Losing Your Progress
I’d heard it millions of times before: back up your work.
Ironically, I heard it more in the writing sphere than in the art sphere. Others wove tails of crashed computers, corrupted files, and a writing program, being a complete idiot. Scared of such a happening to me, I backed up my work on a USB drive.
Years passed. USB drives remained unused and, often, lost. I rarely needed them except for nostalgia’s sake.
In the past, I used Windows laptops, desktops, and Android phones. I knew the protocols. I had my files organized. If a program seemed sketchy or unstable, I stopped using it. I rarely used any sort of cloud storage, minus my Google Drive, whose folders I would regularly save on my computer. Well, the important ones, at least.
In all the time, none of my computers randomly exploded or error’d. Yes, the Adobe software I used would crash on me like it was a feature. But I’d, at most, lose a few hours of work as I did regularly save inside the programs. Ironically, it was the saving that crashed it the most.
If something got accidentally deleted, I could retrieve my work from the cached files. Or, sometimes, invest in a recovery program which was cheaper back then. The files would restore. I’d be fine. Even then, these instances happened sparingly.
On my Android phone, I could easily transfer my apps, files, photos, and more to a new phone — a miracle when my Google Pixel developed the rare bug of an unstoppable restart loop. Unless the game didn't have a cloud save, all my progress in games saved on the developer's cloud. Some apps used your phone storage, and the few that didn’t weren’t that important.
Cue in my decision to invest in an iPad.
I’d researched and learned many (at least smaller businesses & artists) used Procreate and the Apple pencil to create their digital art. The Apple Pencil touts the highest sensitivity and features than most digital pens. Procreate cost a $14 one-time fee. While the iPad itself cost around $400 with a case, this paled compared to a drawing tablet where you could see the strokes you were making on the device itself, ranging around $1,000 or more.
It had a lower start-up cost and a high quality. So, I splurged. In 2023, I used it to pursue something I’d put off time and time again: selling my artwork. I typically made a $20-$40 profit, if you didn’t count ink.
However, the feedback and sales convinced me to invest in a newer than 2012 printer. It made my previous financial woes and troubleshooting burdens a mere memory. And it was on sale.
Despite hitting an artistic and emotional rut, I picked up my Pencil and began creating again. One thing I noticed was a style beginning to emerge — thank you, grunge brush! I also noticed that my shading and overall artwork had improved. I began considering different poses. Shading appeared realistic, though not excellent.
Somehow, I’d made progress even with the months in-between. A newfound happiness and pride emerged. It fueled me to draw something besides my stylized nightwalkers. I tried to draw Nessie, and I succeeded.
Excited, I circled back to some Mothman attempts, redoing their backgrounds and enhancing their shading. Between my new art and my website shop finally launching, I was ecstatic to create something for Valentine’s day, even if it was only one print.
My husband, Zach, asked about a tablet for his 3D modeling. Last Saturday, we browsed our local Best Buy. He had it narrowed down to the iPad I have or a comparable Lenovo tablet. That night, I customized my iPad some while he researched further.
For those of you without an iPad (or other Apple product), you can “change” the icons by creating a shortcut with the desired icon, then removing the usual shortcut from the home screen. I downloaded a basic pack and made matching ones for my most used apps, including Procreate.
Now, the “delete app” is right above the “remove from home screen” option. Click both gives you a pop up, asking: “do you really want to do this?” I found this annoying when removing icons from the home screen. Of course I do and, even if I didn’t, it’s so easy to reverse.
So, given I was tired and had seen the pop up multiple times, I didn’t think twice when clicking “Yes” when changing out Procreate’s icon. It removed the app. Panicking, I remembered Android phones often save the app data in case you re-install. When you re-install, it “restores” the files. With that experience, I re-downloaded Procreate instantly.
However, I opened it to find only the default files it gives you at the beginning. All of my work, gone. All of my sellable art left as PNGs and PDFs on my computer from before Good Printer Wireless Printing. Yes, I could still print them. But I could never edit them.
And my new files, gone forever.
Little did I know, Procreate stores all of its files (aka all of my art) in the app itself. Not on your iPad or even the app’s cloud data. It only stores it in the app. You need an iCloud backup to restore it. Now, to save money, I had canceled my subscription. It notified me it was full, but it was only after an hour and a half of trying data recovery tools that I noticed it still had one back up from December 2023.
Perfect, I thought. I would lose my most recent drawing, the drawing I loved so dearly. But those weren’t recoverable. I could recover all my printable drawings and my experimental Mothman works. Hope stirred inside my heart. Zach Googled how to recover files from your iCloud.
On Apple’s website, it said two simple steps: factory reset your device then choose to restore from your iCloud drive when you set it up again. Yes, that’s right, factory reset. Zach and I were mortified. While Procreate had my most valuable files, I could lose everything.
Yet, after a manual backup with iTunes to a computer, we tried it.
The clock hovered at 11:30PM. I scrolled mindlessly through my phone. I opened a video on YouTube to drain out the noise. Zach and our cat Suri kept snapping me out of my attempted trance by talking or getting in front of my phone and, eventually, my computer screen.
The iPad restarted and said “Hello” on its screen. I chose English for my language, then my region of living, the US. I clicked through multiple screens until prompted to restore from iCloud. Relieved, I chose it. We read we could let the iPad go to sleep as long as it held an internet connection. So we went to bed.
Zach was the first one out of bed. He checked the iPad. I grabbed a new pair of socks from the dresser, holding my breath. The files were there. I asked if he really meant that. He assured me they were there and that he wouldn’t joke like that.
Sure enough, they were there.
I considered waxing poetic about the feelings of starting over, the grief over lost artwork, and the like. But the feelings came in waves of adrenaline and sheer exhaustion. It was an experience, but hardly one I can, a few days later, wax poetic.
Just please backup your stuff. If you don’t know where it’s stored, find out. If you don’t know how to back up where it’s stored, find out. Do your research before using a program or in the early stages of using a program.
Heck, do it on old programs you’ve trusted for years to double check.
Don’t learn the hard way.
Much love,
Ada
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Yes!!!!
Also...Mothman?👀👀👀