Miss Daisy Drawing

Tag: writing

  • How to Find Your Artistic Theme and Your Path in Life

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    In my previous passages, I wrote about how to find your art style and medium. Today, I want to go a little deeper: How do you find your artistic theme — and even your path in life?

    Have you ever had this experience? You pick up your pencils, watercolor whatever the medium is, ready to draw, and suddenly… you don’t know what to draw. You scroll through tons of reference pictures online, but then you start doubting yourself:

    “This looks way too complicated… let me find another one.” “How am I supposed to draw this?”After searching for so long, you still can’t bring yourself to start, and eventually you just give up.  Over time, your love for drawing — maybe even your talent — gets lost in hesitation and confusion.  Sporadic sketches can’t form a real portfolio, and because you don’t see obvious progress, you start to label yourself: “Maybe I’m just not talented.” And slowly, drawing gets pushed into the corner of your life and forgotten.Years later, when you look at other people’s artwork, you’ll remember how much you once loved drawing — and regret that you didn’t stick with it.

    If this sounds familiar, today I want to share a few ways to help you discover your own creative theme.

    Why we get lost — in drawing and in life

    Feeling lost in art is actually the same as feeling lost in life. And most people will experience it.

    From early art classes, we were trained to wait for the teacher to give us a topic, and then we complete the task. Over time, this becomes a habit: Without someone assigning the theme, we don’t know what to draw.

    And it’s not just art — our whole education system is built on “ready-made questions + one correct answer.” Through elementary, middle, and high school, everything follows a fixed path. But once we leave school, we suddenly stand in front of a huge blank space. We don’t know our direction, what we like, or where to go next. We look for a “stable destination,” but forget that:

    Life has never been stable. Those so-called “stable places” are often just cages inside a much larger system. So whether it’s a blank canvas or a blank future, we need to learn to ask ourselves: What do I want to draw? How do I want to express myself? What kind of life do I want? And what steps will take me closer to it?

    So how do you find your artistic theme?

    1. When you don’t know what to draw, look back at what you’ve already created — without guidance, tasks, or expectations.

    Look at the works you made simply because you wanted to — not homework, not assignments, not tasks given by others. Whether it’s ten pieces or a hundred, you’ll start to notice patterns: You’ve already been drawing similar things again and again.

    Maybe it’s portraits, beautiful faces, outfits you love, bright flowers, plants of all kinds, bustling city lights, or pieces from your daily life. These pieces are messages from your subconscious. They reveal what truly moves you. And if you think about it, those themes can even hint at what kind of career you might want.

    I studied management in university back then, not art. Near graduation, I was extremely lost, until I asked a retired mentor for advice. She told me, “If you don’t know what you want to do, think about what you loved as a child.”

    I realized I loved drawing and making things with my hands. So I gradually picked up art again. After working for few years, I returned to school, earned a master’s degree in Fine Art, and turned my passion into my career.

    2. Record your life — especially the things you care about

    There will always be something in life that touches you. Some people love clothing and styling. Some love cars, machines, and industrial aesthetics. Some love traveling and exploring cultures. Some love the atmosphere of local markets. Some love movie characters and cinematic worlds.

    Write them down. Photograph them. The things that appear repeatedly in your words or photos — that’s your creative theme. Drawing, writing, and music all ask the same question: “What moved me today?”

    When you keep creating based on what moves you, your work will naturally form a system, your style will gradually appear, and eventually — your voice emerges.

    3. Don’t be afraid of trial and error, and don’t rush to define your theme

    Your creative theme isn’t something you suddenly decide one day. And it will not stay the same forever. People grow. Experiences accumulate. And your theme evolves with you — that’s the normal state of life. Sometimes we set goals that are too big or too rigid. When we can’t reach them, we begin to doubt ourselves. But the truth is: Change is the only constant.

    Your artistic theme will shift as you grow, because you are constantly changing. Maybe when you’re young you love city lights and new experiences. Later, you may prefer quiet, solitude, and deeper, more abstract expression.

    No one discovers their theme or ideal life in an instant. When we see others succeed, we forget that the moment we see is often the result of decades of preparation. As the saying goes: “One minute on stage takes ten years of work off stage.”

    Your theme — and your ideal life — will slowly reveal themselves. through creating, experiencing, exploring, and making mistakes.

    To summarize — how to find your creative theme

    1. Look back at your past unassigned creations — your subconscious has already given you clues. 2. Record the things you care about — start with what repeats and what you’re good at.  3. Accept that change is normal — don’t judge yourself for shifting interests; explore boldly and embrace change.

    I’m Daisy, someone who loves art and loves sharing it. If you enjoyed this kind of content, feel free to like, follow, and leave a comment. And you’re welcome to share your thoughts about art below. 🎨✨

  • Why Artists Must Stay True to Themselves?

