Learning any craft requires practice—and lots of it. Unfortunately, we all hit blocks from time to time and just can’t get motivated to move on. If you find yourself spending more time thinking about your art than actually working on it, welcome to the club. We meet never, because we’re all too busy organizing our art supplies and planning what we’ll do when we become “real” artists.
Here are some ideas to consider if you recognize yourself in this delightfully dysfunctional creative pattern.
The Art of Creative Avoidance (Or: How I Learned to Shop Instead of Paint)
The Supply Collector’s Syndrome
One of the most common procrastination devices is to buy supplies, books, and other artistic goodies, but never actually use them. While you are out shopping, you feel connected to your art and the art world—it’s like being an artist without the messy inconvenience of actually creating anything. You may like to have your art supplies in piles where you can see them, or you may spend lots of time organizing them in increasingly elaborate systems, but never get around to making art.
I call this “supply foreplay”—all the buildup with none of the satisfaction. Your art supplies sit there looking pristine and hopeful, like a gym membership you bought with the best intentions but somehow never quite manage to use.
The Fantasy Artist Lifestyle
Another delay tactic is to spend quite a bit of time thinking about what your life will be like when you are a full-time artist. You imagine yourself in a sun-drenched studio, wearing a paint-splattered apron (but somehow still looking effortlessly chic), creating masterpieces while classical music plays softly in the background.
The more you think about what such success will bring to your life, the more changes you realize you will have to make. Suddenly, you are completely overwhelmed by a life you have not even begun to make. It’s like planning your acceptance speech for an award you haven’t won for work you haven’t created yet.
The UFO Phenomenon
You might be a person who indulges in the art of UFOs—that is “unfinished objects.” You take a class but don’t finish the piece. You start a new project with every new magazine issue that comes into your home, but never quite get around to varnishing or putting on the final touches. Your workspace becomes a graveyard of good intentions, populated by the artistic equivalent of zombie projects—not quite alive, not quite dead.
Eventually, you may become overwhelmed by all the projects needing your attention and stop creating at all. It’s like having seventeen half-read books on your nightstand—the guilt alone is enough to make you stop reading entirely.
The Great Overwhelm (Or: When Your Brain Becomes a Traffic Jam)
Overwhelm is the great “red traffic light” for creativity, and is usually part of the procrastination pattern. One of the reasons we become overwhelmed is because we look at the big picture, think of all the things we have to do, which leads to thoughts of even more things that need to be done, and suddenly we are paralyzed by the thought of taking on the project.
It’s like standing at the bottom of Mount Everest with a teaspoon, wondering how you’re going to move the entire mountain. Your brain helpfully provides a running commentary: “You need to learn twelve new techniques, buy better supplies, find more time, develop a style, build a portfolio, learn to market yourself, and oh, by the way, you should probably get better at drawing hands because yours look like mutant starfish.”
The good news is that when you are ready to get back to work, there is a simple method to help you get started. The bad news is that it requires actually doing something instead of just thinking about doing something.
The Stepping Stone Strategy (Or: How to Trick Your Brain into Progress)
All creative projects are a journey from where you are now to where you want to be. You only have to take the first step—not the entire marathon, just one step. This is surprisingly difficult for overachievers and perfectionists, who prefer to plan the entire journey, including rest stops and what they’ll pack for lunch.
Our path is made of stones that are tasks or “to do” items. Although it may seem that all of them have to be done at once, they don’t. Indeed, some days you might not even get past a single stone, while others you will jump ahead two or three. Some days you might even trip over a stone and fall flat on your creative face—and that’s okay too.
Creating Your First Stepping Stones
There are two things to know about getting down this path. The first is to create the stones by identifying the first step or steps to get you started. You don’t have to identify every step—just enough to get moving without having a complete nervous breakdown.
For example, let’s say one of your goals is to learn to paint. A first step isn’t to figure out how to sell your work to a magazine or plan your first gallery opening! A first step is to open up the yellow pages and find a teacher, or go online and look up the topic to learn about types of painting you might be interested in learning. Or even simpler: “Buy one tube of paint and see what happens when I squeeze it onto paper.”
Defining these “stepping stones” is ongoing work. If you were to define each step of the journey at the beginning, you would likely go in the wrong direction because you will learn much that will help refine your goal. It’s like trying to plan a road trip to a place you’ve never been without a map—you’re going to make some interesting detours.
Instead, concentrate on small “doable” steps that build your confidence and lead to the next step. Think “What’s the smallest possible thing I could do today that would move me forward?” Not “What’s the most impressive thing I could accomplish to prove I’m serious about this?”
The Permission to Be Human (Or: Why Some Days You Just Don’t)
The second key—and this is important—is not to get frustrated on the days you don’t get things done. I love to cross things off my “to do” lists with the satisfaction of a conquering hero, but some days that just doesn’t happen. Some days the list looks at me mockingly while I accomplish nothing more ambitious than successfully making coffee.
Give yourself permission to have those days, because you are going to have them. If the perceived lack of “progress” frustrates you, you will go right back into overwhelm faster than you can say “artistic block.” It’s like getting angry at yourself for being human—counterproductive and exhausting.
Progress is not a straight line. It’s more like a drunk person trying to walk home—lots of zigzagging, occasional falls, but somehow still moving in the right general direction.
The Magic of Micro-Movements
The beauty of the “one small step” approach is that it tricks your perfectionist brain into cooperation. Your inner critic can’t argue with “I’m just going to organize my paintbrushes” or “I’m just going to read one page about watercolor techniques.” These tasks are so small and non-threatening that even your most anxious creative self can’t find fault with them.
But here’s the secret: once you start moving, momentum builds. You organize the brushes, then you notice the paints, then you think “Well, I might as well try mixing these two colors,” and before you know it, you’re actually creating something. It’s like creative sleight of hand—you sneak up on your art practice when your resistance isn’t looking.
The Long Game
Take one small step, as often as possible, and you will become the artist you want to be. Not because you had a dramatic creative breakthrough or found the perfect supplies or finally got your life completely organized. You’ll become an artist because you showed up, one small step at a time, even when you didn’t feel like it.
The path to creative fulfillment isn’t paved with grand gestures and perfect conditions. It’s made of tiny, imperfect actions taken consistently over time. Your stepping stones don’t have to be impressive—they just have to be real.
Stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect supplies, or the perfect plan. Start with one small, ridiculous, completely manageable step. Your future artistic self will thank you for it.
The journey of a thousand paintings begins with a single brushstroke. Or in my case, with finally opening the paint tube I bought six months ago.