I Hate My Drawings: Why That Feeling Can Mean Progress

Updated on 02/09/2026 by Rita Moreira

If you have ever opened an old sketchbook and thought, “I hate my drawings”, I want you to pause before you throw the page away. That reaction can be uncomfortable, but it often means your eye has become sharper than it was when you made the drawing.

I see this with my own drawings too. A piece that once felt good enough can suddenly show every weak shadow, flat edge and uncertain proportion, because my perception has moved on.

Why do I hate my drawings now?

Hating your drawings now usually means your artistic perception has grown faster than your hand. You can see proportion, light, shadow and detail more clearly than before, so older work looks clumsy by comparison. The drawing has not become worse. Your eye has become more demanding, and that is a normal part of learning realistic drawing.

When I compare an older portrait with a newer one, the first thing I notice is not usually the whole face. I notice a jaw that is too sharp, a cheek shadow that stops too suddenly, or an eye that was copied from memory rather than observed from the reference.

That is why the feeling can peak just after a period of improvement. You have practised enough to recognise the problem, but not always enough to correct it automatically yet. That gap between taste and skill is awkward, but it is also useful.

If the thought becomes “I hate my drawings” every time you sit down, treat it as information, not a verdict. Ask what exactly you hate: the proportions, the values, the texture, the expression, or the style. A vague dislike freezes you, while a named problem gives you the next exercise.

Why did my old drawings look good before?

Old drawings looked good before because you judged them with the perception you had at that stage. At the time, your mind filled in missing detail from memory, and your eye accepted a more general version of the subject. Later, after more practice, the same drawing reveals what you could not yet see.

In realistic drawing, this happens most clearly with references. Your brain wants to simplify a face into “an eye”, “a nose” and “a mouth”. On the paper, that simplification becomes symbols instead of observed shapes.

I think of it as a movement between the more analytical and the more creative sides of attention. I would put it very practically: while I draw, I need the absorbed state that lets me build the image, but I also need to step back and inspect it. Both modes matter.

This is why I keep the reference beside the drawing, not somewhere across the room. If the reference is close, I can check the angle of a nostril, the length of a shadow or the distance between the eyes before the mistake becomes part of the whole face. You can read more about this eye training in drawing what you see.

Is hating my drawing style the same as improving?

Hating your drawing style is not always the same as improving, but it can be a clue. If you dislike your style because you can name what is missing, you are probably developing. If you dislike it only because someone else’s work looks more polished, you may be comparing without diagnosis.

There is an important difference between “my shading is too flat” and “my art is terrible”. The first sentence points to value control, edges and observation. The second sentence gives you nowhere to go.

The mistake I see most in students is that they compare their first honest attempts with finished work from artists who have already solved hundreds of small problems. That comparison makes every line feel wrong. It is more useful to compare your drawing with your own drawing from one month ago.

If the technical problem is that everything looks flat or out of proportion, start with a diagnosis rather than a new style search. This guide on why drawings look bad separates common causes such as weak values, symbolic shapes and poor reference use.

What should I do this week if I hate my art?

If you hate your art this week, do not start by changing everything. Choose one older drawing, redraw it from the same reference, and compare both versions with a calm eye. The point is not to produce a perfect piece. The point is to make progress visible and specific.

Here is the simple exercise I would give a student who came to me with this exact frustration:

1. Choose one old drawing you dislike, preferably a face, hand or object from a clear reference.
2. Place the old drawing, the reference and a blank sheet side by side.
3. Mark three issues in the old drawing: one proportion, one shadow and one edge.
4. Redraw only those three decisions before worrying about the whole picture.
5. Write one sentence at the end: “Today I saw…” and name the improvement.

This exercise works because it turns dislike into observation. When I blend a cheek or soften a cast shadow, I do not want to think, “good” or “bad” too early. I want to ask whether the value transition on my paper behaves like the one in the reference.

Keep a progress folder as well. Not a public portfolio, not a performance, just a dated folder of scans or phone photos. When you feel stuck, look at the sequence from oldest to newest and notice what your eye now catches faster.

If you need a broader plan, use how to get better at drawing as the next step. If the issue is consistency, pair it with how to practise drawing, because practice only helps when it has a clear purpose.

How can I tell progress from harsh self-criticism?

