Why I stopped trying to make everything perfect in my drawings

Getting started with tablet drawing on a whim

I remember when I first bought a Galaxy Tab. I convinced myself that I was finally going to become one of those people who sketch beautiful landscapes at a cafe. It’s funny how that works. You spend around 800,000 to 900,000 won on a device, thinking the hardware will magically bridge the gap between your brain and the screen. The reality, of course, was that I spent the first three hours just trying to figure out which pen pressure settings didn’t make me look like I was having a seizure while drawing a simple line. I kept looking at those polished, vibrant landscape illustrations online and wondering why my screen looked like a muddy puddle of colors. It’s not like I didn’t know how to use a computer—I even have a GTQ Photoshop Level 1 certification—but drawing is just different. There’s a tactile element that no shortcut key can replace, and no amount of technical knowledge about layers or filters helps when you just can’t get the perspective right.

The endless struggle with AI and file editing

After a few months of feeling like I was just wasting digital ink, I tried to incorporate AI-generated images to speed things up. It felt like a smart shortcut at the time. I was looking at some concept involving historical figures—like Handel and his music—and I thought, why spend twenty hours drawing a wig when a prompt can do it in ten seconds? But that’s where the annoyance sets in. Once you have an AI-generated file, you’re stuck with these bizarre artifacts. Trying to edit an AI file is honestly worse than just drawing from scratch. You zoom in and realize the fingers are merging into the table, or the lighting makes no sense. I spent an entire Saturday trying to fix a single character illustration that I had generated, only to realize I had spent more time masking and cloning than I would have if I had just picked up my stylus and practiced drawing the hand properly. It’s a weird, hollow feeling, looking at a screen knowing half of it isn’t ‘yours’ but also not being able to claim it as a ‘finished’ piece.

Why I gave up on professional tools

I’ve toyed with the idea of taking a formal course using my ‘Tomorrow Learning Card’ (the government-funded training card here), but every time I look at the class list, I hesitate. Is it really going to help me draw better, or am I just going to be taught how to use specific software features in a way that feels like a factory line? I saw this pop-up store for a high-end brand at the Daejeon Shinsegae the other day. They had these elaborate illustrations printed on bags—very polished, very commercial. It made me realize that even the things that look ‘effortless’ are actually the result of a massive, tedious production chain. When I see people debating between art colleges or specialized webtoon programs, I just think about the sheer volume of work they’re about to encounter. It’s not just about the skill; it’s about the endurance. My own little project, this random series of number illustrations I started on a whim, sits half-finished on my desktop because I keep getting hung up on the shading.

Comparing my messy process to public events

I went to see a drawing show at the PlayX4 exhibition in KINTEX recently. Seeing artists like ‘Reva’ or ‘Nalgeunchanggo’ drawing in real-time in front of a crowd was something else. They had these massive screens, and there was so much pressure, but they just… drew. No undo buttons, no re-generating a prompt until it looked ‘right.’ It felt like a real, honest way of making art, even if the final outcome wasn’t a masterpiece. It made me feel a bit silly for sitting in my room, agonizing over a single line on my tablet for forty minutes. I wonder if the reason I’m so stuck is that I’m trying to control the output too much. I see these contests online, asking for posters or simple illustrations with specific slogans, and I think, maybe I should just submit something rough and call it a day. But then I get back to my desk, and the perfectionist in me just won’t let the lines stay messy.

Lingering questions about why I even do this

I’m not entirely sure why I’m still bothering with all this. Maybe it’s the hope that one day I’ll draw something that actually looks like what I had in my head. Or maybe it’s just that, in a world where everything is automated—from stock market predictions to AI-generated ‘art’—the act of drawing, even when it’s frustrating and slow, feels like the only thing that’s actually mine. I don’t have a clear goal. I’m not trying to sell anything, and I’m definitely not trying to become a professional illustrator. Still, I find myself opening the app again tonight. The screen is blank, the stylus is charged, and I’m back to staring at the same brush settings I’ve had for months. Maybe tonight I’ll just draw something ugly and let it be.