What Do We Mean by a “Crutch” in Visual Art?
The term crutch gets tossed around in visual art discussions with remarkable frequency—often used to dismiss a technique, tool, or strategy as somehow illegitimate. But when pressed for clarification, the defining factors for what constitutes a crutch are usually vague, contradictory, or simply pejorative.
So what is a logically consistent way to define what is—or is not—a crutch, especially in the context of art training and performance?
Here’s a clear and functional definition:
Crutch: A tool, strategy, or process that compensates for a skill deficit by bypassing essential perceptual, cognitive, or motor work.
Crucially, whether something functions as a crutch is not inherent to the tool or method itself—it depends on how, when, and why it is used, particularly in relation to the skill being developed or evaluated. Let’s look at two key contexts:
Practice Context (Developmental Use – Generally Positive)
In skill-building phases, aids can function as scaffolds—temporary supports that simplify complex tasks or isolate specific challenges. Used appropriately, they are not only not problematic—they can accelerate learning, as long as they don’t replace the core skill under development.
This concept is well-supported by research on deliberate practice, especially the work of K. Anders Ericsson, who emphasized the importance of structured activities designed to improve performance through targeted effort, feedback, and refinement. Scaffolds—when used temporarily—allow learners to engage with tasks that might otherwise be out of reach, promoting what Vygotsky termed the Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD) (Vygotsky, 1978; Ericsson, 2008).
Still, it’s common to hear warnings like “don’t let ‘x’ become a crutch,” even during training. Often, these reactions reflect personal values about what skills are “essential” based on the speaker’s own process or goals. But it’s important to remember that not everyone shares the same priorities, outputs, or workflows.
For example, using a grid system to transfer a drawing might be seen as a crutch by someone focused on freehand drawing accuracy. But to someone training tonal perception or edge control, that same tool may function as a temporary scaffold to isolate and train those target skills more effectively. (more on this below.)
Performance Context (Representational Use - Often Negative)
In evaluative or presentational settings, a crutch becomes problematic when it compensates for a skill implied by the final product. In this context, the aid may artificially inflate the appearance of competence beyond what the individual could achieve independently. This constitutes a misrepresentation of skill, not a valid demonstration of it.
Historically, this dynamic can be seen in debates around camera obscura and later photographic projection in painting. From Vermeer’s time to 19th-century academic ateliers, artists have leveraged an array of optical aids to varying degrees—often in secret, for fear of being seen as less “authentic.” David Hockney’s controversial theory (2001) that many Old Masters used optics sparked renewed debate on what constitutes legitimate skill versus technological enhancement.
Dependency ≠ Crutch
You’ll also hear people define a crutch as “something you depend on to produce quality work.” But this framing is flawed. Dependency alone does not make something a crutch.
Painters depend on brushes, easels, and canvas—but those tools aren’t typically accused of misrepresenting skill (though, let’s be honest, someone out there has probably made that argument. 
)
So why does the “crutch” label get applied?
Perceived Misalignment and the Effort Heuristic
Crutch accusations often stem from a sense of perceived misalignment—where the implied level of performance doesn’t match what the viewer thinks was actually done. This taps into what psychologists call the effort heuristic: a cognitive shortcut where we assume that greater effort equals greater value or competence (Kruger et al., 2004).
If an artist’s product is viewed as the result of concealed shortcuts, it may provoke a feeling of deception, even if the result is technically sound or aesthetically strong. In such cases, the issue isn’t the tool—it’s the perceived mismatch between expectation and execution.
Research in performance signaling and cognitive bias supports this. Humans are highly sensitive to cues that imply effort, difficulty, or mastery. If those cues are disrupted—say, by the revelation of a mechanical aid—observers may downgrade their value assessments even if the end product remains unchanged.
So How Can We Tell?
The real question isn’t “Did they use a tool?” but rather:
Does the tool replace or misrepresent a core skill in the given context?
If the answer is no—if the tool supports learning or amplifies existing capability—then it’s just that: a tool. And its use should be evaluated relative to the artist’s intent, not someone else’s expectations.
A Closer Look: The Grid Example
Consider the use of a grid to transfer or scale an image.
It’s not uncommon to hear someone say, “Don’t let that grid become a crutch!” The concern, usually unspoken, is that the grid might be compensating for underdeveloped freehand drawing skills—implying that the artist “should” be able to lay down accurate proportions or likenesses without such aids.
But here’s the problem: Should according to whom?
Let’s consider someone using a grid to establish a cartoon for a complex tonal drawing. Whether this is appropriate depends entirely on the artist’s goals and specific focus. If the focus is on training tonal control, texture, or edge sensitivity, then using a grid to establish structure can serve as an effective scaffold—a transient aid that isolates and supports the development of other components of certain types of image-making. It’s not bypassing the skill or halting progress in that area—it’s a matter of strategically sequencing or isolating skill development to direct effort where it’s most needed at a given time for a specific purpose. It’s the wise use of time and energy.
For some seasoned or professional artists in this context, investing significant time in developing a freehand linear cartoon may be no more important to a fulfilling process for them than is learning to construct the grid itself freehand. This isn’t a dismissal of any aspect of drawing skill, but an acknowledgment that different disciplines and aesthetic goals demand different competencies. Expecting equal development across all skill domains is not only impractical—it overlooks the fact that expertise is often domain-specific, and expert-level performance is defined relative to purpose, not universality.
The tension often arises when one person’s fulfillment is misread as another person’s shortcut. One artist may feel totally satisfied using a tool like a grid because it aligns with their process and outcome. But another might view that same use as an evasion of a skill they themselves value highly—so they label it a crutch.
This is why the “crutch” accusation often reveals more about the speaker than the artist. It reflects the speaker’s hierarchy of values, not necessarily any objective misstep.
So again, the key question is: Does the aid misrepresent or replace a core skill in the given context? If the answer is no, then the grid is just that—a tool. And its use should be judged in alignment with the artist’s intent, not external dogma.
Next time someone labels something a “crutch,” consider asking:
- What skill is being bypassed?
- In what context?
- To what end?
You might find that the conversation becomes a lot more productive—and a lot less dogmatic.
References
- Ericsson, K. A. (2008). Deliberate Practice and Acquisition of Expert Performance: A General Overview. Academic Emergency Medicine, 15(11), 988–994.
- Kruger, J., Wirtz, D., Van Boven, L., & Altermatt, T. W. (2004). The effort heuristic. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 40(1), 91–98.
- Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes. Harvard University Press.
- Hockney, D. (2001). Secret Knowledge: Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters. Viking Studio.