How to Like Your Old Work

Sustaining (and enjoying) a creative career depends partly on being a fan of the stuff you make, both old and new.

Crop of a recent drawing done to test new Procreate brushes.

Most artists I know do not enjoy looking at their older work. “I would do that so differently today,” they’ll sometimes say with an air of mild disgust.

This is natural. If things go as planned, your latest work should be your best because you continue to grow and improve in numerous areas: craft, technique, concepts, originality, and so on. And, as is often mentioned, your ability to notice improvement in these areas is a powerful motivator to continue on the learning path.

It’s easier to be a fan of your current work because you are, in theory, the best you’ve ever been. The subjects or themes of the work of the present moment play a role, as well. It’s all right here, right now— the “newness” keeps you productive and engaged.

But, have you ever had a person tell you how much they love something you did five years ago? Ten? They may even say it’s their “favorite.”

Depending on the work they reference, you may be tempted to blurt out, “That?! But that’s so old - my new work is much better.”

I think this is a mistake.

First, no good comes from invalidating the enjoyment somebody else gets from your work. For them, this older work of yours has value— sometimes, there may even be deeper personal reasons behind why somebody likes a piece of art, such as the particular circumstances in which they discovered it. A drawing, song, or film you made — on the way to making something better, in your opinion— could hold special meaning for somebody else.

A better response to a person’s praise of something you created in the past (and that you perhaps find inferior) might be, “Thank you. What do you like about it?”

Hearing their reply will help you to see your work differently. Instead of noticing all the flaws or “amateur” choices made, you can allow yourself to see things through the eyes of a fan. They are not looking for mistakes; all they see is beauty.

Why does this matter?

I believe we sometimes force ourselves to forget what was appealing about our older work in our quest to make work that is completely new. It’s a normal part of the growth we thrive on as creative people.

What gets lost in this process is the carrying forward of the elements in earlier pieces that are still successful. If people continue to respond to our “old” work, we should take a second look and mine these pieces for nuggets of goodness, taking them with us and finding ways to incorporate them into our present-day projects.

It’s also beneficial to develop a genuine appreciation for the fact that you were doing your best and were excited about the work you were making at any point in your artistic journey, whether it was last year or twenty years ago. What you made in the past must have given you a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction or you wouldn’t still be making things today.

Finally, at the very least, it’s just nicer to look at something you did a decade ago and instead of saying, “that blue color was a mistake,” you can say, instead, “I like the green I chose there.”

Put simply: take a look at some old work and ask, what would a fan say?

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PS - This applies to other areas of your life. Not to get too deep here, but think of all the things you might do better now (parenting, being a partner, managing your time and your health, etc.). It’s easy to beat yourself up over how seemingly incompetent you were in days gone by, when it comes to any number of things, but it’s probably a better mental exercise to look for ways you got it right. I’m no therapist, but I think this is a sound approach. 🙂

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I’m traveling for the next two weeks, but will try to squeeze in a new issue in the middle of all that. I’ll end this issue with a couple of drawings I did with some new colored pencils I bought on a whim at a Heidelberg stationary shop. Each pencil has two colors and they are extra fat, the colors are brilliant and you can use them as watercolors. Lovely.

Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other, remember to be kind, and I’ll say, Ciao for now.