Note To Know:
This isn’t a tutorial.
This isn’t advice.
This is a checkpoint — a record of what returning to art looks like for me right now after stepping away for years.
Why I Chose Procreate Over Every Other App
So, my coworker uses Procreate for her business. She has her own online store, she’s had it for over a decade, and it’s the program she uses to import and export files from the designers she works with.
She’s not an artist, she’s more technical than artistic, and that’s fine.
Procreate was a program I had used before, and it took away my exhausted decision fatigue to pick a different, “5.0/5.0 ratings, millions of users trust this app, use this app for it’ll be the only thing you need,” program I knew nothing about.
I’ve already made several sketches after making showing my coworker my design. They’re simple, but functional for my current skill set, and I’m okay with that.
Even though my sketches are simple, I kept drawing different things, taking various inspirations or turning thoughts into images, to measure whether or not artistic progress was still doable after time away.
I’ve Been Drawing For Days to See If Progress Exists in My Late 20’s
It’s been more than a decade since I last picked up Procreate; the last time I used Procreate had been in University when I had thought that digital sketching wasn’t going to be any better than traditional art—drawing with paper and mechanical pencils— and I was trying out a new app.
I learned very quickly that using a screen meant that my work wouldn’t have to be smeared by my clammy hands, nor would I need to worry about buying 120+ colored pencils of the rainbow that would cost me an arm and a leg to get.
I liked making things, but I didn’t want to use my money and become the stereotypical “starving artist” cliche who would die for her art.
I’m good.
I’ve mentioned in another article that I picked up Procreate because of an artistic request from work
and I took up the challenge to:
- See where my skills had atrophied.
- If I could make something good after a long hiatus.
- And to help my coworker out because she asked.
Full Disclaimer: I wasn’t commissioned, I wasn’t consulting someone on how to draw, I was asked to help with a style design and made my own design from the parameters she showed me after working.
Technically—this was unpaid— but I agreed to help, knowing my current skills, gaps, and expectations.
Making anything and keeping it as a means of, “Hey, I made something after years away, and I don’t hate it outright,” is better than, “I’ll never pick up X because its been too long.”
An Archive of Proof; Not A Gallery Exhibition
You know, even after days later of sketching and making things on Procreate, my mind kept telling me this same phrases over and over again when I returned to drawing;
You’re not good enough.
That same phrase had kept me from pursuing a lot of things because I kept comparing my work and skills to people who were far ahead of me.
Comparison is cruel; it’s a knife that I kept turning onto myself often and I had thought about putting my stylus away.
Even though I could make things other people said were nice to look at, I didn’t believe I was good enough to keep up the practice.
That was the trap that I had to rewrite.
It was simple a simple idea to try, but it wasn’t easy to overwrite years of being told that:
- Art can’t pay bills.
- You don’t know how to draw.
- You suck.
Or well meaning things, like:
- You should make your own comics/animation/game/etc.
- Join a production.
- Go to school to learn more.
Those were just as damning because I was no closer to being the next best animator or part of a AAA gaming company.
Though, a different approach had to take this comparison’s place.
Instead of creating things and showcasing them like it’s a gallery exhibition, I started making things as archives of proof that I could make and finish projects.
Let Me Show You What I Don’t Know
If you look at the examples of the illustrations I’ve provided, then maybe you can visually see where my skills are at.
I don’t know how to use color palettes, I don’t know how lighting works, I try to use real life objects as my references (for example: my dice tray and 20 sided die), but shapes and line consistency were also a struggle, I have no clue how perspective works, and I have no idea how to make things look like neon signs.
That’s okay.
This is my returning point, not my highlight reel; no one asked me to make the sketches after my coworker’s request, I wasn’t being commissioned, and I’m not trying to “make it big” in an overly saturated creative market.
Sure, I made a Ko-fi account—the sketches provided here are what I’ve posted there along side my D&D ideas—but I wasn’t looking to monetize my work.
I have misunderstood many things in my life, Ko-fi being another thing to my list, but I learned that trying to force myself to rush and play catch up with other people’s highlight reels poisoned my work.
It’s a difficult thing to admit that I’m unfinished, but done is better than perfect or impressive.
If people like the simplicity, gallows humor, and functionality of my sketches, then by all means, thank you.
Regardless, I’ll keep on making things, just like how I run this blog: on my own, in the quiet hours of the night, when everyone else is asleep and my mind is running rampant, sometimes the things that come to mind provide enough inspiration to try out a new pen, color wheel, or even learn how to make actual shapes without free handing it.
This isn’t a comeback story.
It’s a marker — proof that I returned, even quietly.
