Tag / art

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

Judgement is the enemy of creativity

We kill most of our great, wonderful, creative ideas before they’re ever born.

We write them off, dismiss them out of hand, smother them…

But we can’t know if our ideas are good—if they’ll work or cause the change we seek to make in the world—until we publish them.

Only by letting our ideas engage with the market, the world, or our audience can we know if it’s good.

If you judge every idea before you try it out, you’ll never be creative.

Subscribe!

by Nathan Coumbe

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly

You’ve been told your entire life you should do things well.

Perfectly.

Like an expert.

And if you can’t do it well, you might as well not even bother to do it at all.

That’s wrong. You can’t instantly be great at doing ANYTHING.

The only place to start is at the level we currently are.

The always relevant, and sometimes irreverent, Zig Ziglar said one of my favorite quotes of all time:

“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly.”

What did he mean?

Simple: anything worthwhile requires that we start as a beginner.

Golfing, tennis, writing, painting, jazz improv… It doesn’t matter what it is.

If it’s worth pursuing, you owe it to yourself to be bad at it. And then get better at it every single day.

He uses the example of someone learning to play golf: if everyone could join the PGA Masters tour after a couple of lessons with the local pro, there’s no reason to do it.

Give yourself time to do things badly…

On the way to doing them well.

Subscribe

by Nathan Coumbe

A childish sense of wonder

We have completely lost our sense of wonder. Everyone’s in such a hurry that we can’t take the time to appreciate the little things that surround us.

I was out for my daily Artist’s walk and passed a mom and her child. The child was taking tiny steps left and right into the grass, off the path, fascinated by every little thing that he saw. 

Meanwhile the dad was snapping impatiently at the son and the wife: “Hurry up, move faster! Come on, let’s go, let’s get out of here!” 

I was so pleased to see mom stand up for her little boy. She said, “But Daddy, there’s so much to see!“ There was, and he was adamant about exploring every bit of it.

  • What if we could once again find fulfillment from the grass between our toes?
  • How much nicer would life be if a special pinecone fascinated us?
  • Remember that feeling of finding an unusual leaf and wanting nothing more than to stick it in your pocket and take it home?

We could all use a little bit more of that childish wonder in our lives.

by Nathan Coumbe

Artists Pay Attention. Are You an Artist?

What does an artist do? What makes her an artist? It’s simple: she pays attention.

I think I’ve been overwhelming myself with ideas, people, information, podcasts, audiobooks— too many different inputs to count. If we want to be creative, we have to shut out the noise, turn off the devices, and start paying attention to the world around us.

Paying attention might be something as simple as going for a walk outside. Head to the park, and be fully present in the moment. 

Paying attention means smiling at the people that walk past you and watching their entire demeanor change. They walk a little taller; they smile back; they pick up their pace. A smile generates energy.

Pay attention when you walk past two women speaking to each other in Spanish. What happens when you say in their native tongue, “Hello! How are you?” They chuckle, both pleased with your willingness to try and humored by your pained accent. 

Paying attention is noticing the difference in sound a few dozen yards can make. One side of a park is dead quiet, while the other—less than a football field’s length away and located close to a busy road—is roaring with the cacophony of motorcycles and sports cars. 

When you pay attention over a few weeks’ time, you notice the subtle change in attire worn by those walking around you as social and health issues become more prevalent. 

Perhaps you’ll notice two small children, obviously strangers and of wildly different cultures, run towards each other on the playground to touch hands, embrace, and play together as if they weren’t the least bit different. Afterwards, you might realize that it’s all invented, the differences we’ve created that cause such terrible strife in our world. 

If you listen closely, you’ll notice the gurgling, deep-throated rumbling of a large vehicle puttering past behind you. You’ll hear the sounds of leaves underfoot and voices across the fence. 

So this is what it’s like to pay attention. This is what we miss with our headphones in and our phones out, heads down and eyes fixed, always distracted and never present. 

We miss the face of a Star Wars alien created by a fortuitous arrangement of knots on a pine tree. 

We miss the sheer exuberance of a child as she first lays eyes on the playground and sprints past. We miss her zigging and zagging and the father’s apology for her child’s excitement. Why does Dad feels guilty? Why should he apologize for his child doing exactly what a child should do?

This is what we miss when we fail to pay attention.

Never miss an update. Subscribe below!

by Nathan Coumbe

We Are Our Own Worst Critics

Artists tend to have little faith in themselves or their work. They prejudge, rewrite, and scrap work without ever letting the work just “be.” 

We don’t feel it’s good enough, so we don’t hit “Publish” or “Post”. We fail to contact that company or that prospective client with a work proposal because we don’t feel we are good enough to get the job. 

I’ll let you in on a little secret:

Your work isn’t good enough.

It isn’t good enough by your own definition of “good enough to ship,” which in all likelihood is actually the definition of “perfect.” It’s not good enough for your impossibly high standards. 

That doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It might even be great. 

If your definition of “good enough” is actually “perfect,” you will fail. Nothing you ever make will be perfect. Nothing will ever be “finished” with that mindset. 

Ship your work anyway. 

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

–Leonardo da Vinci

It is when we decide to abandon our work that it’s good enough to ship. Some work will be better than others; some days you will struggle.

But you are an artist, and artists create.

You will never feel that what you produce is good enough. It’s called “The Resistance”. Your amygdala – the “fight or flight” part of your brain – is telling you to run and hide to avoid being criticized or judged. 

It is wrong. Don’t listen to it. Ship your work anyway. Don’t procrastinate because you don’t think it’s perfect (it never will be). 

