There’s a particular kind of ache that comes when something you made doesn’t match what you imagined.
You know what I mean, that moment when you step back from your work, brush still in hand, and realize it’s... not right. Not what you saw in your mind. Not what you hoped it would be. The color is off. The composition feels flat. You layered too soon, or waited too long, or maybe you can’t even name what is wrong, you just feel it in your chest, a tightening. A pulling away.
I’ve been there more times than I can count. And for a long time, I thought that feeling meant I was failing.
But lately, I’ve been thinking about something Claude Monet said:
“I would advise young artists to paint as they can, as long as they can, without being afraid of painting badly.”
Monet believed that mistakes are part of learning the language of art, fear of imperfection only holds us back.
And I wonder… what if that ache isn’t failure at all? What if it’s direction? A quiet invitation to follow something unexpected?
Because the truth is, I’ve never made anything meaningful without first getting it “wrong.”
I was working in my collage journal a few days ago, and suddenly I hit a wall. A shape I didn’t want. A color that overwhelmed everything else. My first instinct was to panic. I ruined it.
But then I took a breath. Stepped away. Came back the next day with less judgment. I added a new layer. Covered part of the problem with a quote. Drew into the space I thought I’d lost. Something entirely new came forward, something I never would’ve found if I hadn’t first gotten it wrong.
I’m learning (slowly, stubbornly) that mistakes aren’t detours, they’re the path. That art isn’t about getting it “right.” It’s about being willing to get it wrong, again and again, until the truth of what you’re really trying to say shows up.
Working in layers has taught me this. Every time I think I’ve wrecked something, the next layer saves it. Or shifts it. Or reveals something I couldn’t see before. That’s not failure. That’s transformation.
It’s the same in life. Grief layers over joy. Mistakes lead to clarity. Shame gives way to softness. The parts I wanted to cover up? They often become the most powerful.
So if you’re in that place right now. If you’re staring at a page, or a canvas, or even just your life, thinking this isn’t what I hoped it would be, I want you to know:
You are not failing.
You are finding. Your way. Your style. Your voice.
Keep making your layers. Keep messing it up. Keep letting it be ugly and strange and unsure. That’s where the real magic lives.
You don’t have to be fearless. Just curious.
P.S. I’ve been collecting quotes lately, words that feel like friends whispering in my ear when I mess up. Here are a few that I keep close:
“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.” — Scott Adams
“There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.” — Bob Ross
“Perfection is the enemy of creation.” — Unknown
“Mistakes are the portals of discovery.” — James Joyce
“When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you, a tree, a house, a field, or whatever. Merely think, here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow. — Claude Monet