If you're a human being that exists in this world, you know what it feels like to be bad at something. Maybe that elusive person who is a genius at everything is hiding out there somewhere, but for the rest of us, the feeling of being crummy at a new skill is one we know well.
There are some things that I don't mind being bad at: I'm not ashamed of the fact that I can't make left turns; I have never managed to keep a plant alive for longer than a month; I am terrible at running and pretend to have exercise-induced asthma to explain my heaving. However, if you're a person who creates things, feeling like you're bad at it is both embarrassing and demoralizing.
When you tell people that you paint or bake or make music, the first thing they usually ask is to see what you have created. Nobody wants to show off a wonky painting or an ugly cake, and nothing is worse than the awkwardly forced compliments from a friend who doesn't know how else to respond to your creative monstrosity.
It's even worse when you consider the amount of time (and sometimes money) you have invested into a creative project that ends up being hidden away in the back of the closet. You might feel guilty for diverting energy away from 'more important' things to try something creative, just to end up being bad at it.
In summary, being a person who is drawn to create things is not fun, because most of us will suck the first few/many times we try to create something. Even though this is completely normal, we live in a culture of feeling shame at being bad at things. We idolize people who appear to be born gifted. We worship the person who is effortlessly good at their craft. We make memes out of artistic 'fails' that people earnestly post online. We shame people for being bad at things, and I wonder how many of us are held back from pursuing creative endeavours for fear of experiencing that shame when we aren't good at it.
After my online exhibition of portraits in 2020, I let painting fall to the side. Part of the reason was that, in retrospect, I was embarrassed by how terrible many of my paintings were. I wondered, 'Who did I think I was to host an exhibition of my terrible work?! Who ever let me hold a paintbrush?! Why did my family and friends allow me to go through with this??!' I let this self-criticism stop me from painting for the next two years.
By no means am I suggesting that many Picasso-level works were lost during this dark age of creative shutdown, but it is sad that a fulfilling creative pursuit was lost because I couldn't deal with being bad at painting.
I picked up my paintbrushes again this year as a part of my new year's resolution to seek out more opportunities to be creative. When I look back at the progression of my paintings, I can see that my skills have definitely improved, but more importantly, the joy I get from this form of creativity far outweighs the quality of the work that I produce. There are very few things that beat the feeling of the sun warming my back, with Fiona Apple playing in the background and my dog at my side as I mix colours together to put paint to canvas and bring a face to life.
Some of the many creative endeavours that I have been terrible at include cooking, sculpture, podcasting, digital design, website making, and arguably blogging. I'm here to tell you that it doesn't matter. Every single person is innately creative, and if we can put our shame aside, we could all find that special creative outlet that makes our souls sing. We just need to give ourselves the permission to be bad at things, and to find joy in those moments anyway.
Be bad.
Be shameless.
Have fun!
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