    I’ve always loved creating content that sparks inspiration and deeper thinking. For a long time, I kept asking myself one question: Why must artists stay true to who they are?

    And it wasn’t until I watched Chinese American figure skater Alysa Liu perform at the Winter Olympics—and learned more about her journey—that I found the answer again: artists have to be themselves.

    At 14, she became the youngest women’s singles champion in the history of the U.S. National Championships. In 2020, she won again—two consecutive titles. And in 2022, right after finishing her Olympic dream, she suddenly announced her retirement at just 16. Probably the youngest person to retire in history.
    Her reason? She wanted a completely different life.

    After stepping away from skating, she went to college, attended concerts, got her driver’s license, took road trips, and enjoyed her first real vacation. She tried skiing, snowboarding—things she never had the chance to experience during years of intense training. During this unexpected “pause,” she rediscovered her true passions: “I love art. I love dancing. I love music. I love sports. Figure skating is the combination of all of them.” She said. 

    When she returned to the ice, the first thing she did was “fire” her father from supervising her training. She told her team she would choose her own costumes and pick her own music. Her Olympic performance wasn’t just a showcase of techniques—it was a living, breathing soul expressing her love for skating, for art, and for life itself.

    That is the essence of art, music, and sports: Technique is the form. Emotion is the soul.

    Why is it so hard for many people to “be themselves”?

    Modern education plays a huge role in this process. Modern education was built in the industrial age to create standardized workers—punctual, obedient, easy to instruct, and easy to replace. From childhood, we’re told to fit in, behave, avoid trouble, and follow the rules. In essence, it’s a system of discipline.

    When someone lacks autonomy and simply follows instructions—studying because they’re told to study, working because they must work—they become like a machine.

    Before Alysa Liu’s break, Alysa trained because she had to train. Just like many of us go to school because we’re told to, or study just to work.

    We rarely stop to ask: What do these things actually mean to me?

    And without inner motivation, true creation becomes extremely difficult. In art—or any field that requires imagination and expression—if your soul isn’t present, your work becomes empty, blurry, and powerless.

    The artists remembered throughout history were never “normal.”

    From Vincent van Gogh, Paul Gauguin, Pablo Picasso, Salvador DalĂ­
    to contemporary creators like Jean-Michel Basquiat, performance artist Marina Abramović, music legends Madonna and Lady Gaga and so on. 

    None of them were “normal.” They stood out precisely because of their fierce individuality and their refusal to be tamed. Their work carries a soul that cannot be replicated.

    They became great because they chose to be themselves—not because they tried to be ordinary.

    Staying true to yourself is an artist’s lifelong homework

    If you want to create art that carries your own temperament and soul, you must stay true to who you are. And yes—this is, in a way, an act of resistance against being disciplined by society.

    The more you try to please others, the more you care about evaluations and trends, the more your art loses its core. But staying true to yourself does not mean rejecting learning or refusing growth. It doesn’t mean acting recklessly under the excuse of “finding yourself.” It means that no matter what pressures surround you, you don’t lose your own voice or your own thinking.

    It means being willing to trade short-term comfort for long-term goals—to invest your time, energy, and focus into what truly matters.

    Even if the road is long and lonely, you keep walking in your direction. Because deep down, you know: Every hardship shapes you. Every bit of persistence will bloom someday.

    Staying true to yourself becomes a silent, powerful force

    Being yourself is hard. You’ll face doubt, loneliness, misunderstanding, criticism, failure, and lack of recognition. But these experiences help you grow, help you refine your voice, and help you discover who you really are.

    Your exploration, your struggles, and your reflections all become part of your artistic language. Over time, the independence, resilience, patience, and faith forged along the way turn into an invisible force—one that quietly moves the people who see your work.

    For artists, staying true to yourself is a form of art.

    Through drawing, music, performance, and movement, we are transmitting our feelings, our perspectives, and the value of our unique existence. And even in the rising wave of AI, this inner strength—the insistence on being fully human—will keep us from losing our direction. It will remain your core competitive power, and your long-term value.

    I’m Daisy, someone who loves creating and sharing art. If you enjoy my content, feel free to like, subscribe, and leave a comment. Tell me your thoughts about art—I’d love to hear them.

  • Do You REALLY Need References to Learn Drawing?

    Today I want to talk about a question almost every art lover has asked at some point — and one many parents wonder about when their kids start learning art: Do we really need to use references? Do we actually need to draw from an object? If you have such questions, you need to keep reading. What I’m sharing comes from decades of drawing and learning, and I hope this video can bring some inspirations on this topic. Without further ado, let’s start it. 

    First, Drawing is a visual language — and every language needs input

    Drawing is not just technique; it’s a form of visual expression, a visual language. And to learn any language, you need input.

    To learn writing, you start with words, sentences, reading. To learn music, you start with notes, rhythm, melody. To learn drawing, you need to understand visual vocabulary and the objects you’re drawing.

