. If you saw me years ago, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s nothing to do with the class, it’s me… but that’s why I’m saying ‘sad.’”

 

Making art brings up lots of feelings, about the art and about ourselves. Over the last few years teaching workshops, I’ve heard plenty of comments like:

  • “I’m terrible at this.”
  • “Watercolor isn’t for me.”
  • “I hate my handwriting.”
  • “Hers looks way better.”
  • “I don’t like how this turned out.”

 

To me, negative comments matter just as much as the positive ones.

Reason #1: Trying something new can be scary and extremely humbling. Needing reassurance in the moment is human! 

Reason #2: Your speaking up lets me know if something is wrong. Sometimes it's a mobility issue. Sometimes a technique needs explaining a different way. I ask follow-up questions to get more information, and then we find a new approach together.

Reason #3: Women are often taught to fawn by smiling when they’re uncomfortable, agreeing with others to avoid criticism, and making sure the person in charge gets to save face. Being able to identify your feelings + speak up is a HUGE deal!

 

People don't share their honest thoughts if they don't feel safe. Here are some ways I've tried to make Signed Cricket workshops feel safer.

  • Your feedback on the lesson pace, the explanations, even the venue lighting + air conditioning, is taken seriously. Every feedback form is anonymous.
  • You are never in competition with anyone else. 
  • You are never expected to recreate my calligraphy style or example painting. In fact, I encourage you to swap out colors or letters to make your project feel more like you!
  • You are never expected to leave class in love with the art medium and ready to buy all the supplies. It can just be an one-time thing!
  • You are encouraged to feel any feelings that come up, whether you choose to share details or keep them private. 

If you're interested in trying watercolor or calligraphy with me, you can explore upcoming workshop options here.

 

And if this finds you making art at your own kitchen table: Take this as permission to be honest (but also gentle!) with yourself. I could write a whole other post about that… maybe I will. In the meantime, I hope you keep being creative and noticing what happens in the process 💛

 


P.S. Here’s a sketchbook page that frustrated me to no end. I kept it to remind me I tried, and maybe someday it’ll be resurrected into a collage!

Sketchbook page on a dark brown desk, open to a watercolor painting of 2 cake slices against a background of leaves and grass. The paper is damaged in places, and the colors are faded and washed out.

 

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