Don’t let the definition of “perfection” become your definition of “good enough.” That way leads only to frustration and regret. 

Want more inspiration to embrace your creativity? Subscribe below!

Note: occasionally I include affiliate links for products that have helped me along the way. I receive a small commission from the affiliate on any purchase you might make. You do not pay anything extra for this.

by Nathan Coumbe

Artist-of-All-Arts

I don’t think I’ve ever met a single artist who was not a jack-of-all-trades in the arts and humanities–an “artist-of-all-arts” if you will.

It seems every artist is not only attracted to multiple forms of art but develops skill in multiple areas as well.

My late friend Michael McNally was a brilliant cellist and a gifted, passionate actor. My friend Lindsey is a skilled artist, photographer, designer, and also a singer with a beautiful voice. (You can see some of her work here and here.) Another friend of mine, Alden, is one of the best photographers I know as well as a talented artist and connoisseur of music.

It seems to me that anyone attracted to the arts and humanities is attracted to all of them. It’s as if once the right brain is fully engaged, it looks for beauty everywhere. 

Such is the life of an artist, and why, I suppose we can seem to others to be so scattered in our work and interests–and perhaps feel that way about ourselves. 

An artist is a lover of beauty no matter its form, so we chase it everywhere.

What about you? What forms of art are you attracted to or skilled in? Let me know in comments below!

Want more inspiration to pursue your creativity? Subscribe below!

by Nathan Coumbe

Art and plumbing are more similar than you think

Zig Ziglar relates a story in one of his talks about a man traveling through Native American tribes early in the 20th Century. What the man discovered was not a single person he encountered in those tribes stuttered. 

This phenomenon fascinated him, but he could never find a reason why. Finally, he asked one of the elders in the tribe why this was so. The elder informed the man there was no word in their native language for “stutter.” 

No label, no problem. 

In a fantastic article in The New Yorker, the author writes about the phenomenon known as “writer’s block.” What’s most interesting is this problem is not world-wide. The idea did not penetrate Europe until the 1800s, and even today, most Europeans don’t know what it is. It seems to be almost strictly an American issue. 

No label, no problem. If you don’t have a way to identify something as a problem, it can’t be a problem. 

We are all creative at something. We don’t get blocked: we get scared that what we create isn’t good enough. We feel there is some ethereal muse that must speak to us before we can make anything worthwhile. 

That’s crap.

Seth Godin has, what I believe to be, the most profound podcast episode I’ve ever listened to called “No such thing (as writer’s block).” One of my favorite sayings in the episode is this: “plumbers don’t get plumber’s block.” No plumber says he’s feeling too overwhelmed or uncreative enough to fix a pipe. They just fix the pipe. Surgeons don’t wait until they hear the muse speak to them to operate – they practice their craft every day and perform when it’s time to perform. 

Your art, whether it’s writing, music, painting, communicating, or leading people, is a craft – it’s a trade! Like blacksmithing, welding, or some other trade, it’s something that you learn, practice each day, and use to make something. 

If you’re a writer – write! Every day. Write something. Set a timer for 30 minutes and write. If you can’t think of what to write, write “I can’t think of anything to write,” over and over again until a new thought pops into your head. When that thought pops into your head, write it down too. Don’t worry about it making sense, being fantastic, or winning a literary prize. Just write. 

Insert your own art into the statement above and adapt it to your own situation. 

You aren’t blocked – you’re scared. Don’t wait for the muse. Do your work. 

It’s a trade like any other. 

Join 904 other subscribers

by Nathan Coumbe

How much is enough?

I asked myself this question a few days ago and elaborated on it in my journal. Specifically, I was asking myself, “How much money do I need to make to feel like I am making enough?”

Honestly, making more money right now would not bring me any more happiness. It’s not money that my conscience is crying out to gain: it is meaning, purpose, the ability to use my God-given talents and strengths to serve and help other people.

The income I make now is actually more than enough to satisfy my needs at this moment. So why am I not doing something that fills my cup?

Have you ever asked yourself what enough is? If you made $40,000 a year, could you live on that if it meant you were doing something you cared about so much and so thoroughly enjoyed you couldn’t dream of doing anything else?

My answer is yes. Yours may be different. At a certain point, making more money is just making more money. Studies tend to cap the increase in happiness that comes from money at about $75,000.

So what goal, idea, or passion is the quest for more money preventing you from pursuing?

Are you, perhaps, an artist who wants to paint? A musician who wants to play and teach? Or are you, like me, a teacher who simply wants to teach?

Ask yourself this question: could you, honestly, make a living knowing the starting or average income that job in your head receives? Could you survive, or even thrive, if it meant you were doing what you felt passionately called to do?

The irony is most of the time when you quit pursuing money and start pursuing passion in the service of others, more money than you imagined comes into your life.

How much is enough? Could you make it doing what you love?

Join 904 other subscribers
by Nathan Coumbe

Perfection is the problem

If you are an artist – a person who seeks to create beneficial change in the world – you are probably a perfectionist.

This is why you never hit “publish” on your blog, why you don’t post your photos on Instagram, or why your songs aren’t on YouTube and SoundCloud. It isn’t because the work you did is bad: it’s because you think if you do just a little bit more to it, it will be perfect.

You’ll never get there.

“An artist’s job is not to be perfect, but to [always] be creating.” – Jeff Goins

The more you create, the more practice you get. You’ll hit that 10,000 hour mark we’ve all heard about. The more practice you get, the better your work will be.

Create something today.

Ship it – today.

Repeat tomorrow.

Don’t miss a post! Subscribe below to get the latest insights sent directly to your inbox.

Join 904 other subscribers