I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone say,
“I’m not creative.”
Or…
“I can’t even draw a stick figure.”
Every time I hear it, I smile to myself. Not because I’m laughing at them, but because I genuinely don’t believe it’s true. I honestly believe everyone is creative. Some people just aren’t interested in being creative.
That is the difference and that’s perfectly okay.
It’s no different to running. I don’t enjoy running. You’ll never find me training for a marathon because it simply doesn’t interest me. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t improve if I practised. It just means I’ve chosen to spend my time doing something I love instead.
I think creativity is very much the same. If you’re interested in it, have a go. You might surprise yourself. And if drawing isn’t your thing, creativity doesn’t have to look like drawing. It might be cooking. Gardening. Writing. Woodwork. Photography. Solving problems. Designing beautiful spaces. Finding clever ways to fix things.
Creativity comes in all sorts of forms. I’ve always thought creativity is about tapping into your subconscious self and leaving the door open. It’s allowing yourself to become completely absorbed in what you’re doing. To focus on one thing. To stop overthinking. To trust yourself a little more than you normally do. Almost like allowing the universe to gently guide where your hands want to go.
That probably sounds a little strange if you’ve never experienced it. But once you have, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
One of the greatest privileges of teaching is watching someone surprise themselves. I don’t keep a diary of those moments because they aren’t my stories to tell. They belong to the student. But I do notice something.
There’s a particular smile people have when they’re genuinely proud of themselves. It isn’t just a smile. It lights up their whole face. Right through to their eyes. Sometimes a student has been struggling with something for a while. Then I’ll suggest one tiny adjustment. Just one little tweak. Suddenly it clicks.
The expression on their face in that moment is priceless. I often wish I could bottle it.
People sometimes ask me whether creativity can be taught. I think it absolutely can. But there’s one thing I can’t teach. You have to give yourself permission to begin. You have to be willing to practise. To talk kindly to yourself. To understand that you won’t be brilliant on day one.
None of us are.
When I think about the students who grow the most, it usually isn’t because they’re naturally gifted. It’s because they keep showing up. They practise. They’re patient. They’re curious. They observe. They look closely. They solve problems. Most importantly, they enjoy the process.
Those things matter far more than talent ever will.
After nearly fifty years of making art, I honestly don’t know whether I was born with talent. I found my feet in Year 7 at high school when art became one of my subjects. Something clicked. I loved it. So I kept doing it.
And then I kept practising. Over the last forty-eight years, art has come and gone in different ways throughout my life. Mostly it was my escape, sometimes it’s been the place I go when life gets busy and I need to reconnect with myself. But I’ve always come back to it. Not because I had to. Because something inside me kept drawing me back. And now it is my career.
One of the biggest myths I hear is that creative people are simply born that way. Research suggests something quite different.
Educational psychologist Carol Dweck’s work on the growth mindset shows that abilities develop through effort, persistence and learning rather than being fixed traits. While people certainly have different interests and strengths, becoming skilled at something is strongly influenced by practice and the belief that improvement is possible.
That makes perfect sense to me.
I’ve watched it happen too many times to believe otherwise. So if you’ve ever caught yourself saying,
“I’m just not creative.”
Maybe try changing the sentence. Maybe say,
“I haven’t given myself permission to explore my creativity yet.”
There’s a big difference. Because starting something new only takes one step.
Once you start walking…
it gets easier.