When I paint regularly, I find myself walking through the world a little differently.

I’ll catch myself muttering the paint colors I’d need to mix to match the deep green of a pine tree or the soft gray of a rainy sky. Sometimes, while waiting in line at the store, I notice the strange shapes created by the empty spaces between people.

It’s a shift in how I see the world.

One of my students, Rick, captured the challenge of this beautifully when he wrote to me:

“I am still having a difficult time accepting the real difference between looking and seeing. I know I can realize it when I take the time to see, and when I take the time it has a definite positive impact on my drawing. But like so many things in my control, it is a conscious choice that I must make every time I sit down to draw.”

His question is simple but powerful: Can training make the artist automatically see, or does it remain a conscious choice for the artist?

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My answer? With practice, it becomes your default.

When I draw and paint consistently, I naturally start cataloging colors, proportions, and shapes without even trying. I imagine sketching people on the train or take mental notes of light and shadow across a café table. Seeing transforms from a conscious effort into a habit.

This is the real secret to becoming a better artist. Tutorials can be fun (“How to Draw a Cat” or “How to Paint Clouds”), but they often give us a false sense of progress. You come away able to draw that one thing, but without the tools to draw anything you want.

If you want real progress, you need to train yourself to see.

That’s the foundation. And once you learn to see, you can draw or paint whatever is in front of you.

Here are five steps to help you get there.

Step 1: Train Your Eyes to See

Here’s the thing: you don’t actually see everything around you.

Your eyes take in millions of bits of information every second, but your brain can only process a fraction of that. To cope, it filters: filling in gaps and simplifying reality into familiar symbols. That’s why kids draw a house as a square with a triangle roof, or why we sometimes miss details even when they’re right in front of us.

Drawing asks us to reverse that autopilot. Instead of drawing what we think we see, we need to notice what’s actually there: the slope of a nose, the exact angle of a chair leg, the way shadows shift across a wall.

This isn’t a modern discovery. Artists throughout history have developed exercises to train their eyes. Leonardo da Vinci filled notebooks with observations of plants, anatomy, and water in motion. He believed that an artist must become a student of the world, noticing the tiniest details others overlook.

In the 20th century, Josef Albers at the Bauhaus made his students focus on color interactions: teaching them that perception itself could be trained. Similarly, artists like Betty Edwards (Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain) popularized exercises such as contour and blind contour drawings to help students break out of “symbol drawing.”

Just like musicians practice scales to warm up, artists can train their eyes with exercises:

• Contour drawings: Slowly trace the edges of objects with your pencil, training your hand to follow your eye.
• Blind contours: Do the same, but without looking at the paper. (It feels awkward, but it builds attention.)
• Gesture drawings: Capture the essence of a pose in 30–60 seconds; speed forces clarity.
• Value studies: Focus on light and dark instead of outlines.
• Negative space drawings: Instead of drawing the object, draw the space around it.

Try this: Before your next studio session, spend 5–10 minutes on one of these. It will feel like stretching before a workout: small effort, big payoff.

Step 2: Be Focused

Not all practice is created equal.

Psychologist Anders Ericsson, who studied expertise across many fields, coined the term deliberate practice: the kind of practice that leads to true improvement. It’s not about drawing mindlessly for hours. It’s about drawing with intention.

Take Edgar Degas, for example. He filled stacks of sketchbooks with studies of dancers. He wasn’t just doodling; he was deliberately focusing on posture, weight, and movement. Each sketch sharpened his ability to capture fleeting gestures.

Deliberate practice looks like this:

• You set a clear goal (e.g., “Today I’ll focus on shading”).
  You push just beyond your comfort zone.
• You reflect and adjust based on what you see.

Even 15 minutes of this is more valuable than an hour of distracted drawing.

This is why I created my 3-day challenge Drawing Drills, for free. I want you to focus on something specific and actionable and see how you can improve when you start to train your eyes to see. I’d love to see you inside the free challenge, which is linked below.

Try this: Next time you sit down, set one intention: “Today, I’m only focusing on proportion.” Afterwards, write a short note about what you noticed. (And I want to pause a moment to emphasize this: we totally want to skip reflecting, but that reflection cements the learning.)

