Lifelong Learning: Why Artists Must Never Stop Studying
- Avon Waters

- Jul 8
- 3 min read
We often hear familiar phrases such as, "Be a lifelong learner," or "They can take your money and your home, but they can't take your education away." They're clichés because they contain an enduring truth. Yet nowhere is that truth more evident than in the arts

At the last International Association of Pastel Societies (IAPS) Convention in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Master Pastelist and former IAPS President Richard McKinley led a tour of more than one hundred outstanding paintings selected from artists around the world. I was fortunate to serve as the tour monitor—a glorified doorman making sure only ticketed attendees entered while the presentation was being filmed and recorded.
What I witnessed during that hour was remarkable.
Richard did far more than discuss composition, color, or technique. He placed each painting within a historical context, drawing connections to artists from other eras whose work evoked similar emotions or explored related ideas. It was a demonstration of what decades of continual study can produce. His knowledge extended beyond painting methods into art history, philosophy, biography, and the social climates in which artists lived.
That depth of understanding cannot be acquired through talent alone. It comes only through continual learning.
One story especially stayed with me. Many artists on the tour were surprised to learn that late in life Edgar Degas became increasingly reclusive and what we might politely describe today as "a difficult personality." That fact doesn't diminish his artistic accomplishments, but it does remind us that history is populated by human beings—not saints.
As time passes, society often turns great historical figures into myths. Those myths serve a purpose, especially for the young, but adulthood requires something more. Eventually we learn that many of our heroes possessed significant flaws. Some were misogynists. Some were anti-Semitic. Others held beliefs we rightly reject today.
Maturity is not pretending those flaws never existed, nor is it erasing every contribution they made. Rather, it is learning to hold both truths at once.
Each of us must decide how to weigh the good against the bad, recognizing extraordinary accomplishments while refusing to ignore personal failings. That balance is part of becoming an educated adult.
This is why continuing education matters—not only for artists, but for everyone.
Education gives us the ability to evaluate people and ideas for ourselves instead of simply accepting myths inherited from previous generations. It teaches us to think critically, to appreciate complexity, and to become comfortable with uncomfortable truths. Without continual learning, we become increasingly willing to let others tell us what to think rather than developing the ability to think independently. For artists, that ability can either set us apart, or let us accept our personal artistic growth as "good enough."
The French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty expressed something similar when he wrote that artists see with their entire bodies. We are not simply a pair of eyes looking through a window at the world. When an artist reaches a certain level of mastery, the brush, palette knife, or pastel no longer feels like a separate tool. It becomes an extension of the body itself. Our hands often respond before conscious thought catches up.
That level of artistic fluency comes from years of practice.
But I would argue it requires something more.
Technical skill alone is not enough. The artist must also nourish the mind through history, literature, philosophy, aesthetics, and the lives of those who painted before us. It is this combination of craftsmanship and understanding—both technical knowledge and intellectual knowledge—that creates deeper artists.
Merleau-Ponty's "whole body" is nourished by both.
Adulthood, then, is not simply reaching eighteen or twenty-one years of age. Laws may define adulthood chronologically, but genuine adulthood is measured by a willingness to continue growing. It is the conscious decision to keep learning throughout life. Without that commitment, we risk becoming people who cannot tolerate challenges to cherished beliefs or who rely on others to interpret the world for us.
Artists are no exception.
The moment we stop trying to improve, we stop growing. If we no longer seek workshops, conventions, critiques, books, museum visits, or conversations with artists who know more than we do, our artistic development begins to plateau.
Likewise, an artist who studies only technique while ignoring art history misses an extraordinary opportunity. Understanding the movements, philosophies, and personal struggles of artists throughout history adds richness to our own work and gives us a deeper appreciation for the creative journey we all share.
You don't have to become as knowledgeable as Richard McKinley.
But I can promise this: learning more than technique—learning the history, philosophy, and humanity behind the art—will enrich both your paintings and your life.
Happy painting.




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