The Inner Critic of the Artist - Lucy van Ligten

The Illusion of the Inner Critic

The inner critic operates on a false premise: it treats art like a final destination rather than a continuous journey. It whispers two of the biggest lies in creativity:

“Why bother trying at all?”

“You aren’t as good as they are.”

But the critic is entirely blind to growth. It looks at a single moment on the canvas and declares a verdict, completely missing the momentum building beneath the surface.

About 15 years ago, I learned how to play again.

I recently painted a self-portrait with a small child version of me in the background. She’s about Grade Three—right around the age I first remember becoming aware that people were quietly judging art by how “good” it was. That’s when something in me began to tighten. Making marks stopped feeling like pure play and started to feel like something I had to get right.

When I look at her now, I can see where the inner critic first took root—not as truth, but as a voice I learned to carry. And I’m gently reminding myself that I don’t have to keep listening to it. I can come back to making the way I used to: curious, unguarded, and free.

Not in a polished, “serious artist” way—but in the small, quiet way I used to as a child: following texture, making marks, letting curiosity lead. It felt like meeting an older version of myself and a younger version at the same time. And with that return to play, the inner critic softened. I started to remember that art doesn’t have to prove anything to be worth making—it can simply be a place where I’m allowed to be free.

For me, this is something I’ve had to relearn. We can all relearn!

When I was little, I used to play at making pictures in the sand—arranging leaves, noticing textures, seeing everything as an opportunity to make a mark. Back then it was simple: curiosity, hands, surface, trace. But as I got older, I started to learn that art was a far more serious thing to so many people, and without even realising it, my experimenting dulled. Lately, I’ve been finding my way back to that childlike part of me again—and I’m choosing to embrace it. The part that doesn’t need to fit into mainstream art. It doesn’t need to please you, or anyone else. In a really satisfying way, it only needs to please me.

The Power of the Next Mark

Every time you defy that voice, something incredible happens.

Every brush stroke builds muscle memory and confidence.

Every roll of the brayer teaches you how the paint moves, how the layers interact.

Every pencil mark on paper bridges the gap between the unseen world of your imagination and the physical page.

You don't become capable before you create; you become capable by creating. The act of making art is the exact tool that expands your capacity to hold and express what your soul desires. The critic wants you to sand everything smooth and stay small, but creativity demands that you layer, experiment, and push past the boundaries of what you thought you were allowed to do.

A thought to hold onto: The inner critic speaks from fear, but your art speaks from soul. The critic thinks you have a ceiling, but every mark you make proves that the ceiling is just an illusion. Join me on a creative Journey.

This self portrait I painted at a time where the inner critic was also giving me a hard time over social media. At 62 I had no idea where to start and found it a learning experience. But here I am and I have told that inner critic ro sit in the corner again. ( he is behind the clock )

Background was gelliplate printed and collaged. Images were photogrpahed and gelliplate printed and collaged. I was painted in oild over top.