The Most Important Things I’ve learned About Art
In my younger days I worked blue-collar jobs and didn’t have the benefit of formal art education beyond being an art major in high school. To be honest, I didn’t take school very seriously back then. So in my twenties, I painted daily, but as life got busier and children arrived, my love for art took a backseat to more pressing responsibilities.
When you’re working 12-hour days in the oil fields or driving 3,000 miles a week cross-country in a truck, there’s little time to pick up a brush. Life doesn’t wait for inspiration. But everything changed when, at the age of 55, a major medical issue put an abrupt stop to my career. Suddenly, I found myself with something I hadn't had in decades: time.
At first, the boredom was overwhelming. Then, after a couple of years, I thought maybe I could channel that time into something creative—something like graphic design.
At 57 years old, I was sitting in a classroom listening to a lecture on the rules of design when my instructor said something that forever changed my perspective on art. She explained that the most important reason to learn the rules of design was to understand how to break them—properly.
That piece of wisdom made me smile at the time, but as I reflected on it over the next year, it began to feel much larger. That advice didn’t just apply to graphic design; it applied to art in general—and even to life itself.
Lessons in Critique
During my time as a student, critique became a significant part of my routine. Three days a week, I was critiqued, and I critiqued others in return. Here’s what I learned:
Nobody really likes having their work picked apart. It’s uncomfortable.
Most people won’t be entirely honest when critiquing a friend’s work. They’ll sugarcoat their feedback to spare feelings.
Not all opinions are equal. A good critique isn’t just about pointing out flaws; it’s also about defending your artistic choices.
In the beginning, as a photographer, I would show my work to friends, and they’d say things like, “Wow, I love this!” But deep down, I knew their feedback wasn’t entirely objective. They cared about me too much to risk hurting my feelings. I appreciated their kindness, but I also knew it wasn’t helping me grow.
So, I turned to social media groups and started connecting with other artists. That’s when I encountered an entirely different kind of feedback.
“Isn’t That Cheating?”
One comment I heard repeatedly in those early days was, “Oh, you use Photoshop? Isn’t that cheating?”
I’ve heard it so often that I developed a go-to response:
“You mean like how Ansel Adams, one of the greatest photographers in history, spent days altering his images in a custom darkroom? Adams, who famously said, ‘You don’t take a photograph, you make it.’ The same Adams whose iconic photo Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico was taken in the afternoon and heavily edited with meticulous burning and dodging techniques?”
Here’s the truth: if Ansel Adams had access to modern tools like a DSLR, a computer, and Photoshop, he would have embraced them fully. His genius wasn’t defined by the limitations of his time but by his ability to push boundaries and reimagine what was possible.
There Are No Rules
This brings me to the most important thing I’ve learned about art: there are no rules.
Sure, rules can be helpful—they can guide you, teach you techniques, and help you build a foundation. But their ultimate purpose isn’t to restrict you. Their purpose is to give you the knowledge and confidence to break them in meaningful ways.
This philosophy is what originally drew me toward mixed media art. I wanted to break free from traditional categories and explore the spaces where painting, photography, and digital art overlap. By combining these mediums, I discovered a way to create unique pieces centered on common subject matter.
For me, mixed media is about freedom—about blending tools and techniques to bring a vision to life in ways that feel limitless. Some of my favorite works come from extending a photograph with paint, blending it seamlessly to the edges of the canvas, or transforming tones with alcohol inks to evoke entirely new emotions. These aren’t just “pictures” or “paintings”—they’re something entirely their own.
Art is about pushing boundaries, exploring possibilities, and finding your own voice. It’s about not listening to the purists who say, “You can’t do that,” or “That’s not how it’s supposed to be done.”
Because in the end, art isn’t about following rules—it’s about breaking them beautifully.