Step 3: Get Uncomfortable

Here’s the truth: growth often feels awkward.

If drawing always feels easy, you’re repeating skills you already have. To improve, you need to step into discomfort, because discomfort means your brain is building new pathways.

Think of Paul Cézanne, who once said he wanted to

“treat nature by the cylinder, the sphere, the cone.”

Instead of drawing fruit bowls in a polished, realistic style, he broke them down into clumsy, geometric forms. It was uncomfortable, even radical, but it reshaped modern art and trained him to see structure beneath appearances.

For you, discomfort might mean:

• Drawing a subject you avoid (hands, feet, or buildings).
• Drawing in public.
• Using a new medium that feels unfamiliar.

It is important to find a sweet spot of discomfort, where you don’t feel so stretched that you want to give it all up but you do feel challenged. Pushing too hard, which can be a problem for perfectionists, which actually slow your growth and learning.

Next time that voice in your head says “I can’t do this,” remember that’s the sign you’re on the edge of growth.

Try this: Choose one subject you’ve avoided and draw it three times this week. Don’t chase perfection: focus on what each attempt teaches you.

Step 4: Get Feedback

We all have blind spots in our work.

Maybe we consistently make heads too big, or always flatten shadows instead of rounding them. Alone, it’s easy to miss these patterns.

That’s where feedback comes in. A teacher, mentor, or even a trusted peer can point out what you’re overlooking. Feedback short-circuits your brain’s autopilot and forces you to see in new ways.

Feedback helps us see what we’ve been missing.

Michelangelo himself sought feedback: he studied ancient sculptures obsessively, measuring and sketching them to check his own proportions. Even masters look outside themselves to sharpen their vision.

And it doesn’t have to be formal. You can compare your drawing with your reference photo, flip your sketch upside down, or even step back and view it from across the room. These are all ways of giving yourself a fresh perspective.

Today, feedback can come from many sources:

• A teacher or mentor.
• A trusted peer group.
• Comparing your drawing with your reference photo.
• Flipping your sketch upside down or holding it up to a mirror.

Each of these gives you a fresh perspective.

Try this: After your next drawing, step away for 24 hours. Then look again. With fresh eyes, you’ll spot things you missed before.

Step 5: Be Patient

This might be the hardest step.

I once had a student who desperately wanted her portraits to improve in just two weeks (I know you’re watching this and I see you, wink wink). And to be fair, she did make progress. But she was disappointed that her work didn’t yet match the high standard she envisioned.

Here’s the thing: skill takes time.

Even Vincent van Gogh, whose art feels so raw and immediate, was relentless about practice. Before painting his famous works, he spent years sketching hands, heads, and simple objects, filling notebooks with studies. His early drawings weren’t remarkable. His patience and persistence made them so.

Learning to draw literally rewires your brain.

Sometimes the gains come in sudden bursts, where everything clicks and feels effortless. Other times, it feels like you’re trudging through mud. Both are part of the process.

I’ve had students tell me they got headaches from concentrating on details, and I believe it! Your brain is building new connections. That kind of growth takes energy.

Patience isn’t passive: it’s an active choice to keep showing up, even when it feels slow. And when you do, those tiny improvements compound into something remarkable.

Try this: Do periodic drawing assessments. I talk about them here (linked below). It becomes a way to document your growth and compare yourself to the one person you should compare yourself to: the earlier version of you!

The Bottom Line

Getting better at drawing isn’t about shortcuts or quick tutorials.

It’s about building habits that change how you see the world.

• Train your eyes with regular practice.
• Focus deliberately.
• Step into discomfort.
• Seek feedback.
• And above all, be patient.

The great artists knew this too. Leonardo trained his eyes on everything from birds to rivers. Degas honed his focus on dancers. Cézanne embraced discomfort by breaking fruit into cubes. Michelangelo learned from sculptures older than himself. Van Gogh filled sketchbooks with practice before painting his masterpieces.

They all shared one thing in common: they learned not just to look, but to truly see.

And once you learn to see, you can draw and paint anything.

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