    Every time we draw something from observation, the coordination between “eye and hand” helps us understand the subject far more deeply than simply looking at it. Drawing is a tool that sharpens how we observe and understand the world.

    Take trees, for example. Nature gives us thousands of tree varieties — different leaves, different trunks, different silhouettes. The more we observe and record, the richer our visual vocabulary becomes. The richer the vocabulary, the more alive our artwork becomes.

    Good practice is not just about copying objects; it’s also about finding creative ways to express them. Many beginners get stuck on the question: “How can I make my drawing look realistic?” But in the context of contemporary art, that is actually the wrong goal.

    The purpose of using references is to train your ability to see. The purpose of learning art is to express your own interpretation — even when everyone is looking at the same object or the same landscape. This process builds your aesthetic judgment and your ability to think independently.

    Second. Using references is not “copying” — it’s intentional training

    In a world where phone cameras are already hyper-realistic and AI can generate images instantly, the meaning of drawing is not to replicate what we see. What we really want is to express our feelings and ideas through visual language. Here are three ways to train that ability:

    Number 1. Structure, perspective, and lighting matter, but don’t let them restrict you

    Don’t be too harsh on yourself about accuracy. I often see drawings by kids or older hobbyists that aren’t technically precise, yet you can feel their pure love for art in every line. That raw sincerity carries emotional power that perfect realism sometimes lacks.

    Number 2. Build your visual vocabulary through lots of quick sketches

    Back to the tree example: Real trees come in endless forms, but in many artworks, trees are drawn with the same formula.

    Instead of copying someone else’s tree, why not explore your own? Experiment with different lines, shapes, rhythms, and colors. When you can draw a “tree that belongs to you,” you’ve truly developed expressive ability.

    Number 3. Think before you draw — the idea comes first

    In traditional Chinese painting, there’s a guiding principle called “yi zai bi xian” — which means your intention should come before the brush. Whether you’re writing, drawing, or creating any kind of artwork, the idea is to fully form your vision before you put down the first stroke.

    This principle applies to all mediums we use today — watercolor, oil, acrylic, and more. Whenever we face a subject or a scene that inspires us, we should pause and ask ourselves: Does this scene feel warm or lonely? Lively or quiet?

    Once we understand what we truly want to express, elements like line, color, and composition naturally become our tools — not constraints. At that moment, we’re no longer just someone holding a brush; we’re more like conductors, guiding different instruments and voices to create a piece of art with real life in it.

    Working this way means every painting carries our personal interpretation and thought process. And over time, this approach also helps us shape a style that’s uniquely our own.

    Lastly . Abstraction requires foundations — abstract work without thought has no life

    At this point you might be wondering: “There are so many abstract artworks today. Can’t I skip observational drawing and jump straight into abstraction?”

    This question is especially common in children’s art education. Some parents want to “develop creativity,” for their children through drawing. So they avoid letting kids draw from objects. They are afraid that it will limit imagination. But this is actually the opposite of how creativity grows.

    Abstraction and realism aren’t opposites. Abstraction is the refined essence of realism.

    A strong abstract artwork comes from long-term training in: shape and structure, spatial understanding, rhythm and visual organization, color and form language. 

    It’s the artist’s sharp perception of the real world that gives abstraction intention, logic, and emotional resonance — not random color splashes.

    If you skip the foundational observational stage, “abstract art” easily becomes random marks on paper. It may look free, but it’s hollow. It may look expressive, but lacks depth. It lacks visual logic, internal structure, and emotional meaning.

    As many masters have shown us: Understand the world first. Then create your own. Realism is the foundation. Abstraction is the elevation. Realism helps you see. Abstraction helps you express.

    So, I believe you’ve already have your own idea now. Do we need references when it comes to draw? Yes — but not for copying. References help us understand the world. But the ultimate purpose of drawing is emotional expression.

    Our relationship with the reference object is not about “copying.” It’s about borrowing —borrowing nature, objects, visual language —to express what we truly want to communicate.

    I’m Daisy, an artist who loves observing, drawing, and sharing.
    If you enjoyed this passafe, feel free to like, subscribe, or leave a comment.
    You’re also welcome to share your thoughts on art — I’d love to hear them. 

  • How Does People-Pleasing Hold Back Your Artistic Growth?

    In my previous passages, I talked a lot about the connection between drawing, psychology, and neuroscience. Today, I want to continue that conversation and dive into another psychological pattern that quietly—but seriously—holds many artists back: people-pleasing.

    This is a struggle I dealt with for years. If you’re constantly dissatisfied with your work, switching styles all the time, or always chasing the kind of art you think others will like, this video may help you understand the true root of your frustration.

    In this passage, I’ll explain the link between people-pleasing and drawing through three lenses: your psychological mechanisms, your behavioral patterns, and the visual language that shows up in your artwork.

