One of the biggest differences I’ve noticed between children and adults is the way they approach mistakes.
I’ve noticed that most children are much happier to have a go, even if it doesn’t work out the first time. They’ll grab another piece of paper, rub something out, paint over it or simply start again. They’re curious. They’re experimenting. They’re far more interested in seeing what happens than whether every line is perfect.
Somewhere along the way, though, many of us lose that confidence.
As adults, we seem to convince ourselves that mistakes are something to avoid. Maybe it’s because we’re parents and feel we should be setting the right example. Maybe we’re worried about looking silly. Or maybe we’ve simply forgotten what it feels like to learn something new. I’ve watched adults sit in front of a blank page and hesitate because they don’t want to make the first mark.
The funny thing is, the blank page is often the safest place of all. Nothing can go wrong if nothing ever begins.
I understand that feeling because I’ve experienced it myself. People often assume that because I’ve been creating art for years, I don’t make mistakes anymore. I wish that were true. I make mistakes all the time. The difference is that I don’t see them as the end of the artwork anymore.
Years ago, while I was at university, I was working on a project that simply wasn’t coming together. I was getting frustrated because nothing was working the way I wanted it to. Eventually, I covered the entire page in charcoal. Then, almost out of frustration, I started rubbing parts of it back out. Quite unexpectedly, a beautiful night scene began to emerge. It certainly wasn’t the artwork I’d planned. But it became something better because I stopped fighting the process and started responding to what was happening in front of me.
That experience has stayed with me.
These days, when I’m drawing with ink or pen, I’m very thoughtful about every line I make. But if I put down a line I don’t like, I don’t automatically think the drawing is ruined. More often than not, I’ll find a way to incorporate it into the piece. Sometimes the artwork knows where it’s going before I do.
One of the things I say regularly in class is, “The eraser is just as important a tool as the pencil.”
I think that’s true for life as well. Sometimes we need to erase. Sometimes we paint over things. Sometimes we simply adjust our direction. None of that means we’ve failed. It simply means we’re still creating.
I’ve also learnt that when I’m stuck, pushing harder rarely helps. I’ll walk away. Make a cup of tea. Read a book. Watch an episode of something. Sleep on it.
When I come back with fresh eyes, I almost always see a solution that I couldn’t see before. Art has taught me that too. Not every problem needs to be solved immediately. Sometimes the best thing you can do is give yourself permission to pause.
Looking back, many of my favourite artworks weren’t planned in detail. They happened because I was playing. Exploring materials. Watching what charcoal, ink or paint wanted to do. I usually begin with an idea, but if the artwork naturally starts moving in another direction, I don’t try to drag it back to my original plan. I go with it.
Those are often the pieces that surprise me the most.
This way of thinking is supported by educational psychologist Carol Dweck’s research on the growth mindset. Her work suggests that when we see mistakes as part of the learning process rather than as failures, we’re more likely to persevere, solve problems creatively and continue improving. I think artists have understood this for years—we just happen to learn it with a pencil or paintbrush in our hands.
Perhaps that’s why art has become much more than a hobby for me. It’s taught me patience. It’s taught me resilience. Most importantly, it’s taught me to be kinder to myself. When something doesn’t work, I no longer see it as failure. I see it as part of the process. Maybe that’s why I love helping other people create.
Not because I want them to produce perfect artwork. But because I want them to discover what happens when they stop being afraid of making the first mark.
After all…
It’s only a piece of paper.
And sometimes the best things in life begin with a mistake.