Category / art

by Nathan Coumbe

Copy the masters

If you want to improve your drumming, copy musical phrases from masters like Elvin Jones or Tony Williams.

If you want to learn a new style of art, copy the sketches and brush strokes of da Vinci and Van Gogh.

If you want to  become a world-class copywriter, copy the best, most successful ads from people like David Ogilvy or Claude Hopkins.

From medieval apprenticeship practices to their modern-day equivalents in universities and 1-on-1 mentorships, the best creatives know you must first start by copying the masters. 

You learn the fundamentals of most everything first by imitation. Only then can you add your own touch to create something wholly your own.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Marketable skills

The Music School at University of North Texas has a list of what they call “marketable” skills that each of their degree plans develop. Skills include:

  • Performance communication
  • Excellent memory capability
  • Command of music computer programs
  • Pattern understanding
  • Improvisation and analytical capabilities

Now, as a former full-time musician myself and current corporate employee, I can safely say…

No one has ever paid me for any of this. Which is the supposed to be the definition of “marketable skills”—things worth paying for.

If you take Seth Godin’s definition of marketing to heart (which I do), then marketing means creating change in another person. And to take it a step further, it means creating a change in them that also prompts them to “pay” for your skills in some way.

You will then see that none of those skills do anything like that. However, they may give you the ability to accomplish that goal.

Those skills might allow you to:

  • Move another person so deeply that they become a raving fan of your music
  • Leave someone in awe of your stage presence and artistry (so they’ll come to more concerts and buy your albums)
  • Create a piece of music so astounding that someone tells 10 of their friends (and they tell 10 more…and on and on it goes)
  • Hypnotize an audience with intricate rhythms and on-the-spot creations so outrageous they beg to “know the trick”

All of these outcomes from your skill development lead to similar results: obsessed fans who tell other people and support your art because they can’t live without you.

The skills aren’t marketable.

But what you create with them and put into the world is.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Art hardens you against feedback

I spent years of my life being criticized (often brutally) by teachers and peers during my time as a musician.

It hurt—a lot. For a while, anyway.

Eventually you realize something:

It’s not about you. It’s about the work.

Even when the comments seem personal or exceedingly harsh.

You realize there’s this other thing you’re trying to bring into the world (in my case, a piece of music). And there are ways to do it that are creative and wonderful… And ways to do it that are just plain wrong.

At some point, the musician realizes that the people they’re making art with all have the same goal: to bring to life a beautiful piece of music in the way it needs to be.

And when you’re all working toward that shared goal, it makes the feedback easier to bear. You learn to separate the self from the art.

It’s not about you—it’s about the work.

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by Nathan Coumbe

We need the dreamers

A friend of mine wrote to me the other day telling me that my “realistic views” helped to balance out her “daydreaming” ideas. 

But we need the dreamers. 

Without them, nothing changes. Nothing improves. 

No new ideas means the world never gets safer, cleaner, healthier, or more just.

Without the imagination, suppositions, and oulandishness of some humans, we stagnate. 

Sure, we also (sometimes) need the realists and the doers to make the dreams come true. 

But without the people who are willing to say, “Is this anything?”, the rest of us have nothing to work with.

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by Nathan Coumbe

I don’t like the word “talent”

“Talent” is something you’re born with… It’s innate, unchanging, and implies that if you don’t already have it, you never will.

“Skill” is a more accurate term. Skills can be learned, and most everything we consider to be talents are actually skills.

  • Musical abilities
  • Public speaking
  • Leadership
  • Writing
  • Painting
  • Inventing
  • Salesmanship
  • Teaching

People aren’t born to do these things. They try them out and persevere through the poor quality and failed early efforts until they get better.

Calling a musician “talented” might actually be an insult. Why?

Because it dismisses all the hard work they put in to develop the skill of musicianship.

by Nathan Coumbe

Forgetting to enjoy music

Have you ever gone a really long time without listening to music?

Doing it again almost seems like a chore until you start listening. At that point, it becomes the most pleasurable activity imaginable. 

When you’re studying music professionally, it all becomes so clinical you forget how to enjoy it. 

It’s like studying the human body for medicine and somehow losing the ability to appreciate its beauty. Instead, you see chemical reactions, a skeletal structure, and an organ meant for feeding. 

Studying music can have the same effect. Only when I stepped away from it for a while did I learn to enjoy it again.

by Nathan Coumbe

Improvement is ugly

One of my favorite quotes from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way is this:

“It is impossible to get better and look good a the same time.”

Often, how we think others view us stands in the way of making progress. 

If we’re worried about what others think, we’ll pretend to have expertise we don’t—and often make ourselves the fool we were so worried of being. 

Or we’ll fall to braggadocio instead of humility when faced with someone who can actually help us improve.

She continues:

“Give yourself permission to be a beginner. By being willing to be a bad artist, you have a chance to be an artist, and perhaps, over time, a very good one.”

Keep a beginner’s mind as much as possible. You’ll go much farther and faster if you do.

by Nathan Coumbe

Artists & fly fishing

Seth Godin has a short chapter in his book The Practice on his experience learning to fly fish. 

At the retreat, he specifically requested that he not have a hook attached to his rod so he could focus instead on the practice of casting perfectly. 

Without the hook (and therefore without any chance of catching anything), there was no way he could obsess over the outcome. He was focused on the process when everybody else was focused on catching a fish.

The result—he learned how to cast perfectly and mastered fly fishing. His friends obsessed over making a catch and failed to develop the necessary skills.

This is how artists must work. They must focus on the process, not the outcome. They must create and ship work on a regular basis without worrying about whether or not this project will be “the one.”

Process, not outcome. That’s where we need to redirect our focus.

If we don’t set out to create a masterpiece, it’s much more likely we’ll make one in the end.

(A personal aside: I realized after reading this passage that my dad was an artist in the same way. He loved fishing and genuinely did not care if he caught a fish or not in the process. He was totally at peace on a boat or pier casting and reeling, over and over. He had the mindset and demeanor of a true artist.)

by Nathan Coumbe

Start with a rough draft

It’s much easier to make your work better if you have something to work with.

You can’t edit your blog post if you haven’t written it yet.

You can’t make your new song swing if you don’t record the demo.

You can’t grow your business if you don’t start by landing one paying customer.

Trying to make things perfect before you put the work down on paper is futile.

Get the rough draft finished. Then go back and make it better.

by Nathan Coumbe

Rockstars are rare (and they probably aren’t you)

The idea of being a “rockstar” is a relatively new phenomenon. Flying around in a jet, playing music in packed out stadiums for millions of dollars a year—that really only started in the 1960s. 

For most of human history, artists created simply to create. They weren’t seeking fame or fortune. The cavemen who painted the walls at Lascaux didn’t get paid for it…

As time went by, certain arts became trades—skills performed in exchange for money or goods. 

J.S. Bach was a musician, a brilliant and talented one at that. But he was a musician because his father was a musician. He went into the family business. 

Leonardo da Vinci—magnificent genius though he was—was a tradesman. He was NOT our idea of a superstar artist.

These artists were creating to create. It was their day job, but it was also what they wanted to do.

I think the “Rockstar Era” warped our understanding of what being an artist is like for most people… And what it’s supposed to be about.

And that same “Rockstar Era” has fast come to an end. It’s harder and harder for someone to become Taylor Swift or Ye. There was a window to make that happen, and it looks like it’s over. 

There will always be outliers—the artist who sells 10 million records or the TikTok influencer with 1 billion followers.

But it probably won’t happen to you. 

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t create art. It just means you need to focus your efforts on the act of creation and on service, rather than seeking fame and fortune.