    What Exactly Is People-Pleasing?

    People-pleasing is basically a mindset where you put your own needs aside to avoid conflict, get approval, and keep the peace in your relationships. It usually comes from growing up with emotionally unstable parents, a strict or repressive home, or parents who only gave love and approval if you met certain conditions.

    Typical signs include: Ignoring your true feelings, Struggling to say no, Being extremely sensitive to other people’s reactions, Fear of conflict and overvaluing harmony, Relying on external validation to feel good. One compliment can make your whole day—while a single negative comment can crush you for a week.

    If we summarize people-pleasing in one sentence, it’s this:

    “I must meet other people’s expectations in order to be accepted.”

    In art, that becomes:

    “What will others think?” comes before “What do I want to express?” This mindset affects everything: your artistic motivation, aesthetic judgment, style development, and even your long-term confidence as a creator.

    So, How does People-Pleasing relate to Your Art

    1. Constantly switching styles and losing your authentic voice

    People-pleasers tend to deny their own choices. They study a style, mimic it, master it, then abandon it and move on to another one. Their technical skills grow fast, but their personal style never stabilizes.

    2. Choosing “safe” topics that will get praise

    To earn approval, they prefer drawing subjects that feel universally liked—pretty girls, cute pets, landscapes—while avoiding anything subjective, experimental, strange, or potentially misunderstood. They suppress their true artistic desires in exchange for being liked. This problem is especially common among women, simply because women are often taught—more than men—to be agreeable, well-behaved, and sensitive to others’ expectations.

    3. Perfectionism and harsh self-criticism

    People-pleasers tend to erase and redraw repeatedly, fear showing their work, and get deeply affected by likes and comments. They may create many pieces yet still feel “not good enough” and wonder if they “lack talent.”

    4. People-pleasing visual language

    People-pleasing doesn’t just affect your mind—it shows up in your visual decisions: Art made from a people-pleasing mindset often shows up directly in the visuals:

    the lines tend to be light, hesitant, or repeatedly traced;

    the composition usually places the subject small, pushed into a corner, avoiding the center, with an overall conservative layout.

    In terms of color, you’ll often see soft, low-saturation tones and a fear of using heavy colors like black or anything too bright or intense.

    All these visual traits are essentially reflections of the creator’s inner hesitation, uncertainty, and withdrawal.”

    Why People-Pleasing Can Be Really Damaging to Our Creativity?

    First, it drains our creativity and our willingness to take risks. When we’re constantly worried about how others see us or how they’ll judge our work, we stop expressing ourselves honestly. We play it safe. Our thinking becomes narrow, our imagination shrinks, and we slowly lose that sense of boldness and absurdity that makes art truly alive.

    Second, it suppresses the development of our own artistic style. A personal style is essentially a unique mix of our experiences, preferences, emotions, and the way we perceive the world. But people-pleasing creators focus so much on external approval that they ignore their internal voice. They keep adjusting themselves to fit other people’s expectations — which makes it impossible to settle into a style that’s genuinely their own.

    And third, people-pleasing makes us more prone to burnout. Every piece we create triggers self-doubt. We waste huge amounts of time trying different directions just to avoid making the “wrong” choice. Under the pressure of comparison and the fear of disappointing others, even something we once loved becomes harder to sustain.

    So with all that said, how do we change our people-pleasing tendencies? How do we shift from creating to please others to creating as a form of true self-expression?

    First, people-pleasing creativity is essentially externally driven — we’re constantly pulled around by other people’s feedback. To break out of that pattern, we have to reclaim our own agency and move from external motivation to internal motivation.

    I draw because I enjoy it. I draw to understand myself. I draw to explore new possibilities. I draw because it’s how I express who I am. Our creative purpose should always come from within, not from how others evaluate us.

    Second, when you’re making art, try not to obsessively correct every “wrong” line. Maybe one stroke is off, maybe a patch of color didn’t go as planned, maybe the subject doesn’t look perfectly accurate — but none of that really matters in the final piece. Sometimes the imperfect lines, the mistakes, even the “not-so-realistic” parts carry a kind of raw vitality. Many people actually love those imperfect attempts.

    What really matters is finding people who vibe with your work, instead of polishing yourself endlessly to make others like you.

    Self-doubt and perfectionism are the two major battles people-pleasers must overcome in the creative process.

    Finally, step boldly out of your comfort zone. Try subjects you’ve never drawn before, colors you’ve never used, compositions you’ve never attempted. Experiment with new mediums, make messy sketches, create things with no goal at all. These don’t need to become finished artworks, and you don’t have to show them to anyone. Just quietly observe: What did I learn from these experiments? Which attempts give power to my creative voice?

    The purpose of creating is self-exploration, self-expression, and self-growth —not to submit our work like an exam waiting for others to grade.

