I once had an art teacher tell me that I should keep a keep a record of every piece of art I ever created, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The artwork I was proud of, and the artwork that I hated. At the time I never realized just how valuable a lesson that really was.
Of course, I didn’t always keep a record of my artwork and soon regretted it. I have vague memories of some early pieces I created, but I remember how I felt about creating them more than I remember the actual pieces of art.
But my teacher’s words stayed with me, and I was soon taking photos of all my paintings and drawings, and keeping all my sketchbooks. When I started sculpting, I continued to keep a record. I also started to keep a box of all the odd little clay pieces, experiments, and ornaments that weren’t quite good enough to sit on the display shelf.
What I didn’t realize was that keeping a record of all my artwork isn’t just about looking back at fond creative memories. It’s far more valuable than that. It’s like finding a box of forgotten treasure. It holds proof that we’re forever growing, changing, and moving forward. That the awkward first steps were worth it. Proof that growth is real even when we don’t always feel it in the moment.
I recently pulled out that box of old polymer clay pieces. A few pieces made me laugh because I remembered how proud I was of them at the time. Others made me cringe. But together they told a story that left me feeling warm and encouraged.
Many of us spend so much time trying to get better that we forget to notice that we already have. We rush forward, chasing a new idea or technique, and convince ourselves that we aren’t good enough and that we’re not improving. But if we slow down and take a look at what we’ve already achieved, we’ll see just how far we’ve come, and how much we’ve grown.
There was something satisfyingly encouraging about seeing my old artwork. The pieces held the energy, excitement, and frustration of my fist attempts and discoveries. The clay I pushed around with no plan. The colours I was learning how to mix - some of which turned to a muddy brown! The shapes I tried to form before my hands understood how to do it. These pieces reminded me that I never gave up, and I grew with every messy attempt, failure and success. Growth takes time, practice and the determination to never give up.
Looking back is not only about nostalgia. It’s a way for us to recycle inspiration. When we revisit old work with the skills we have now, new possibilities and ideas emerge. I’ve discovered old ideas that I had abandoned because at the time I couldn’t figure out how to create them and didn’t have the skills to do so. Looking at them now, I can see what is needed to bring them to life. Old ideas can become new again because we have grown.
I also pulled out a box of old sketchbooks, dating back years, which are packed full of ideas, sketches, scribbles, photos, and thoughts. There’s a wealth of creative ideas in those pages, and I’m sure I’ll be looking at them again, when in need of some creative inspiration!
As I looked through my sketchbooks and old clay pieces, I realised how many of my early pieces and sketches have guided me towards the work I create today. They taught me about texture, proportion, balance, and armature strength. They helped me understand what I enjoy and what I don’t. I can even see how my style started to develop and emerge.
This is why looking at past work can keep us on track. It reminds us of where we began, how far we have come, and shows us the patterns and themes we naturally return to. It pushes and drives us forward and makes us question how differently we would approach and recreate projects now, with our updated skills and experience.
It’s encouraging to know that all the awkward stages mattered. Every failed attempt and wonky piece taught me something. Every piece that broke and fell apart taught me how build stronger pieces later. It becomes easier to trust the creative process and enjoy the journey when you can look back and see how far you have come.
So, if you have old artwork tucked away somewhere, get it out and enjoy spending some time looking through it. Learn from it. You might find that it sparks new ideas and builds your confidence, or that it simply reminds you of why you started creating in the first place.
We spend so much time searching for fresh inspiration, but sometimes it is already there waiting in a box of forgotten pieces. Looking back helps us move forward with renewed energy. It keeps creativity playful, and is a good reminder that every stage, even the awkward ones, are part of what makes our current work possible.
