Welcome to Art Unframed. I'm Vulcan, and together
with my Cohost Kafani, we dive into the raw side
of creativity. This podcast is about art without
limits, art that questions, art that pushes back,
art that shows us who we are. Every episode,
we sit with artists from around the world to
talk about their journey, their struggles, and
the stories behind their work. It's not just
about galleries and pretty pictures. It's about
freedom, vulnerability, and the power of creating.
Welcome to Art and Friend, Season 2, Episode
4. And today, we'll be talking about the myth
of the perfect artist. You ever meet that one
artist who's got their life figured out? They've
got the perfect feed. Perfect lighting. Every
post they make look like a magazine cover shot
from Vogue. Even their messy studio looks so
curated and perfect. And then there's us. We're
just trying to find our sketchbook under a pile
of clothes, eating cold rice and wondering if
that one drawing we posted last week failed because
of the algorithm or because it just actually
sucked. welcome to the myth of the perfect artist
spoiler alert that artist doesn't exist finding
a perfect artist is just like looking for bigfoot
with an art degree hey if you find bigfoot with
an art degree do let me know you know where this
myth starts um it starts the moment someone says
wow you're so talented that's One sentence ruins
lives. You know, because before that you were
free. You just drew things that look like potatoes
and called them people. You wrote weird poetry
about moods and heartbreak. You didn't care.
Then one person said, you're good at this. And
suddenly you're no longer playing. You're performing.
Now you're the talented one. You can't make mistakes
anymore. Now every line feels like a test. You're
not creating art anymore. You're defending your
reputation. And that's how the perfect artist
is born. Not out of skill, but out of fear. You
know what's funny? The more we learn, the more
scared we become. When we didn't know anatomy,
we would draw... People with six fingers, with
so much confidence and be proud of what we did.
Now that we know human propulsion and lighting,
we are terrified of drawing anything at all.
Knowledge makes us cautious. It makes us think
before we feel. It's like dancing. When you didn't
know how to dance, we are so free. You move,
you wiggle. you're having fun but once you start
learning the steps suddenly your body freezes
and then you become stiff you're like wait does
it start with the left foot or the right foot
and then the joy is sucked out of you heart the
same way you start worrying about balance perspectives
rules and then poof the magic disappears because
basically perfection kills instinct the internet
made it worse you know if we talk about the internet
the monster under every creative bed wake up
we open instagram or x and boom someone's already
posted a masterpiece A digital oil painting that
looks like Michelangelo came back from the dead
just to flex. And you're there, zooming into
your own drawing like, hmm, this eyebrow looks
off. We used to compare our hearts to what we
made last year. Now, we compare it to 10 million
strangers in real time. And you know what? That's
not even fair. You're comparing your work in
progress to someone's highlight reel. They are
comparing your messy process to their finished
edit. It's like comparing your kitchen while
cooking to someone else's finished food photography
that is well packaged with lighting and ring
light of course. Of course the look of their
food is going to be cleaner and they've already
washed the dishes. Let's talk about their algorithms
for a second. those mysterious god of social
media that decide if you matter today you can
spend a week on a piece that means everything
to you pour your heart into it post it and then
you get nothing and then when you decide to just
sneeze to do the cat on a napkin post it as a
joke it goes viral so then you have like a million
views or 10 ,000 views or something like that
and you're just like really this and it's just
like the internet just said yeah we take the
crumbs and leave the bread that's the moment
you realize that the algorithm doesn't really
care about your art it just wants content but
you you're not a content machine you're just
a human being like you're a person So let me
tell you about one of the dumbest thing I've
ever done When I was in 200 level at uni We had
this quick approach and then I had this design
lecturer that I looked up to and he told me that
I had potential and suddenly when he kept saying
that to me it got to me when i was doing the
quick approach and then when i was drawing doing
my design like i kept i kept deliberating over
one particular drawing i stored i was shading
doing different things to that particular drawing
i was making sure i got the detail to the like
every little detail and Just then I realized
that time has gone and I was literally doing
nothing. I was shading nothing. And it was just
then that it hit me that sometimes perfection
is not about discipline, about wanting everything
to be detail -orientated, paying attention to
details. It's just the fear of, it's just our
fear, I mean, pretending to be hard work. Because
the truth is, We are not scared of making bad
art. We are scared of people seeing us make it.