    People-pleasing only starts to fade when we understand and accept that it’s normal — and not a big deal — if others don’t like us. That’s when we truly reclaim our own sense of self.”

    I Hope you find this video helpful. If you enjoy my content, feel free to like, subscribe, and leave a comment. You’re also welcome to share your own thoughts on art in the comment section.

  • How to Learn Smarter So AI Can’t Replace You

    The Best Way to Learn in the Age of AI:
    Why Real Progress Comes from Doing, Not Reading

    I realized something important: Trying to gain ability through reading alone is secretly a way of avoiding the real work. It is a mental shortcut disguised as “self-improvement.” And it leads to zero results.

    Today I want to talk about a mindset shift that completely changed the way I learn, create, and even make money. And honestly, it might challenge some of your beliefs too.

    For a long time, I used to think that reading more books, watching more tutorials, and absorbing more information would naturally make me better. Better at drawing, better at learning languages, better at understanding the world.

    But here’s the truth I learned the hard way:

    Trying to gain ability through reading alone is actually a subtle form of “laziness.”

    It’s the hope that you can skip the hard parts—the frustration, the experimentation, the trial and error—and somehow jump straight to mastery.
    At its core, it’s a kind of “wanting results without doing the work.”

    And in the age of AI—when information is everywhere and skills can be automated—the only learning method that truly keeps you ahead is not reading. It’s doing.

    Let me share how this plays out in my own journey across three areas: drawing, language learning, and making money.

    First. Drawing: You only improve when you create with intention

    I’ve been drawing for decades. And for a long time, I made the classic mistake:
    I thought I could improve just by reading art books or studying techniques.

    There’s nothing wrong with reading, but it should never be your primary path to progress. Because passive input without output doesn’t change your ability.

    Real improvement only happens when you draw with intention.

    For example, when I want to draw a cityscape, I don’t just “look” at it. I think:

    How do I draw skyscraper?
    How do I show the movement of crowds?
    How do I make the lights feel alive?

    When you create with a purpose, your input becomes meaningful. The world becomes specific. And your drawings carry your own thinking—not just technical labor.

    Second. Language learning: You will never sound natural by memorizing vocabulary or studying textbook

    I upload my drawing videos in both English and native language. The English version really forced me to grow—because I had to use the language, not just study it.

    When I translate my scripts, I naturally learn the exact vocabulary I need:
    words like unpredictability, figurative, ornamentation. Not random textbook words—But the actual words that matter to my message.

    And when I record voiceovers, I have no choice but to try, fail, and try again.
    My early recordings were stiff and flat. I even tested AI voiceovers, and while they sounded perfect, but they felt lifeless and have nothing to do with me.

    So I kept practicing. And slowly, my rhythm, pronunciation, and flow improved—not to native level, but enough to communicate clearly and connect with viewers.

    None of this came from reading English books. It came from using the language, publicly, imperfectly, repeatedly.

    Third. Making money: Income is a reward for taking deliberate action.

    For years, I believed that “reading more books” would help me earn more.
    I once forced myself to finish a book every two days on management, investing, finance—you name it.

    Looking back… it was naive. Books don’t make you money. Products, actions, experiments, and real-world feedback do.

    You can apply the same logic here: Just as drawing improves through purposeful creation, and language improves through speaking…earning money improves through building things, testing ideas, and understanding the market.

    Creating videos is, in itself, building a product. Some videos perform well, some fail. Why? Only action reveals the answer.

    If you don’t act, reflect, and act again, you’re not improving—you’re just repeating the same day 1,000 times. Money is simply the reward for intentional action.

    So what’s the real lesson?

    I finally realized something important: Trying to gain ability through reading alone is secretly a way of avoiding the real work. It is a mental shortcut disguised as “self-improvement.” And it leads to zero results.

    In the age of AI, reading is cheap. But doing—thinking, creating, trying, failing, iterating—is what actually builds skill and keeps you ahead.

    I’m Daisy, a storyteller who records and shares art. If you enjoy this kind of content, feel free to like, subscribe, or leave a comment. And if you’re navigating your own challenges in learning or creating, share them below—I’d love to hear your story.

  • Why You’re Not Improving… Even After Years of Drawing


    Today I want to talk about a question almost every Art hobbyist eventually asks: Why does it feel like I’ve been drawing for so long, yet I’m not improving at all?
    Does this mean I have no talent? Am I just not meant for art?

    I’ve taken countless detours on my own art journey. I’ve doubted myself many times. But eventually, I discovered three core truths about artistic progress. And today, I’m sharing these truths with you, no filters and no holding back.

    First: unlike many other subjects, drawing does not follow a linear learning path, and it doesn’t have a single, unified standard of evaluation.

