The Fine Art of Encouragement
I've been thinking a lot lately about the Fine Art of Encouragement. I'm sure everyone "knows" that encouragement is important in the life of any creative person, no matter the craft they practice. And we all do certainly remember to say things like "I really loved your last book!" or "That autumn night painting of yours is so beautiful!" or "I'm so happy your movie is doing well!"
And any creator does love to hear those statements. It is a joy to know others find value in your work.
But look at those statements again. They are all about the end object of the work, the thing produced.
What have you (or I, for that matter) said in addition to that praise that will refresh and encourage the artist the next morning when he or she gets up to start on the next piece?
For the creative person, there is a definite "rush" - almost a high - in completing a piece of work, one you absolutely know is good. There is a joy in being finally able to look at this created thing that is now finally outside yourself, something that others can look at or read or listen to, something that is not just bio-electric activity inside the bone-box of your skull.
But once it is done, after the rush has run out, you sit there with another blank space in front of you. And you wonder, "Can I do it again? Do I even know how I did it that other time? Do I really have the skill to pull it off?" Or, most frightening, "Was that great piece just a fluke?"
This is where the Fine Art of Encouragement comes into play. When we praise someone, when we really want to encourage them, we need to take a step beyond praising just this work. We need to speak to those qualities that are particularly strong in that artist's work, the qualities that consistently reach out and touch us. For the more we nourish those aspects in our friend the artist, the surer the artist becomes about his or her ability to "do it again." And when an artist feels even the least bit confident of coming near their internal mark of excellence, the more they want to try for it.
I have many creative friends. One writer friend is one of the most compact writers I have ever read: he can convey a full characterization in a pungent short description and one or two lines of dialogue. Another writer has an impressive knack for writing truly scary stories without inflicting vomit-inducing gore on you, and when he does get gorey, ti is always serving the story and not the momentary effect. One artist friend has a brilliant sense of composition, and a wonderfully graceful flow in the work. Another artist has an intense love of texture and character and atmosphere that comes alive in even the simplest pieces. One young friend has an amazing singing voice that rises from her very soul and not just the "latest sound" she heard.
Any creative person goes through bouts of self-doubt. I certainly have done so. And sometimes they come when I'm doing particularly good work. The words that really help me through those moments are the ones that come from that second mode of encouragement: praise for clarity in writing, for the qualities that touched the other person. Oh, I still love the immediate ones like "I love that picture!" But what will nourish me even more are the words that feed the skills that made the picture possible.
It's an interactive process, you see. It's not just "This is beautiful," but "It touched me thusly."
And any creator does love to hear those statements. It is a joy to know others find value in your work.
But look at those statements again. They are all about the end object of the work, the thing produced.
What have you (or I, for that matter) said in addition to that praise that will refresh and encourage the artist the next morning when he or she gets up to start on the next piece?
For the creative person, there is a definite "rush" - almost a high - in completing a piece of work, one you absolutely know is good. There is a joy in being finally able to look at this created thing that is now finally outside yourself, something that others can look at or read or listen to, something that is not just bio-electric activity inside the bone-box of your skull.
But once it is done, after the rush has run out, you sit there with another blank space in front of you. And you wonder, "Can I do it again? Do I even know how I did it that other time? Do I really have the skill to pull it off?" Or, most frightening, "Was that great piece just a fluke?"
This is where the Fine Art of Encouragement comes into play. When we praise someone, when we really want to encourage them, we need to take a step beyond praising just this work. We need to speak to those qualities that are particularly strong in that artist's work, the qualities that consistently reach out and touch us. For the more we nourish those aspects in our friend the artist, the surer the artist becomes about his or her ability to "do it again." And when an artist feels even the least bit confident of coming near their internal mark of excellence, the more they want to try for it.
I have many creative friends. One writer friend is one of the most compact writers I have ever read: he can convey a full characterization in a pungent short description and one or two lines of dialogue. Another writer has an impressive knack for writing truly scary stories without inflicting vomit-inducing gore on you, and when he does get gorey, ti is always serving the story and not the momentary effect. One artist friend has a brilliant sense of composition, and a wonderfully graceful flow in the work. Another artist has an intense love of texture and character and atmosphere that comes alive in even the simplest pieces. One young friend has an amazing singing voice that rises from her very soul and not just the "latest sound" she heard.
Any creative person goes through bouts of self-doubt. I certainly have done so. And sometimes they come when I'm doing particularly good work. The words that really help me through those moments are the ones that come from that second mode of encouragement: praise for clarity in writing, for the qualities that touched the other person. Oh, I still love the immediate ones like "I love that picture!" But what will nourish me even more are the words that feed the skills that made the picture possible.
It's an interactive process, you see. It's not just "This is beautiful," but "It touched me thusly."