That's what perfection is. It's public fear in
private clothes. You know, every artist you admire,
the greats, the geniuses, the legends, they all
live in this messy middle. That part of creation
where nothing makes sense. Where you hate everything
you're making. and you convince yourself you've
lost it you know that feeling when you start
a new piece and halfway through it looks ugly
suddenly you want to quit that's the doorway
and you know that's where our style begins you
keep going through that ugly face enough times
and eventually you start making something that
feels like you And that's not the absence of
mistake. That's our identity. Those mistakes
are our signature. They are fingerprints on our
hearts. You can't erase them without erasing
a part of yourself. You know, there's something
called an ego problem. And I think every artist
struggles with our ego. If we talk about ego
for a second. Every artist have one. Even though
we pretend we don't. We can say stuff like, I
just do it for the love of art. Really? If you
did it for the love of art, why did you refresh
your notifications 20 times today? I mean, we
crave validation. We want to be seen, heard.
We want to be appreciated. That's not bad. and
you know that's totally human our ego becomes
poison when you start deciding what you make
you know when you're not creating because it
feels right you're creating because it might
trend and then you stop taking risks you start
repeating yourself doing things because it was
successful before you suddenly become predictable
And that's when our hearts die. Not from failure,
but from the fear of failure. The real juice
of creation isn't in the final piece. It's in
the process. It's in that messy, chaotic, what
the hell am I doing stage. That's where the fun
is. That's where discoveries hide. Because...
when you're too focused on the finish line you
forget to live in the journey um every masterpiece
that you look at and say started as a masterpiece
it first started as a mess as a mistake every
great artist has a photo of disasters they will
never show everyone you don't get to skip that
part you just keep making messing making mistakes
um laughing learning and repeats just keep on
doing it over and over again it's a loop so remember
when you were a kid you didn't draw to impress
anybody you just drew it because you felt like
it i mean you could draw a cup you could draw
a car and You didn't say, I'm not good at art.
You can just be like, look, it's a cup. It's
a car. It's a dragon. And even though it looked
nothing like a dragon, you believed it. We're
so fearless. We didn't need followers or algorithms
or fancy tools. We just needed a pencil or crayons
or virus to draw different type of messages.
And somewhere, Along that line, we've lost that
kid. We've replaced curiosity with judgment.
We've started chasing approval instead of wonder.
But that kid's still there. You just have to
unmute them. One of the things that I've figured
out, you know what's funny? The older I get,
the less I know what I'm doing. the more okay
I am with that. I used to think being an artist
meant being in control. Now I realize it's about
being available. Being available to ideas, mistakes,
being available to accidents, being available
to change. And some days we are going to make
trash. Some days we are going to make gold and
most days it will be rebuilt and that's fine.
That's our heartbeat. Perfection isn't the goal.
What's really important about everything is our
presence. Being able to be there no matter what.
Being able to push forward no matter what. even
during the mess even no matter how bad it gets
how crazy it can suck so bad because when you're
truly in that moment uh uh brush moving whatever
tools we are using cameras clicking uh pencils
scratching and uh mind quiet to write or just
using our voices We don't care about being perfect.
What we care about is the truth. And that's what
people feel when they see your heart, the truth.
They don't care if your lines are off. They don't
care if the feeling is real. Sorry, I meant they
care if the feeling is real. So if you're listening
to this right now and you've been stuck and you've
been doubting your work, comparing yourself to
strangers on the internet. Take a deep breath.
You're not behind. You're just human. And humans
create in chaos. There is no perfect artist.
There's just the artist who shows up anyway.
So show up. Make the weird thing. Post the awkward
thing. Laugh even if it feels. And remember,
you don't need to be perfect to be worth something.
Because maybe, and just maybe, your imperfections
are the thing that makes your heart unforgettable.
This is Art Unframed, and I'm Vulcan. And if
your heart looks messy today, good. That just
means it's alive. Thank you for listening.