‘How grey you have become!’ say some of my friends when they meet me after not having seen me for several years. Those who see me every day appear not to notice it. I scarcely notice it myself. The face I see in the mirror each morning looks to me very much like the face I have seen every morning of my adult life. Only when I compare it with a photograph taken when I was younger, can I see the difference.

‘How your city has changed!’ I said recently to a Birmingham friend when I revisited the city after some years. ‘Changed?’ he said. ‘Oh, yes, I suppose it has. When you live in a place you don't notice changes.’

There is a saying: the onlooker sees most of the game. And you have doubtless heard people use the expression: I can't see the wood for the trees. To see clearly, we must at times step back, either in fact or in our imaginations. Those of you who are good at Art will know what I mean. After working at a painting or drawing for some time, you will probably lean back in your chair, or walk away a pace or two, in order to see the picture as a whole. Or your teacher may come along and ask a question or make a suggestion that may show you how to improve your work. Even a friend who knows less about Art than you do may, by saying ‘Isn't there something wrong with that elephant?’ or ‘ I don't much like the colour of that sky’, show you a weakness in your work you had not noticed.

We are all very tender about being told that there is something wrong with our work, or our appearance, or our characters. In fact most people seem to believe that to criticise means to find fault with, whereas it means to indicate good and bad points. The best way to avoid the adverse criticism of others is, of course, to step in first and be self-critical. Weigh up yourself and your work carefully: you will find that others will find less and less fault with you because you will have found it already.