...Mad About Drawing - part 2/2

PART - 2

In this two-part scroll, you’ll discover what it takes to learn how to draw, the true definition of drawing, the mindset needed for growth, and the answer to the question, ‘What is talent?

Jenny and Val: Un-Talented Stories

Jenny. 

My mum is a musician, a brilliant piano teacher, and she has perfect pitch. Once, she tutored Jenny. The challenge they both faced was that Jenny didn’t have good pitch—in fact, her pitch was really bad. But she had always dreamed of studying piano at a music conservatory.

Jenny started playing piano as a child. Many people, including music teachers, were seriously sceptical about her ability to ever play piano at all. But Jenny continued to persevere through her school years. When she tried to get into the conservatory, she failed. Her pitch let her down. She quit the piano and got a good job at a law firm. Yes, she was really good at law. But after a year or so, she quit—leaving everyone in shock, my mum included.

Jenny saved enough money and started working as a cleaner to have more time to continue her piano lessons. She spent two more years preparing for the conservatory exams. She even got a second private tutor to help improve her pitch. And you know what? She… she failed again, and then ‘again’ happened again. The funny thing was—she was a really good pianist. I mean it. She was good. Everyone who said she would never play piano was dead wrong.

Nevertheless, Jenny never got into the conservatory. Yes, her pitch was poor. Really poor. But she became quite good at playing piano. How’s that even possible? It’s possible because her ‘talent’ was her will to play piano, to never give up, and to work hard even when no one believed in her. She still plays piano, showing that determination is the real ‘talent.’

Val.

Val was an artist—a painter and also a graphite and ink artist. A damn good one. He had all the success you could dream of, and yes—money too. He was also an incredibly active person—he loved running, swimming… and driving fast.

One day, Val ended up in the hospital. A stroke. ‘No way!’ what we all thought back then. Val survived but was confined to a wheelchair. In a matter of days, his life took a 180-degree turn. He couldn’t paint anymore. But he told me he actually never liked painting that much, not since it became his money-making job. Ink and pencils were what he truly loved.

He was in his mid 60s when the stroke made his hands so shaky that he couldn’t even hold a glass of water. The man started learning to draw from scratch. Even doctors were sceptical about Val being able to hold a pencil, let alone draw. But Val had ‘talent.’

It took him quite a while until he managed (developed enough synapses) to hold a pencil again and then to produce beautiful, shaky lines. His new style was very different from the one before the stroke—totally different. But it was beautiful. Of course, he never exhibited again, never drove his sexy car, and never sold another artwork. But that wasn’t his goal. All he wanted was to draw again.

So why do some people never say a word about talent and seem to have it all, while others don’t even start because they believe they lack it? What’s the problem?

And the Problem is…

Addiction and rejection. Addiction to instant gratification. Rejection of reality—the reality that the brain needs time. The real problem is that people want everything now. Like—right now. I don’t know when or how it all started, but if you tell someone that “it takes time,” you might just cause a massive heart attack. People will protest — No, it can’t take time! Because we need it now!

As a result, when people start attending classes — any classes — they expect to achieve something significant in just one day. Ideally, in half an hour. And to make things worse, they want to have fun while doing it — sugar-coated instant gratification.

I get that — when you’re a baby, a child, the learning process starts as a game, a playful activity. But when you grow up, when you get into university, your lecturer doesn’t come out dressed like a clown. At least, mine didn’t.

I think we are witnessing a backward evolution—people’s attention spans have shrunk to match the length of TikTok or Instagram reels. Fewer and fewer people are reading books, while more and more complain about art block and a lack of talent. At the same time, people’s aspirations have skyrocketed, inflating disproportionately compared to their willingness to learn. These people don’t want to spend time on things they want to achieve if it takes more than a day… maybe a week.

No instant gratification, hard work, more hard work—that’s seen as a waste of time. It’s easier to say, “I’ve no talent.” Then everyone will give them a friendly pat on the shoulder, reinforcing their excuse by saying something like, “Yeah, leave it. Don’t waste your time. That’s not your thing anyway.”

This is Why

Remember those few lines from Wikipedia? Then let’s ask again: What is drawing? 

No, it’s not just drawing lines on water, smudging charcoal with toes, or using our faces to smear ink on the wall. No. 

The correct answer is: Drawing is a language. 

Just like English, Russian, Maltese, or Music… or Mathematics. Only drawing is a visual language.

So, generally speaking, how long does it take a person to master a language? It depends. It depends on what you need it for and how engaged you are. Your goals and determination come into play as well—your willpower, spirit, and courage. All this adds up to your so-called ‘talent.’

If you need to use a language only for paying for your groceries—a couple of months will do. If you want to watch telly—well, a bit longer—maybe a year. If you want to study, or have a good job—at least 8 hours a day, 7 days a week, for a year or longer. But if you want to play ping-pong with a language—it takes a lifetime!

All that being said—how can you master music, painting, or drawing in just an hour? Or a month-long course? You just can’t. But people refuse to accept this simple truth. 

Even if you could learn the technical aspects of drawing in a day, there’s still much more to it—feelings, ideas, stories, and emotions. Oh, of course—composition! That alone can easily take forever.

So, I say:

Drawing is a way to communicate what words sometimes cannot, a means to express the inexpressible, to connect with others without uttering a single sound.

Drawing is a language.

With all that said, do you really believe a YouTube video, an Instagram reel, or even a gazillion of them, can teach you that? Ask yourself—how can you write a book if you can’t read, speak, or understand a language?

The Painful Truth

Learning a complex skill like drawing or a language requires time because it’s a process of building and strengthening millions of neural connections. It’s not just about understanding a concept intellectually—it’s about physically rewiring your brain to perform that skill.

Mastery takes time because your brain needs repeated exposure and practice to build those strong, efficient connections. This is why there are no shortcuts—each level of any skill represents a corresponding level of brain development that can only happen with consistent, focused effort.

And yes, your reward is delayed gratification instead of an instant one. Yes, to achieve it takes longer—much longer. But it also tastes much, much better and stays with you forever. Forever. Plus, you gain unforgettable memories, experience, and solid knowledge—real, true, and deep knowledge. And during the process, if you don’t give up, you become stronger and better. You’ll also be proud of yourself.

If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself, and you’ll see.

P.S.: A Master’s Perspective

In case you still doubt that mastery—if not a lifelong pursuit, then at least a long journey—consider these words from Katsushika Hokusai, one of the greatest artists in history. He wrote this when he was around 75 years old:

“From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs. But all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy-five I’ll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At one hundred, I shall be a marvellous artist. At 110, everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokusai, but today I sign myself The Old Man Mad About Drawing.”

End of Scroll.