After spending the last week in Florida helping my mother-in-law pack up her home, it felt good to come back to my studio. Trips like that always seem to give me time to think, and one topic has been quietly brewing in the back of my mind.
How do we know whose advice to trust on our art journey?
I can remember after having my daughter while we were living in Las Vegas. I was searching for a way to feel like myself again. I had struggled with postpartum depression and sought therapy. During that time, my therapist urged me to find little moments for myself to create. She even encouraged me to sell digital downloads on Etsy.
I had never thought to do this before, and I was off to hours upon hours of research.
I learned that people sold a lot of digital assets on Etsy, and before long I became inundated with YouTube videos about how to be successful with print-on-demand. I had dabbled in Redbubble a little before but didn't see much traction. My thought was to build up my Etsy storefront first with digital sales and then, once we moved to Houston, begin my business as an LLC so I could properly collect taxes.
When I started watching those videos, I could feel how much of it began to feel like hype.
Some weren't even artists. They would buy stock art to produce products, or maybe use Canva to help them create designs. There were countless videos saying, “I made this much money,” or “I quit my job doing this.” Many were being paid by those companies to promote them, and I started noticing affiliate links and sponsored content everywhere.
I still find myself falling for people's hooks—even though I spent years studying marketing and worked in marketing departments.
Some are really good.
Some come off as genuine, but underlying, almost slyly, they're pushing the commercialization of their expertise, their knowledge, or their education. Sometimes they even seem to exaggerate or blur their qualifications a bit.
I'm not trying to say that all educators or art communities have this as their driving force. There are wonderful educators out there, and I truly believe artists should continue learning. But I found that so many conversations somehow innocently circled back to:
Join our membership.
Buy this course.
Follow me.
Click my affiliate links.
Looking back, I wish someone had encouraged me to stay more true to my own voice instead of feeling like I needed to create what would sell.
That was a constant struggle for me.
I always felt a little...ick...thinking about what would sell first instead of what I felt within me.
I'm not looking down on artists whose business model is different. I know there are artists who enjoy creating with the market in mind, and that's perfectly okay. I just realized that, for me, I wasn't happy feeling like I was always chasing the cheese.
I also wish I had understood just how saturated the market already was. Not because that should stop anyone from creating, but because it would have helped me focus less on chasing trends and more on developing my own work.
Even today, when I look at someone to really take them seriously, I ask myself different questions.
Are they actually making art?
How long have they been practicing?
What have they done in the field that relates to what I want to do?
I'm looking for artists first—not just marketers or content creators talking about art.
If someone constantly reminds me of their credentials every few videos, I'm a little leery. If every conversation somehow circles back to buying something, I'm a little leery.
That's just me.
I don't really enjoy the in-your-face educators who immediately tell you you're doing everything wrong. So much advice revolves around content, lighting, algorithms, or marketing strategies. Those things have their place, but to me they don't lean into the core of what the message is supposed to be.
I don't really want to go to retreats or conferences.
I'd rather find artists whose work genuinely resonates with me. Maybe someone whose style is similar to mine. Maybe a consultant I respect. I've found some wonderful artists on TikTok, Instagram, and even locally. I try to steer clear of the “get rich quick” groups and instead spend time with artists who simply enjoy making art.
I think advice is okay in small pieces.
As an artist, you create with intent—even if the intention is no intention.
I love hearing about technique. I enjoy conversations about mindfulness, materials, and experimentation. Those kinds of discussions inspire me to get back into the studio.
But I also think that when we focus on advice too much, we start comparing too much. We risk losing our voice. We risk losing what intuitively needs to come out without judgment or second-guessing.
Once that becomes muddied, it can be hard to bring back.
As an introvert, I crave connection online because I don't have a lot of artist friends in person. I genuinely enjoy seeing what other artists are making. It motivates me.
That is an important distinction.
There's a difference between finding inspiration and endlessly consuming advice.
Watching one more video is one less hour creating.
If I hope anyone takes anything away from this, it's simply this:
Don't be afraid to make the most random marks on a page, a canvas, or whatever material you work on.
Just get into flow and let it all go.
It is truly freeing.
And maybe, every once in a while, close YouTube, put the phone down, and spend that extra hour listening to your own creative voice instead.