    For example, I once spent a period of time teaching myself piano, and I realized something important: piano has a highly structured learning system. You start with the foundational method books, then gradually move through levels like Czerny 599, 299, 749, and beyond. Notes, rhythms, and mistakes are concrete—you can immediately hear what’s right and what’s wrong. Just like solving a math problem or spotting a spelling error, the feedback is clear, specific, and traceable.

    But drawing doesn’t work like that.

    A line that looks “wrong” to one viewer might be completely intentional from the artist’s perspective. When Impressionism first appeared, critics dismissed it as “unfinished scribbles” and accused it of “destroying traditional art.”

    When Fauvism emerged, critics called the artists “savages” and said their canvases looked like “a child’s paint box exploded.” Yet today, these works are not only masterpieces—they changed the course of art history.

    This is why learning to draw is fundamentally an act of exploration and experimentation. There is no single answer key. And you don’t need to invalidate yourself because you don’t fit someone else’s standard.

    Second: the fact that modern art has no absolute standard does not mean we can skip learning the basics.

    In school, we briefly learn about lines, shapes, value, color theory, composition, and so on. But most of us never truly reflect on how these visual languages relate to our own work.

    Without that understanding, we end up mechanically chasing realism—“making it look like the reference”—instead of actually creating.

    To grow as an artist, we must also study and reflect on what artists throughout history have already attempted. Only when we stand on the shoulders of giants can we innovate further.

    Third: most people lack a habit of reviewing their work and reflecting on their mistakes.

    Many artists, including my past self, get obsessed with posting drawings for likes, hoping for that quick hit of validation. There’s nothing wrong with sharing—but the problem is stopping there.

    A common misconception is: “The more you draw, the better you’ll get.”
    Or, “If your art isn’t improving, it’s because you’re not working hard enough.”
    This is the same kind of nonsense as saying “If you’re not successful, it’s because you didn’t work hard enough.”

    In reality, repeating mistakes without reflection only reinforces them.
    Some people even throw away old drawings, then unknowingly make the exact same mistakes in the next piece.

    Instead, we need to review our work deliberately:
    What exactly improved?
    What exactly fell short?
    Was it composition? Layering? Edges? Could the trees, the shapes, the light be expressed differently?

    Even great artists don’t create masterpieces every time. So don’t be too hard on yourself. But reflection is what consistently improves your craft—and helps you grow into your own artistic voice.

    To sum up what we just talked about:, First, don’t judge yourself too quickly against some “universal standard” or fixed answer. Second, focus on learning the language of art and studying other artworks systematically—draw from a creative perspective, rather than just trying to make things look realistic. Third, reflect on your own work regularly. Analyzing what worked, what didn’t, and where you’ve improved will help you progress much further.

    I’m Daisy, a storyteller who records and shares art. If you enjoy my content, feel free to like, subscribe, and comment below. You can also tell me your thoughts, your struggles, or anything art-related. I hope my words and drawings can bring you inspiration on your own creative journey.

  • What Should You Do With Your “Bad” Drawings?

    Today, I want to talk about a problem every artist has faced at some point: what should you do with the drawings you dislike—the ones that look “ugly,” messy, or like total failures? Should you throw them away? Or hide them in a drawer to collect dust?

    I want to share three practical ways to deal with these drawings that seem worthless at first glance.

    First, don’t rush to throw them out. They are far more valuable than you think.
    We often demand perfection from ourselves. When a drawing turns out “bad,” our first reaction is to trash it. But in reality, these imperfect works are the most honest record of your progress. Do you think great artists never made terrible work? Van Gogh’s rough sketches, Picasso’s failed attempts—many of them survived, and today they are key to understanding their artistic growth. The drawings you dislike right now will one day become important evidence of your evolving style, color instincts, and line habits.

    Second, use mixed media to transform the old piece into something new.
    Paint over it, collage on top, layer new lines—try bold compositions and visual experiments on the old surface. This saves paper, of course, but more importantly, it gives you a pressure-free playground to explore. The traces underneath will become part of the painting’s memory, and with a relaxed mindset, you might create something surprisingly fresh.

    Third, review your work—don’t just reject it.

    Many people see a bad drawing and immediately think: “Maybe I have no talent.” But most of the time, what we lack is not talent—it’s the ability to evaluate ourselves. Ask yourself three simple questions:

    1. What actually worked in this piece? Composition? Color? Line quality?
    2. What part am I unhappy with? What went wrong?
    3. How can I improve next time, and what specific method will I use?

    Once you shift from emotional judgment to analytical reflection, your art begins to grow in a real, meaningful way.

    How we treat our “bad” drawings is often how we treat life.

    Every day, we face choices, mistakes, and imperfect outcomes. Do we avoid them, erase them, and pretend they didn’t happen? Or do we pause, reflect, and understand why things went wrong? Each unsatisfying drawing is a mirror. It reminds us that imperfections and wrong turns are not failures—they are gateways to a clearer understanding of ourselves.

