I went to Santa Fe to see great art (It almost made me quit.)

When I first started making art I drove to Santa Fe to see what I thought would be the best art in the country. Gallery after gallery on Canyon Road. All of it technically flawless. And the longer I looked at it the smaller I felt. Then almost by accident I wandered into a museum that changed everything. What I found there taught me the one thing no technique can ever give you and why your best art is ready right now, exactly as you are.

______________________________________

 

The Museum That Changed Everything I Thought I Knew About Art

When I first started making art I drove to Santa Fe.

I wanted to see the best. Gallery after gallery on Canyon Road. Painting after painting, all of it technically flawless, all of it made by people who clearly knew exactly what they were doing.

And the longer I looked at it, the smaller I felt.

I couldn’t paint realistically. Technically I wasn’t so good yet. I knew I wanted a life in this and I felt sorely behind, like everyone else had a head start I could never make up.

Then almost by accident I wandered into a museum that changed everything.

 

 

Canyon Road and the Weight of Comparison

Before I tell you what I found, I want to sit with that feeling for a moment. Because I think a lot of artists know it.

You walk into a gallery or open an art book or scroll through the work of someone you admire and something happens. The work is extraordinary. Technically accomplished. Beautiful in ways that feel completely out of reach.

And instead of being inspired you feel smaller.

That gap between where you are and where you think you should be can be completely paralyzing. It whispers that you’re behind. That you don’t belong here. That everyone else somehow got the memo you missed.

I felt all of that walking Canyon Road. Gallery after gallery, painting after painting, that quiet voice getting louder with every room I walked through.

And then I turned a corner and wandered almost by accident into the Museum of International Folk Art.

What I Found Inside

The Museum of International Folk Art houses traditional work made by people from cultures all over the world. Some you’ve heard of. Some you haven’t. Most of the makers were never formally trained.

And a lot of that work stopped me in my tracks.

It moved me to the core in a way that nothing on Canyon Road had. Something in me became unblocked. I stood there in that museum feeling something I hadn’t felt in hours of walking those galleries.

It took me years to fully understand why.

 

Folk Art Has No Rules

Here’s what I eventually came to understand about what I experienced in that museum.

Folk art has no rules. It’s made by people for people. Some trained, mostly self-taught. Nobody in that building was trying to build a career or impress a gallery or position themselves in the art market.

They were using art the way you’d use a song. Or a dance. Or a prayer. To express the thing that needed expressing. That was the whole point. That was the only point.

And here’s what hit me most.

Some of it was technically wrong. Weird perspective. Found materials. A dog that didn’t quite look like a dog.

And it was still the most moving work in the room.

Because the maker wasn’t painting what a dog looks like.

They were painting what a dog feels like.

And that feeling didn’t come from training. It came from a life. From what they’d seen and what they’d loved and what they’d carried.

 

The One Thing No Technique Can Ever Teach You

I’ve been thinking about this ever since that day in Santa Fe. And I keep coming back to the same realization.

The most moving art is almost never the most technically accomplished art.

What moves us is feeling. The sense that a human being made this from somewhere real and true and specific to their own experience of being alive. The sense that something is being communicated that couldn’t have been communicated any other way.

And that feeling doesn’t come from technique. It can’t be learned from a class or refined through practice or perfected over time. It comes from life. From the accumulation of everything you’ve seen and felt and carried.

That’s the one thing no technique can ever teach you. And it’s the thing we actually remember.

I’ve always loved what Maya Angelou said. People don’t remember what you say. They remember how you made them feel. And it’s just as true for art. People don’t remember what they saw. They remember how you made them feel.

 

You Don’t Have to Wait Until You’re Ready

Here’s what I want you to take from all of this.

If you’ve been waiting until you’re better, until you’ve learned more, until you’re finally good enough, hear this.

You don’t have to wait.

The expertise will come. It always does with time and practice and showing up. But the life you’ve already lived is yours right now. Today. This moment.

Your best art isn’t waiting for you on the other side of more technique. It’s waiting for you on the other side of more honesty. More willingness to paint what things feel like rather than what they look like. More courage to put down what’s true rather than what’s correct.

That’s always been available to you. It was available to every untrained maker in that museum in Santa Fe. And it’s available to you right now before you feel ready.

Make the thing that only you can make. Before you’re ready. That’s when it matters most.

 

A Story That Comes Full Circle

This November I’m taking a group of artists back to that same museum in Santa Fe.

We’re going to stand together in front of the work that had nothing to prove. The work made by people who weren’t trying to build careers or impress anyone. Just expressing the thing that needed expressing.

And then we’re going to go make something of our own. With more potency. More authenticity. More emotion.

The Santa Fe retreat begins November 15th. It’s the first ever Art2Life retreat on American soil and there are limited spots remaining.

If you’ve been waiting for permission to take your art seriously, standing in that museum might be the most powerful permission you’ll ever receive.

Click here to learn more about the Santa Fe retreat and save your spot.

 

Now It’s Your Turn

What’s the most moving piece of art you’ve ever stood in front of? Was it technically accomplished or was it something else entirely that stopped you in your tracks?

Share it in the comments below. I’d genuinely love to know what art has moved you most and why.