I always knew my child was wired a little differently. While some kids would race around the playground or dive into soccer practice, mine would sit for hours drawing, humming little melodies, or building stories out of paper and tape. As a parent, I felt both proud and worried. Proud because creativity is beautiful — and worried because I know exactly what lies ahead. I’ve spent years working (and struggling) in creative fields myself, and my experience left me with a pretty bitter taste. How can I encourage my child’s artistic spirit without pushing them toward a world I no longer trust?
The first thing I’ve learned is to separate my story from theirs. My disappointments, the harsh realities I faced, the moments when creativity felt like a curse instead of a gift — none of that belongs to my child. They are starting fresh, with different tools, different opportunities, and their own version of creativity. Also we are not in the 90’s anymore… When I say things like, “It’s so hard to make a living as an artist,” or “The art world will eat you alive,” I’m handing them my baggage. Instead, I’ve tried to replace those warnings with curiosity: “What do you love about drawing?” or “How did you come up with that idea?” These small shifts open up space for their joy, without my fears clouding it.
At the same time, I don’t believe in sugarcoating reality. My parents did it with me and I still see my artistic past (between 20 and 30) as a failure. Encouraging an artistic child doesn’t mean pretending the road is easy. What it does mean is teaching them resilience alongside creativity. Instead of saying, “Artists always struggle,” I might say, “Being creative means learning how to handle rejection — do you want to talk about what that feels like?” It’s a way to honor their path while also preparing them for the bumps that come with it.
What I’ve also realized is that my role isn’t to become their manager, teacher, or critic. It’s tempting — especially when you know the field — to jump in with advice or corrections. But my child doesn’t need me to be their coach; they need me to be their parent. That means celebrating messy projects, showing up to awkward school performances, and listening when they get frustrated with their own work. The goal isn’t to make them “good” at art — it’s to show them that their creativity matters because they matter.
If you’re a parent like me — someone who knows the artistic world well and feels torn between encouragement and protection — my advice is this: Don’t let your fear steal their joy. They might become a professional artist, or they might not. That’s not really the point. What matters is that they learn to trust their voice, value their imagination, and know that their creativity has a place in the world — even if that place looks nothing like the one we imagined for them.
Art by Céline Estelle (Heal) available on Etsy
