We don’t talk enough about how beautiful shitty art really is. You know — the wonky portraits where one eye is suspiciously high, the tree that looks like a fried egg, the sketch you did in 3 minutes that will never see an Instagram post. The stuff that makes you shrug or laugh and say, "Well, there’s that."
But here’s the thing you keep forgetting and need to remember: This kind of art might be the most important kind you ever make.
It doesn’t exist to impress.
It exists to free you.
Shitty art is practice. But not the kind that makes you clench your jaw or try harder. No. It’s the kind that loosens your grip. It’s showing up, every day, without the need to prove anything. It’s drawing a hundred imperfect lines just so your hand remembers what it means to move.
This is how you grow. Not by performing. But by allowing. Shitty art sparks ideas. Remember that weird little doodle from two weeks ago? The one that looked like nothing until it suddenly wasn’t? That’s the one that turned into a whole painting. That’s what happens when you let yourself play. Inspiration doesn’t always strike like lightning. Sometimes it seeps in — through cracks, through corners, through crumpled sketchbooks.
And maybe most importantly: Shitty art is play. And play is powerful. You forget that, sometimes. You take things seriously. You want things to be good. But joy matters more than polish. When you play, you remember why you picked up the brush in the first place. You laugh. You loosen. You come back to yourself.
So here’s your reminder: Draw the floating cat. Use the wrong colors. Paint with your eyes closed or your left hand or both. Let go of “good.” Let it be real instead. Because here’s the truth you already know: even the “shitty” art isn’t actually shitty at all.
It’s yours.
It’s honest.
And it’s leading you somewhere.
Keep showing up.
Keep making messes.
That’s where the magic is.
Thanks for reading,
See you in the next letter.
💛 Jolanda
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