    To summarize:
    Keep your imperfect works—they reveal your growth.
    Paint over them—use mixed media to experiment bravely.
    Review them—break problems down into steps you can improve.

    I’m Daisy, a storyteller who records and shares art. If you enjoy my content, feel free like, subscribe, and leave a comment. And share me: how do you deal with your unsatisfying drawings?

  • What Art Teaches Us That School Never Will

    There’s a common belief that studying art is a waste of time. Have you ever heard someone say, ‘Studying art is useless? In the end, you’ll only be teaching it to others in a training class’? I started a bachelor’s degree in management and then a master’s in fine arts, and along the way, I discovered some deep truths about art that no one ever talks about.

    I’m not trying to change your opinion about art; I just hope that by reading this, you can discover the meaning of learning art for yourself.

    First, most people don’t realize—and textbooks will never tell us—that painting and art have actually supported the development of modern society. I don’t want to repeat the usual phrases like “art improves your aesthetic sense” or “enhances your observation skills.” I want to show you how artistic movements, sometimes seeming far removed from daily life, have repeatedly driven societal change, influenced technology, design, and thought, and even shaped the course of human civilization.

    Did you know?

    160 years ago Impressionism opened up modern visual language and changed the way people see the world. By introducing the concept of “fleeting light and color,” Impressionists transformed how we experience painting—it’s not just about realism anymore, it’s about feeling. This shift influenced photography, film cinematography, advertising, and lighting design.

    100 years ago The Bauhaus movement in Germany emphasis on functionalism, minimalism, and geometric forms shaped industrial product design, furniture, architecture, and even city planning. The objects we use every day, our homes, and our modern sense of aesthetics all owe a lot to this movement.

    70 years ago Pop Art brought elite art into everyday life, creating mass culture and a visual language for the consumer age. Andy Warhol and Pop Art brought commercial visuals into the art world, influencing advertising, packaging, and popular culture—and shaping the era of brands and consumerism.

    Think about it: the choices we make in daily life—our phones, furniture, cars, appliances, clothing, even product packaging—are all influenced, consciously or unconsciously, by these artistic movements. If you want to understand how modern art has shaped human society, you could fill a whole book and still barely scratch the surface.

    Second, no other subject teaches you to challenge authority and create your own language like painting does. Many people who haven’t studied art assume, “Painting is just making something look like the real thing.” But this idea was overturned over 200 years ago. Modern art is no longer about replication—it’s a tool for questioning rules, breaking conventions, and inventing new forms of expression.

    Francis Bacon once wrote in The Advancement of Learning:

    “History makes a man wise; poetry makes him witty; mathematics makes him precise; natural philosophy makes him deep; ethical studies make him grave; and logic and rhetoric make him able to contend.”

    Today, painting gives us the space to challenge authority visually and create new languages. If most school subjects teach standardized answers and demand conformity, painting does the opposite—it allows you to be different, and you will never be the same as anyone else.

    People often criticize art because they’re used to uniformity and afraid of individuality.

    Third, art is a medium for self-exploration and emotional expression.

    I often say that painting isn’t just a professional art—it’s also a kind of play, and even a form of therapy. When we paint, it helps us ease anxiety, calm our worries, and release stress. Painting isn’t just about technique; it’s a way to explore ourselves.

    Especially in today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world, where anyone could face uncertainty or job instability, scrolling through videos or chasing consumerism isn’t enough—we need a way to process and soothe our emotions. Painting satisfies our creative urges, goes beyond pure utilitarianism and Materialism provides deep spiritual fulfillment. It’s an essential part of the human experience, making our life richer, meaningful, and more human.

    If you haven’t yet experienced these three incredible aspects of painting, now is the perfect time to discover the true magic of art.

    I Hope you find this content helpful. If you enjoy my content, feel free to like, subscribe, and leave a comment. You’re also welcome to share your own thoughts on art in the comment section.

  • 3 Practical Tips to Select Your Ideal Art Medium

    In my last content, How to Discover Your Unique Artistic Style I talked about how to find your own artistic style. Today, I want to continue that conversation and tackle a challenge almost every art lover faces: How do you choose the right art medium for yourself?

    Many art lovers switch mediums every once for a while. You spend some time with acrylics, then fall in love with watercolor. You practice watercolor for a while, then suddenly the iPad looks very tempting. This constant switching can become one of the biggest obstacles to developing a stable and recognizable artistic style.

    And this isn’t just a beginner problem. Even trained art students experience this.
    Oil painters fall in love with the texture of ink. Watercolor students discover printmaking and never look back. Switching mediums isn’t wrong. In fact, choosing your medium is a journey of self-understanding.

    Your personality, your temperament, and your preferences—all of these are hidden in the style you are about to create. 

    So today, I want to share three practical methods to help you choose a medium that truly fits you.

    First. Explore widely before you decide.

