A Review of ‘Art & Fear’ by David Bayles and Ted Orland

     I suffer from a condition where there are paintings trapped inside my head. Not just paintings actually; drawings, exhibitions, articles and essays. They’re all waiting to be freed when my paintbrush touches the canvas or I bring pen to paper.

     It is a particularly painful condition. It pains me late at night, early in the morning, when I’m watching a film or in the middle of dinner with friends.

     The book ‘Art & Fear’ by David Bayles and Ted Orland is a very effective remedy to my condition, written by two artists who also suffer from it and understand its intricacies. It is a book for- and about- artists, and the perils and rewards of art-making. The most ironic element of my writing this book review is that I have been thinking about writing it for weeks, if not months. This is my condition in a nutshell; my condition has had me procrastinating for weeks to write about the book about my condition.

     Arguably, the book’s only fault is that it itself is a distraction from making art. The time spent reading the book could be spent making art. But only upon reading the book does one realise the necessity of making art. Therefore the book actually has no faults.

     Bayles and Orland’s writing is unique because they are also artists. They situate themselves on an equal level to readers, inherently understanding us because they are one of us. The book is for us ordinary art-makers. Not Mozart or Picasso, but the ordinary art-maker painting in their bedroom or writing on their commute. The authors are highly relatable, and I find myself trusting their words implicitly.

     This book is the ultimate artists’ companion. Not only does it provide a remedy for conditions such as mine, its fundamentally encouraging and reassuring to artists, reiterating that we’re not alone in our perils. Making art is difficult. Making art also requires an acceptance of uncertainty. Over thirty years since the book’s publishing, we in 2025 face more uncertainty than ever. We readers are reassured that this uncertainty- and fear- is normal and universal. This made me feel less alone.

     The book offers practical advice rather than grandiose statements. One glimmer of wisdom that has stuck with me, is that most of being an artist is simply perseverance. Not talent, or greatness (do those things really exist?) but simply continuing to make art on a day-to-day basis. The importance of good habits is also stressed. We must continue to make art even when not feeling ‘inspired’, as it is the act of making that leads of inspiration. This completely transformed my mindset and understanding of my own habits as an artist.

     Art & Fear articulates my condition perfectly with a simple parable: A ceramics teacher splits his class into two groups of students. One group would be graded only on quantity of pots produced, the other only on the quality of one pot produced. The ‘quantity’ group’s pots were by far the most successful. They had practised making pots, whilst the ‘quality’ students merely thought about making the perfect pot. My takeaway from this story (and from the book as a whole):

Thinking about making great art won’t make great art. Making art will make great art.

     ‘The trap is perfection.’ This is a trap that catches me frequently- it’s the trap of my condition. I re-read parts of ‘Art & Fear’ on a monthly basis. Once Bayles and Orland’s words have made enough of am impact on me, and I begin a flurry of creation, another condition arises: this time a good one. ‘The wonderful condition where the work seems to make itself.’ My instinctive creativity takes over, and artwork pours out of me like an oil spill. My original condition (which could also be known as ‘fear’) is temporarily cured. It is replaced by art-making, until the cycle repeats itself again. And when this inevitably happens, I know that the only hope of a cure is to pick up ‘Art & Fear’ again.

© Nik Macey 2025