You can tell progress from harsh self-criticism by the level of detail in your judgement. Progress sounds specific: “the left eye is too high”, “the neck shadow is too pale”, “the hair mass has no large shape”. Harsh criticism sounds final: “I am bad at this”.

Use this table when you review a drawing before deciding what to do next:

Notice that every useful reaction becomes an action. That is the habit to build. A finished drawing is not only an object to judge, but also a record of what your eye could perceive on that day.

I often tell students not to erase every trace of difficulty too quickly. A corrected line teaches you something. A page that shows the path from guess to observation can be more valuable than a page that looks tidy but was never really examined.

Why does my motivation disappear after I notice mistakes?

Your motivation can disappear after you notice mistakes because the reward has changed. At the start, simply finishing a drawing feels satisfying. Later, your eye asks for more: better edges, closer values, cleaner proportion and a stronger likeness. That higher standard can feel like failure until you learn to use it.

This is the moment when many people stop practising. They think the pleasure has gone, when really the task has become more precise. You are no longer only making a drawing. You are learning to see.

In my own work, I need small checkpoints to avoid turning one drawing into a trial. I finish one area, step back, compare it with the reference, and choose the next correction. That rhythm is kinder and more useful than staring at the whole page until everything feels wrong.

If the problem is not the drawing itself but the energy to begin, read no motivation to draw. The answer is different when the hand is tired, the eye is discouraged, or the goal is too vague.

Does better material help when I hate my drawings?

Better material can help a little, but it will not solve unclear observation. A smoother paper, a good graphite pencil and an eraser (rubber) that lifts cleanly can make corrections easier. They cannot decide the proportion of a face or the direction of the light for you.

For UK readers, this is one place where local availability is useful. Derwent notes its pencil heritage from 1832 and its Lake District manufacturing roots on its company story, while the V&A describes drawing as a collection area spanning over 14,000 European drawings and sketchbooks in its drawing collection. Those details matter because drawing is both a practical skill and a long material tradition.

If you are replacing basic supplies, buy modestly: graphite pencils, smooth drawing paper and a reliable rubber are enough for this exercise. You can find suitable materials at Jackson’s Art, Cass Art or Hobbycraft, and Amazon.co.uk is a plain practical option when you already know exactly what you need.

Can I improve if drawing does not feel natural?

You can improve even if drawing does not feel natural, because realistic drawing is trained perception as much as talent. Some people start with a good instinct for proportion, but everyone still has to practise looking, comparing, correcting and repeating. Skill grows when practice gives your eye better information.

This is why I do not treat an old drawing as proof of a fixed limit. It is a snapshot of a stage. The fact that you now see more faults means you have more information than you had before.

If you worry that drawing is only for naturally gifted people, this article on whether drawing is a talent or a skill will help you put that fear in the right place. Talent may make the start smoother, but it does not replace observation.

The useful question is not “Do I like this drawing?” The useful question is “What can I see now that I could not see before?” When that answer becomes clearer, your drawings have already started moving forward.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why do I hate my drawings after I improve?

You hate your drawings after improving because your eye has become more accurate. You can now see proportion mistakes, weak shadows and stiff edges that were invisible to you before.

That does not mean the old drawing lost its value. It means it belongs to an earlier stage of your perception. Keep it, date it and use it as evidence that your taste is becoming more precise.

If you can name one fault clearly, you are not moving backwards. You are learning to see the page with better information.

What should I do when I hate my drawing style?

When you hate your drawing style, first separate style from skill. If the problem is flat shading, uncertain proportion or copied symbols, you are looking at a technical issue, not a style crisis.

Choose one small correction for the next drawing instead of changing everything. Style becomes clearer when your decisions become more deliberate: where you soften an edge, where you leave texture, and how closely you follow the reference.

Save style questions for after the basic structure is honest. A personal look is easier to recognise when the drawing itself is not fighting avoidable mistakes.

Should I redraw old work or start something new?

You should redraw old work when you need to see progress clearly. Use the same reference, correct three specific problems, and compare the two versions without expecting perfection.

Start something new when the old drawing is too emotionally loaded or the reference is poor. The aim is not punishment. The aim is to give your eye a fair test and your hand a practical next step.

If you redraw, limit the task. One face, one hand or one object is enough to show whether your observation has changed.