From Tom:

This post is one of my favorites not because I guest-wrote it, but because of how it resonated with readers. It is one of the most commented on post we’ve ever produced.

We encourage the arts in our children—as part of their play they are painters and musicians and sculptors and actors from preschool onward. But at some point, perhaps high school when education becomes more about focusing on a vocation, we stop playing in the arts. Many of us live our entire adult lives without playing artist again until we retire and rediscover this latent passion. From the comments we received, many of Susan’s readers fall into this pattern.

Sometimes the reason behind our exit from the arts is an unkind or thoughtless comment from a teacher, parent, or friend: art shaming, as I call it. I passed on a few examples of this phenomenon in the post, from Susan and myself and from a reader who commented on another post. This inspired a flood of similar experiences. Most of these stories end happily as the artist found their way back to the arts.

To read the many inspiring comments from that original “Art Shaming” post, Follow This Link and scroll to the bottom of the page.

To find other “inspirational” posts, look for the “Category” search option in the right hand column of this page or at the bottom of the post (if on a mobile device): select “Inspiration.”


For the next few weeks, Tom will be choosing some his favorite “inspirational” posts to revisit. This is so that I can spend my time with my mama Meta, (otherwise known as Oma), during her final days and hours. I am so lucky to be able, with my sister, to be present during this stage of her life. I hope you understand why we are unable to provide new content at this time. I will return as soon as I can. While a challenging moment in my life, and one filled with deep sorrow, I can’t imagine being anywhere else or doing anything other than being with my dear mama. —Susan C.


Art Shaming

Original Post from June 30, 2018

Many of you know that I am married to Susan and am a partner with her in the non-art, non-teaching aspects of her business. As her assistant I often field emails and address the ones that don’t need her personal touch.

Recently Susan received an extended response to her blog post “Why Color Is Irrelevant.” Susan’s post is about how value is more important than color when creating form. It stresses the important relationship between light and dark when using fabric to make images. Blog reader Cindee Andres, however, saw the piece from a slightly different angle, reminding her of a distressing childhood memory.

For a final project in art class, ten-year-old Cindee decided to make a yellow hippopotamus. This was unacceptable to the teacher, who insisted that the image be made “real” and demanded that Cindee “fix it.”

Happily Cindee refused to comply and didn’t make the hippo gray, even though she was denied her achievement badge for the project. Unhappily, the event sucked the joy out of creating her beautiful yellow hippo.

Says Cindee:

I had forgotten this exchange until I read Susan Carlson’s blog post on “Why color is irrelevant” just now, 46 years later. The problem I had as a 10 year old was not ignorance or inexperience; I knew what color a live hippo was. The problem was not that I was a rude and stubborn child who would not comply to reasonable requests. The problem was I could dream big, see things other than how they were, and had not learned yet to hide my knowledge and vision from the outside world. The lessons were harsh. 2 years later I was scornfully told by my own mother (who was herself a frustrated artist) to “stop wasting my time drawing.” I put down my pencil immediately and didn’t pick it up again for 40 years.

Twenty-six years later, Cindee started quilting, which re-introduced her to art and to her “wild artistic childhood self.” Quilting provided a back door, as I’m sure it does for many of Susan’s students, into the art world. Traditional quilts can be seen either as utilitarian or expressive, making them “safe” to produce and present to the world.

As an observer at many of Susan’s classes, I see many a student who claims they are “not an artist.” It seems to me that they use this phrase as a protective shield, proactively lowering expectations for their completed project. It makes we wonder how many of them have endured experiences like Cindee’s. What wounds are they reflexively covering up?

I like how Cindee stood up for herself despite the consequences, but I bet she is an outlier. I suspect that most children (and adults) suffer such criticisms silently, quietly setting aside their paints, or their clay, or their pens and pencils and never picking them up again.

Susan herself suffered a similar experience. When she was a teenager she played the guitar. She used to bring it on Girl Scout camping trips where they’d sing at the campfire. She knew a few chords for popular songs and she enjoyed singing with her friends. Then one day she played and sang for visiting family members, where laughter over either her playing or the song broke out. She pushed through to the end of the song, but then ended the session. Soon after, she gave up the guitar, and to this day she avoids sing-alongs like the plague.

In contrast, she never received anything but encouragement for her visual art. She took art classes throughout high school, went to an art college, and has practiced art continuously since, either as a hobby or a profession.

As for me, it was the lack of encouraging word that set back my artistic expression. As a grammar school student I loved to sing. Chorus was my favorite class. I had an ear for melody and could sing on key effortlessly. But I never received any encouragement for it. Neither my teachers nor my parents ever said, Hey, you did really good. You sounded nice. You should do more of that. In high school I wound up in band, playing clarinet, for which I had very little talent. So it’s only now, more than forty years later, that I am coming back to singing.

Our son, Sam, may have inherited his love of music from us, but he is not a fan of the visual arts. He produced very few pieces of art as a child. The few he made, like the butterfly above, we cherish and display proudly. No matter what we said to encourage him though, once he tried something like painting, once was enough.

Words—or the lack of them—have more power than we appreciate. I doubt that Cindee’s teacher or Susan’s family understood the impact their reactions would have. Neither do we fully understand how powerful our praise and support can be.

Susan says: “All art is good art.”

This sums up in five words what makes Susan a popular and effective teacher. This is why women return to her classes again and again, to receive and be replenished by that nurturing message.

