'Draw Something" and Drawing

I have always loved to draw. From the moment I could grasp a pencil, I was doodling on whatever paper I could find. My small muscle coordination was poor, but my enthusiasm was rich. My grandmother was a visual artist, and as soon as I could toddle, she cleared out a space in her studio that was mine. On weekends I would draw at a small table while she painted on her easel. She took me to museums and art galleries and talked to me about her influences.

All of this means I had an unusually rich art education throughout my childhood. I had the confidence to draw, the support and encouragement that it was worthwhile, and the praise to reinforce my own feelings of satisfaction with the exercise. I didn't stop drawing as a kid.

For most people, though, drawing is a childhood activity that ends around the age of 10, a number that came up repeatedly when I looked it up. My dark suspicion is that this is because we treat drawing as a talent rather than the skill that it is. Although some people have more inherent skill than others, this is true of any ability. Some kids are more quickly able to read than others, but we don't accept literacy as a matter of muse-inspired genius than is inborn.

And we know realistic drawing is not inborn. Art history tells us that. Representational drawing in three dimensions wasn't something that existed until the Renaissance, but that certainly wasn't because the painters prior to the Renaissance lacked talent. It was a matter of learned skill rather than innate ability.

In school, art is treated as a side dish to the main courses of reading, writing, and arithmetic. It is not rigorously taught, and so only those with some inner sense of visual language tend to excel. Around age 10, many kids decide that they're "not good at drawing" and they just kind of stop. After this, there is little incentive for kids who don't already receive praise, time, and space for drawing to start again. It's not seen as important by our broad culture, so it isn't afforded the same dignity as other activities understood to be worthwhile or at least to pay well.

As for my personal story, I went off to art school in 1997 with the intent to major in illustration. Like most kids who go to art school, I'd been one of the smaller group of high school students who still drew. At art school, every single person has retained an interest in the visual arts. It's a shock to be thrown into a pool where you go from "talented" to average. A number of kids dropped out after the first year. I dropped out in the middle of the second year when I got pregnant.

I never thought I'd stop drawing. Never. It was compulsory, something I did without even having to want it. And yet, as I had kids and found myself caught up in the vicious cycle of comparison (my drawings aren't that good - look at his!) it became easy to tell myself I didn't really have time to draw right now. Or space. Or headspace. Things I'd never needed before. I drew in the margins of papers I was writing, drew on napkins, in sketchbooks, on paper and canvas and wood and walls wherever I was, whenever I was. Now all of a sudden, I didn't have time.

I did have time. I'd just developed a latent case of fear. Fear of failure, fear of judgment, a sense that this thing I'd lived for wasn't really worthwhile. A sense that it was reserved for the talented, among whom I no longer numbered. What was more, I told myself, I'd never had much talent. I'd been OK, but I'd never have been great. As though greatness might be the only reasonable reason to pursue art.

Enter Draw Something. It's an app available for smartphones and tablets and it's become hugely popular very fast. You may play it. A lot of my friends play it. I started playing it. When I did, something weird happened. I got interested in drawing again.

I haven't seen so many adults regularly drawing in my life, but we're still trapped in a cycle of comparison. I was reluctant to start a game with one of my friends at first because he's much better at drawing than I am. But I quickly realized how silly that was. I love his drawings, and this was a chance to get them sent to me on a regular basis. His brilliant images challenge me to try new things with my own pictures.

I started posting my favorite drawings on Facebook. It's silly and a little egotistical, but it's felt so so good to be drawing again, even if it's with my finger on a screen, and I want to share what I'm up to. I love getting drawings back from my friends, too. People display a surprising amount of creativity in the ways they use the animation like qualities of the Draw Something display to reveal their word a clue at a time. I get to see different styles of drawing.

It's an app and it's silly and it's frivolous, but I am so excited about the possibilities it offers. I hope more and more people draw and share their drawings and let everyone know that it's OK. We're all learning. Most of us were never really taught how in the first place.