Why starting imperfectly helps you grow

I made these crucial watercolour mistakes so now you don’t have to…
If I started over today, I would do these 5 things…

Titles like these are everywhere on YouTube, social media, and other channels, promising to reveal something that will skyrocket your progress. I’m guilty of looking for shortcuts myself, hoping there’s some secret ingredient that will make me better instantly.

While I absolutely value learning from others, most of the time it’s not a lack of knowledge that slows us down – it’s a lack of practice. And sometimes we forget that making mistakes isn’t delaying progress; it’s actually a very important part of it.

I remember my first painting lesson with a teacher when I was preparing for entrance exams to art academy. I had to learn academic still life painting. On that first lesson, she asked me to paint the still life purely based on my intuition.

When I painted a red cloth, I carefully mixed red with black for the shadows and red with white for the lighter areas. I was genuinely proud of how well I thought I’d matched the colours. My teacher didn’t say anything. She simply said that the next day we would try a different approach.

The following lesson, she showed me something completely unexpected. For the shadow areas of that same dark red cloth, she suggested bold strokes of green, blue, even purple. For the light areas, she introduced yellows and turquoise. She helped me see colours that weren’t obvious at first glance, colours that, when exaggerated on paper, made the painting feel much more alive and, surprisingly, even more real.

When I compared the new painting to the one from the day before, the difference was almost painful to witness. The second painting had energy, depth, and vibrancy. It felt alive.

But here’s the interesting part: what was the benefit of “wasting” that first lesson painting it the ‘wrong’ way?

I truly believe that painting it the first time made the second – the ‘better’ approach click with me. If I had simply followed instructions from the start, I’m not sure I would have appreciated the difference as deeply. By comparing the two, I felt like I had solved a real problem and that learning stayed with me.

Our brains often engage more actively when we’re trying to solve a problem rather than just following instructions without context. Many education systems use this approach. For example, students are sometimes introduced to a question before the lesson itself, so their minds are already searching for answers as they learn.

Painting works in a similar way.

If you try to learn everything before even picking up a brush, a couple of things can happen. First, you might feel discouraged when, after watching countless tutorials or reading books, your work still doesn’t look the way you hoped. It’s easy then to assume you lack talent, but that’s simply not true. Knowing theory and developing skill are two very different things.

Second, you miss the chance to give your brain a real problem to solve. When you experiment first, you start noticing things. You might look at another artist’s work and wonder what they did differently. You might follow a tutorial and suddenly have an “aha” moment. That kind of learning sticks much better because it’s active, not passive.

And during those experiments, you often discover little things that become part of your own style. You’re learning from others, yes, but you’re also bringing something uniquely yours.

So with all that said, I want to encourage you to simply start painting.

No expectations. Just put paint on paper. And when you face a challenge, because you will, that’s the moment to look for answers.

That’s where real progress begins.

Happy painting!