“Just the Tip” is a new series that will share a single, useful tip on a different topic each month (or thereabouts). Subjects will range from blogging and business to everyday life. I hope you find it helpful.
Late last year, right around the time I made a space-saving Christmas tree, I had a selection of my old projects printed and shipped to the studio.
That sounds a bit odd when I say it aloud, but I was feeling like I was slipping into a creative rut and wanted a way to assess the past year’s work more objectively. My plan was to have physical prints I could pick up, study closely, and lay out in a row—so I could clearly see what I’d already explored, what needed improvement, and which directions deserved more attention.
Once the prints arrived, though, they just sat in a pile on my desk—for months. It’s February as I write this, and I finally opened them.
I think I’d been avoiding the pile because I was nervous about what I’d see. I worried I’d be overly critical and only notice flaws, or worse, realize my work lacked cohesion and that I hadn’t grown since college.
Some context on the cohesion concern: a college professor I admired once told me my paintings looked “schizophrenic.” What she meant—though I didn’t hear it that way then—was that the ten or so paintings I’d placed on uneven easels for critique appeared to be painted by different people. She wanted me to pursue a stronger, more unified theme across pieces. At the time I heard only the harshness and felt crushed, but later I recognized the value in her point: cohesion matters. That lesson has stuck with me ever since.
Anyway, I finally sorted through the pile, laid everything out, and evaluated what I produced in 2016. There were clear hits, obvious misses, a few misses that felt like hits, and a lot of in-betweens.
I don’t like the in-betweens, so I tackled those first. Then I celebrated the hits, and faced the misses (which stung). Then there were the curious cases—the projects that hadn’t performed well according to metrics but still felt personally satisfying. Those felt like wins even when the numbers didn’t back them up.
Reviewing my work with a more objective eye felt surprisingly liberating. It lifted a weight and gave me clarity about what to carry forward and what to leave behind. It didn’t erase mistakes, but it turned them into useful information and allowed me to move forward with a fresh start.
So I’m a fan of objective self-evaluation. I wondered whether other people regularly take time to examine their past work—honestly, intentionally, and well after a project has been completed. During the process of creating we constantly ask ourselves if we like something, whether others will, and whether it serves a purpose. But what about revisiting finished work months or years later to pull yourself out of a rut? For me it worked better than I expected. If you’re stuck or feeling uninspired, laying your past projects out and assessing them objectively might be worth a try.