5 Unintended Lessons I Learned from Art School
By: Frank Mckinley
Tags: Life Lessons, Entrepreneurship, Creativity, Art, Marketing

5 Unintended Lessons I Learned from Art School

This wasn’t in the curriculum, but it should be

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

When I graduated from high school, my parents expected me to go to college.

I enrolled at the University of Georgia because it was close to home.

I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to study. So I sampled a few things — journalism, business, drinking… Finally, I settled into Art.

I’d spent a lot of time drawing and writing when I was young. Why not study it more?

Then it dawned on me.

You’re supposed to be able to make money when you get out of school.

From what I could tell, not one of my art classes (or any other one I had taken for that matter) taught me anything about money. The only business education I had so far was running a newspaper route.

And there was that time I sold my stereo to my brother on credit.

The Breaking Point

Sculpture wasn’t fun for me.

My teacher was a graying middle-aged American who wore pigtails that were the worst stereotype of an American Indian that I’d ever seen. The Western style shirts didn’t help.

His lectures were short, confusing, and vague. He spent most of the class time walking around surveying our projects and dropping comments on them as we carved away on them.

The only project I remember was one where I spent 3 weeks carving a head with a bored expression. I placed it atop what resembled an Americanized totem pole.

My professor gave me a C.

Across the table from me was a glass jar with a black cape draped behind it. Inside was a potato that had been left in the cabinet for a year and forgotten.

The “Artist” that assembled this ridiculous project got an A.

An A? Really? What does this mean?

Then one day as we were carving away, my professor made a bold statement. It’s the only thing I remember him saying the whole semester.

“You know, you might have to work at Burger King for awhile before you make it as an artist.”

Wow. What a promising future awaits us after spending $80,000 for a piece of paper we’ll stuff in a drawer and forget.

I told myself, “I work at Burger King now. I might as well go to work.”

I sold time for money a while longer. I went into business a few times. I even tried my hand at insurance sales. And from time to time, I still made Art.

13 years ago, I got serious about being a writer.

Then I realized there were some things I learned in Art School that weren’t on the curriculum.

And if they were, Art Schools could change the culture every New Artist enters.

Lesson #1 — With focus, you can be really good at something.

When I did art for school, it got bigger.

Like 10 times bigger.

Before this I drew in sketch pads the size of a school notebook. Now I was required to buy expensive poster-sized canvases.

They are supposed to last longer, they said.

Thirty years later, I still own some of my best pieces.

Since my art was so much bigger, the time I spent on it swelled, too. One 24" x 36" drawing might take 10 to 20 hours to complete. I could finish a 11” x 14” drawing in an hour or two.

The difference is in the details.

Now I understand why Malcolm Gladwell said it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a true expert. With that much focus, you can become so good, you’ll amaze yourself and your friends.

And maybe even some strangers.

Time spent developing your talent is time well spent.

Lesson #2 — Being able to see helps you create great art.

Seth Godin subtitled his book This is Marketing with this sentence:

You can’t be seen until you learn to see.

Art that is shared is a contribution to the Artist’s culture.

What point are you trying to make with your work?

When I was drawing portraits, I wanted to capture the essence of the person I was drawing. I wanted my drawing to be a representation of the person, not just the way she looks.

When I write, I want to teach. If I can make you think, I’ll call that a success. If I can change your mind and put you on a better course, that’s a win for both of us.

That’s what good art should do.

So, how do you learn to see?

First, put aside your worldview. We all have a set of standards. We all believe the world should be a certain way. That’s a great way to live, but it can blind you to why others do what they do.

Second, train yourself to see what is. You can do this by doing what storytellers do. They show us a scene and leave us to draw conclusions from the details they share. Look at your living room. What do you see? How does it make you feel? Why do you think it makes you feel that way?

Third, remember people do things for their own reasons, right or wrong. If you want to get through to others, start where they are. Learn their worldview. Then you’ll be able to make connections to a different way of thinking about things. Consider their motivations and desires if you want to get their attention.

Then show them what the win is.

Essentially, what everyone wants is hope. How does what you do satisfy this desire?

Find the answer and your art can change someone’s life.

It might even change your community, your nation, and maybe even the world.

Lesson #3 — All Art fits somewhere.

No is the word every artist hates to hear.

“No, I don’t like your work.”

“No, we won’t put your art in our gallery.”

“No, I don’t think you can make a living with your art.”

Substitute writing, coaching, or products for the word “Art” and you’ll see what a huge problem this is.

Here’s a metaphor for your consideration.

When you buy a pair of shoes, you probably don’t grab the first pair you find, purchase it, and walk out. No, you look at lots of pairs. When one style catches your eye, you start looking for your size.

When you find one, you take a walk to see how well they fit.

If they do, you take them to the counter and live happily ever after.

If they don’t, you keep looking.

When those shoes wear out, you repeat the process to find a new pair that fits.

Art is like this. You look for an opportunity to make a difference. You make a pitch to some prospects. When you find a good match, you make a deal.

When you hear “No”, it just means your Art isn’t a good fit in this situation.

Don’t be a barefoot artist. Keep shopping until you find enough shoes (opportunities) to fill your closet (client list) for any occasion.

Lesson #4 — You’ve got to learn marketing if you want to sell your art.

I asked my academic advisor how to sell my art.

He shrugged.

“We don’t teach that here. You’ll need to go to business school to learn that.”

“Hmm. So what do I do after school?” I asked.

“You could teach. But you’ll need some education classes. Or you can go to grad school.”

I left that room shaking my head in disbelief.

Then it hit me. Colleges exist to make money. Sure, they call themselves nonprofits. If that’s so, then why do they charge such high tuition? Why do you need to attend two or three different departments to get a well-rounded education? And why on earth will they let you leave without making sure you can make a living?

Whatever the case, I realized my education and my ability to earn a living was completely up to me.

Most of my work career has been in business. I started in restaurants. Later, I worked in the clothing business. These products are necessities. Even commodities. But when you offer people what they need (and want), you’ve got a chance to earn some money.

The businesses that succeed are the ones that learn how to sell.

The ones that succeed wildly are those that feed a hungry crowd something they can’t get anywhere else.

Your Art is special. It’s unique because it comes from your experience, your worldview, and your voice. It’s valuable because you’ve felt the pain, pushed through it, and found a way to break through to the other side.

Don’t think of your art as a commodity. Celebrate it. Make it just for the people who matter. And don’t water it down because it feels safer to be bland.

Stand out and people will stand in line to take your offer.

And you won’t engage in a price war that nobody wins.

Lesson #5 — Art is worth doing for its own sake.

I did my art before I ever thought about going to school to study it.

I did it because I cared, not because I wanted to be famous.

Art was an outlet, a sanctuary. It was a way for me to deal with all my feelings and ease the confusion they brought me. It was a light and a clearing in the fog of my teenage years. Sometimes I wonder if art was what kept me alive when I wanted a way out of my miserable life.

I created art because to me, it was worth doing.

I felt more alive with a pen or a brush in my hand than I felt doing anything else.

It was a way for me to make my world beautiful when nothing else could.

Does making art do this for you?

It can.

Create beauty.

Then get bold and share it.

Don’t worry about the critics. Your work isn’t for them. The funny thing is that even though they say they don’t like it, it moved them to stop, look, think, and say something.

That’s powerful.

Now, go create something.

Then tell me about it in the responses. Maybe your story will inspire someone else to create something remarkable.