What Teaching Art Has Taught Me About Being an Artist

I always knew I wanted to teach and have a studio practice. Those two things never felt separate to me. They felt connected from the start, like different parts of the same conversation. Teaching didn’t feel like something that would pull me away from making. If anything, it felt like a way to stay close to it…to keep asking questions, to stay engaged, to build a life where art was just part of the day. What I didn’t expect was how much teaching would shape my work.

Not just in terms of time or structure, but in how I think about what I’m doing, how I look at things, how I move through a piece. Over time, the classroom and the studio stopped feeling like two different places. The conversations, the critiques, even the random hallway questions all started feeding back into my own practice. I’m not the same artist I was before I started teaching. And honestly, I’m glad.

One of the first things that shifted for me was realizing that you can’t just do the thing. You have to be able to say what you’re doing. You can’t just make something that works…you have to explain why it works. And that’s not always easy when your process is more intuitive.

But having to articulate it changes how you see it. You start paying attention to what you’re actually doing instead of just moving through it. And that carries over into everything else. Writing about your work, talking to people about it, even just figuring out what you want to do next…it’s something I still come back to. Just trying to put words to what I’m doing in plain language. No big statements, just clarity.

At the same time, teaching has a way of bringing you back to the basics over and over again. Composition, contrast, color, line. Things you think you’ve moved past. And then you’re in the middle of a piece and something feels off, and it’s usually one of those things.

I’ll catch myself standing there thinking, why isn’t this working, and then realize I ignored something really simple. It’s a good reminder that those foundations don’t go away. They’re still doing a lot of the work, even when you’re experimenting or trying something new.

Another thing I’ve noticed is how willing students are to just try things. Especially when they’re starting out. They don’t always have the same hesitation about whether something is “right.” They’ll mix things, make odd choices, follow something just because it feels interesting.

Watching that has definitely shifted how I approach my own work. It’s easy to fall into habits, to repeat what you know works. Teaching interrupts that a bit. It reminds you that there’s always room to try something you haven’t tried before, even if it feels a little off at first. Time is probably the hardest part of balancing both. Teaching takes a lot out of you. There are semesters where it feels like everything else gets pushed aside. That used to frustrate me a lot.

But it also changed how I use the time I do have. When you only have short windows, you stop waiting for the perfect stretch. You just start. You learn how to pick something up quickly, make a little progress, come back to it later. It’s not ideal, but it works…and sometimes that kind of pace leads to better work. You don’t have time to overthink everything. You just stay in it.

Critique has shifted a lot for me too. Teaching has made me more aware of how to talk about work without shutting it down. It’s easy to point out what’s not working. It’s harder to figure out what is working and how to build from that.

That carries into how I look at my own work. Instead of asking if something is good or not, I’m more likely to ask what’s holding it together and what isn’t. Where it has energy, where it falls flat. It’s a more useful way to move forward.

And then there’s the timeline piece. Watching students develop has really changed how I think about that. Everyone moves at a different pace. Some people find something right away, others take longer. Some start strong and shift, others build slowly over time.

It’s a good reminder that there isn’t one path through this. There’s no fixed timeline you’re supposed to follow. That’s been helpful for me, especially in the moments where I feel like I should be further along or doing something differently.

Teaching also keeps me from getting too comfortable. There’s always something I don’t know, something I need to look up, something a student asks that sends me down a new path. It keeps things moving. It keeps me paying attention, and it reminds me that I don’t have to have everything figured out. I’m not there to be the final word on anything. I’m there to be part of the process. That mindset carries back into the studio in a really helpful way.

Boundaries took me a while to figure out. Teaching can easily take over if you let it. For a long time, I did let it. I answered everything, said yes to everything, tried to keep up with all of it. Eventually I realized that if I wanted to keep making my own work, I had to protect that time. Not as an afterthought, but as something that mattered just as much. That shift made a difference. It’s still something I have to pay attention to, but it’s clearer now.

And maybe one of the biggest things teaching has brought back for me is the focus on process. Watching students get excited about a small moment in a piece, even if the whole thing doesn’t come together, is a good reminder of why we do this.

It’s easy to get caught up in outcomes. Whether something is finished, whether it fits, whether it will go anywhere. But a lot of the time, the most important part is just showing up and making something…and that’s still enough.

Teaching hasn’t taken me away from my work. It’s made me pay more attention to it. It’s made me more aware of how I’m working, more willing to adjust, more open to trying things. Some days it’s a lot. There are definitely days where I’m tired and my own work sits off to the side. But even then, there’s usually something from the classroom that sticks. A question, a comment, a moment that shifts how I see something, and that carries back into the studio.

So if you’re teaching, or thinking about it, or even just sharing your work with others in a more informal way, it doesn’t have to take you away from your practice. It might actually bring you closer to it in ways you don’t expect.