When Susan says, “All art is good art,” I don’t think she means that all art is equally as accomplished or technically proficient. I think she equates “good” with “valuable.” Valuable to the person who makes it, as a mode of expression or as a learning opportunity or however. It takes a special talent to recognize and appreciate the value in a piece of art that you might not personally find appealing. Susan has it. I am still learning.

What I’m learning is that it’s more important to be encouraging and inspiring than it is to be critical and exclusionary. In short, a kind word is better than an unkind one. Criticism done correctly of course is not unkind. But it must be done carefully not thoughtlessly, as in the case of Susan and her guitar or Cindee and her yellow hippo. It can take decades to undo the damage.

As Cindee says:

Now 47 years later, I know color doesn’t matter. Being true to my vision does. As Susan Carlson reminded me value and balance are what make my art work. Her bold use of color reminded me that I have a yellow hippo in my past and it is time to free my artistic self from preconceptions and let it fly. I love color. Lots of color. Bright color. Unrealistic color. I will be told I am too much. My work is too strong. That it needs to be subtler. It needs to be more realistic. That I am not following the rules. Because really, things don’t come in those colors.

Unless you enter my world. . .

Thank you Susan Carlson for the memory.

Thank you, Cindee, for sharing your experience.


If you have an art shaming experience, please consider sharing it in the comments below.

25 Comments

  • I wanted to send my best wishes to your whole family at this sad time. You are still making memories.

    At school I was encouraged to do art, but gave it up when I left to get a job. At 21 and just married I applied to Art College and got in. My family found it strange! Though 2 brothers also do art successfully. Now my art comes out in my patchwork, which I also used to teach. Xx

  • Excellent post, and thank you. I continue to hold your family in my prayers during this transition of losing Oma.
    In first grade, I had the “art trauma” experience…Mr. Lieberman drew a vase shape on the board and everyone else dutifully drew a vase of flowers. I flipped it over and drew a woman with a pageboy hairdo. He tore my paper up in front of the class, and yes, it was years before I ever picked up a crayon again.

  • Dear Susan,
    You and your sister are giving your beloved mother the priceless gift of your presence at this time. May God bless you and your family.
    Gretchen

  • So very glad you can be with your Oma. There is no need for apology – you are exactly where you need to be. May these difficult memories be also treasured. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  • Thanks Tom, Susan and Cindee. This is beautifully written and so very true. The smallest words can cause large wholes in our hearts.

  • Your family will be in my thoughts and prayers. Through your posts, pumpkin page, and correspondence with Sam, I feel like I know Oma. Sweet Oma will be dearly missed.

  • Oh Susan, I know you and your sister will cherish your final time with your most precious Oma. Prayers of comfort for the entire family. I’ve often thought that when I leave these earthly surroundings, I would like to have a small piece of fabric in my fingers to remind me of all the fond memories that tied me to so many during my lifetime. Maybe Oma would like a little piece of pumpkin fabric in hers. Hugs from afar.

  • Dear Susan and Tom,
    What a hard time in life! But what a gift and honor it is to be able to care for someone at the end of theirs. I just went through this with my mom almost a year ago and am so grateful for the opportunity to be with her during that time. You both take care and I will be thinking of you and your family.
    Liz

  • Susan, I am so sorry to learn that Meta is so near the end of her path in life. She’s an original, long live Meta!

  • Bright light and blessings be upon you and your family during this metamorphic phase of life. Knowing that peace and love will prevail above all else. Namaste!

  • I am sending you lots of love and hugs as you travel with your mom on this last part of her journey. It is a challenging place to be in, my family is on that journey with my mom. Wishing you all much strength and love as you travel alongside your beloved mom.

  • To Susan and All your Family, Blessings to you all, as you journey with your dear Mom through this time to give her all the love and attention she has given you all through her amazing years. Sending love and peace, Bernadette Y

  • Dearest Susan,
    I know these final days will be a sharing of private moments ad you gather ad a family to be there for your dear Oma’s transition.
    My prayers and hopes are for these truly beautiful moments to be memorable for you all.
    I truly believe that in the quiet moments of memory you will still feel her love.
    Sincere sympathy,
    Grace and peace,
    Judy Shires

  • Susan and family,
    I wish you the best in the following days. Being able to be at your Mom’s side in her final journey is the best gift God has given you. To be able to support and give loving encouragement as she take her final step. These moments as sad and they are, will be some of the best moments you will have spend with her. You are lucky to have such marvelous memories and are able to cherish these follow days with her. I think God will find the best pumpkin patch for her to live in.

  • This is a precious time for your family. Being present for your mama at this time is more important for all of you than many people realize. I had the honor of being present for my grandparents, my parents, and a dear aunt. While those times were difficult and emotional, they were also some of the dearest. Sending thoughts and prayers for all of you.

  • Dear Susan, Tom and Sam,
    So very sorry that your beloved Oma is passing through her last earthly days. It is wonderful that you are all close by and can support her and each other through this difficult time. My prayers are with you.

  • Tender thoughts and wordless prayers as you are present at this holy time with your beloved mother (Oma). Wishing you a thankful heart for all your years together, and strength as you learn to continue with her memory, but not her presence! Martina

  • Take all the time you need at this delicate part of your family’s lives. Your support for your loved one during this stage of life is a blessing to them.

  • So sorry to hear about your Mama. ❤️ She seems like a wonderful Oma, and is fortunate to have such a caring and loving daughter to be with her at this time. May the final leg of her journey be rich and peaceful for you both.

  • Susan and family,
    You are doing what you need to do, and will never regret it. I took care of my Mother too at the end and you can be happy you had her for so long. Thoughts and prayers to all.

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