Paint without Panic!
Imposter Syndrome for Artists
You’ve got the supplies. Maybe even saved a few videos. A Pinterest board full of sunsets, and an album with even more! But something about that blank canvas—and the idea of making a mess—can hold even the most enthusiastic creatives back.
I’ve been there. And I’m here to tell you: oil painting doesn’t have to be scary. In fact, once you know a few basics and let go of perfection, it’s wildly fun, deeply expressive, and absolutely worth the plunge.
“If you hear a voice within you say, 'you cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”
– Vincent Van Gogh
Even after over a decade of painting, I still have pieces I avoid! Canvases I walk past for weeks. Ideas I love but don’t feel ready for. The feeling never fully disappears—it just changes shape. And when I finally sit down and face those artworks, they become the most healing. That’s the real gift of oil painting: it challenges your doubt and gives you something luminous in return.
Whether you’re a curious adult picking up a brush for the first time or a teacher thinking about introducing oils in the classroom, here’s everything you need to start without fear.
1. Start Small (Literally)
Grab a few small panels or canvases—5x7 or 8x10 is perfect. Paint studies. Waves. Sky gradients. A tree. You’re not building the Louvre, you’re building comfort.
Bonus: smaller canvases dry faster and use less paint, so you’ll feel less precious about experimenting.
That said—don’t stay small forever. Get a canvas that feels just a little too big. Be brave with space. You can always paint over it. If you work small for too long, you’ll train yourself to be cautious when you’re capable of being bold.
My mentor once said that we can burn it outside in the trash can it if it sucks. Keep going!
2. Get Just a Few Colors
You don’t need the full rainbow to start. A good limited palette teaches you more about mixing, warms vs. cools, and how color relationships work.
Try starting with:
Titanium White
Ultramarine Blue
Burnt Sienna
Cadmium Yellow (or a warm yellow)
Alizarin Crimson (or a deep red)
Add as you go. Trust me, you’ll learn way more with five colors than fifteen.
This was back when I thought storing paints like this would be helpful, but DO NOT DO IT. The paints all leaked and it created weird issues with all the caps. I do not recommend. I store all of my paints in a drawer now and will share photos in a later post.
3. Embrace the Ugly Phase
Every painting has an awkward adolescence. The stage where it looks like a muddy mess and you’re 90% sure you’ve ruined it. Don’t quit. Walk away. Let it dry. Then go back in with fresh eyes. Oil paint is forgiving—you can glaze, scrape, layer, and rework almost anything.
The more you push through the ugly, the more confident you become.
4. Use Student-Grade Materials (At First)
You don’t need $50 brushes and imported linen to make beautiful work. Winsor & Newton Winton oils, pre-primed canvas panels, and synthetic brushes are great for getting started. Focus on building your skills before you upgrade your studio.
5. Clean Up Can Be Simple
Oil paint clean-up doesn’t have to be toxic or overwhelming. Use:
Odorless mineral spirits for cleaning
linseed oil
Glass jars + brush-cleaning soap
Keep a rag or paper towel handy, and you’re golden.
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6. Let the Paint Teach You
The best way to learn oil is to paint. A lot. You’ll learn how long your paint stays wet. How to layer light over dark. How to build texture or blend buttery smooth. Each painting is a lesson—failures and all.
Some days it clicks. Other days it’s a fight. And both are normal.
There’s no single “right” way. The more you play, the more you find your way.
Final Thought: You’re Allowed to Suck for a While!
If you only take one thing from this post, let it be this: you don’t have to be good right away. You just have to start.
Oil painting is messy and magical. It’ll test your patience and then reward you with a moment of accidental beauty so good you’ll chase it for years.
So grab your brush. Ruin a canvas. Mix the wrong color. Paint anyway. You’re not behind—you’re just beginning.
And if there’s a piece you’ve been avoiding? Face it. Not because you have to fix it—but because you might find yourself in it.
And here’s a word worth reclaiming: amateur. It comes from the Latin amo, amare—to love. An amateur isn’t someone who lacks skill; they’re someone who creates for the love of it. That’s a powerful place to begin. To paint not because you’re perfect, but because you’re passionate. Because you care. Because you want to.
There’s something sacred in that.