    Do not judge yourself “I’m not good at it” before you’ve even tried. The sensory experience each medium gives you is the most honest indicator of whether it fits you.

    Spend some time exploring different mediums: graphite, colored pencils, watercolor, markers, oil pastels, acrylic, soft pastels, ink—anything you can find.

    Pay attention to the experience: the bold colors of acrylic, the fluid unpredictability of watercolor, the tactile texture of graphite, the soft, dreamy feel of pastels. 

    Try them systematically, and document how each one makes you feel. After exploring, choose the medium that creates effects you love and one you naturally handle well.

    Second. Start with the medium you feel most comfortable with.

    Your medium doesn’t have to be expensive or trendy. It just needs to be something you can easily pick up every day—a pencil, a basic watercolor set, or acrylic on canvas.

    The more familiar you become with your medium, the easier it is to stay consistent. And consistency—not expensive supplies—is what separates amateurs from artists.

    Growth comes from steady practice, reflection, and understanding the materials in your hands.

    Lastly. iPad drawing is an extension—not a replacement.

    Digital drawing is powerful. It combines the expressive possibilities of traditional mediums with modern convenience. But for beginners, the endless options—brushes, textures, layers—can be overwhelming.

    And no matter how advanced digital tools are, they cannot fully replace the tactile, physical textures of traditional mediums.

    So if you’re new to drawing, or if you want to build a unique artistic voice, traditional mediums remain the best training ground.

    I often find connections between drawing and life—how they influence and mirror each other. I hope sharing these reflections can inspire you and your own creative journey.

  • How to Discover Your Unique Artistic Style

    If you love drawing, or you’ve just started learning it, you might find yourself constantly switching between different mediums—colored pencils, watercolor, the iPad, and so on. Your subjects may jump from portraits to landscapes to small everyday objects. If this sounds familiar, you need to read this article. What I’m sharing today is the result of decades of learning art and falling into countless traps along the way. This passage can easily save you ten years of detours.

    For Many beginners—or even hobbyists who have been drawing for a while—will face the same struggle: when you look at other artists’ work, you feel genuinely envious of their unique styles. Some artworks feel wildly imaginative, some are incredibly powerful in color, some tell strong stories, some show amazing technical skill. Some pieces look simple, yet feel warm and comforting. All of them have something special—something that makes us pause and admire. That “special something” is the artist’s style.

    So, how do you develop your own artistic style? Almost every creator asks this question. But here’s what you need to know: style isn’t something you can “think” your way into. You can fabricate a style through shortcuts, but you’ll quickly get bored of it and abandon what you made up. A lasting, authentic style requires exploration and trial and error. It emerges naturally from long-term creation, shaped by your interests, your personality, and your life experiences.

    So, how do you actually find your style?

    First, style doesn’t start with technique—it starts with preference. Begin with the medium you love most or feel most comfortable with. Starting today, pay attention to what draws you in: the fluid unpredictability of watercolor, the texture of colored pencils, and so on. Notice which subjects feel most natural to draw, and what you want to express through them. The things that repeatedly show up in your work—that’s your preference.

    Second, don’t rush to be “original.” Most artists’ styles begin through imitation. Imitation isn’t stealing—it’s part of learning the language of art. Copy the use of color, brushwork, or composition of the artists you admire. Even when you imitate, you’ll discover that part of the work still carries something uniquely yours. That “irreplaceable difference” is the seed of your style.

    Third, you need volume. Style doesn’t come from thinking—it comes from making. With ten pieces, it’s hard to see any pattern. With a hundred, patterns start to appear. With a thousand, your style will grow on its own. All the imperfect pieces, ugly sketches, and failed attempts—they’re all part of the puzzle. Quantity pushes you toward quality.

    Fourth, your style comes from your life. Your travels, the music you listen to, the movies you watch, the books you read, the emotions you’ve experienced, the pain and joy you’ve gone through—all of these shape the way you understand the world. The richer your life becomes, the more unique your expression will be. Art isn’t a stack of techniques—it’s a concentration of experiences. Your unique life experiences and personal insights will naturally show up in your artwork. 

    Fifth, style takes time—and patience. Don’t chase a style too quickly by forcing special effects or gimmicks. A manufactured style is fragile and won’t last. True style is something you can’t escape from, even when you’re not trying. It shows up in your unconscious choices, in the marks that grow naturally over the years.

    The way we find our artistic style mirrors the way we find our path in life. First, record yourself frequently. Observe your interests and tendencies to identify your real preferences. Second, look for people you admire—whether they’re celebrities, artists, or business leaders—and learn from how they think and act. Third, there are no shortcuts in life. Only through trial and error can you gradually get closer to your true direction. Lastly, discovering yourself takes time. Some people have strong support—good education or financial stability—but most of us must rely on persistence and effort. Flowers don’t bloom overnight. And once you find your path, you need patience and conviction to stay on it.