Good advice that isn’t

Creative block is just the beginning

I’ve joined many conversations recently, with people who’ve taken a break from art. Not just one type of art: everything from painting or drawing to writing and music. There’s a common thread. It isn’t that these are all activities that normal people do when they take a break from real life.

It’s this: when you try to get back into it, there’s a block.

I used to create, to draw and paint in a way that felt natural and powerful. Now, when I start, I stop as suddenly. It’s as if that pathway in my brain is closed off.

The desire to make something is still very much there, but I can’t convert it into anything real. The engine is running, but the wheels aren’t touching the ground.

I was never what you’d call a prolific writer, but I used to finish things. Now, a hundred words in, I lose the thread entirely. It’s like I’ve lost all the ability to make anything.

A hungry brood of ideas

If this is you, there’s a good chance you’re not a beginner struggling to gain technical competence and comfort with your medium. You can do all sorts of impressive stuff. Sing in perfect pitch. Draw photorealistic images from your mind’s eye. Write passive-aggressive emails without breaching your workplace HR policies.

You lead a life filled with work, family, social obligations, and varied interests. You’d never openly call yourself an ‘artist’. Not at work, anyway. Even if you have a website that says you are, shelves overflowing with sketchbooks or unfinished drafts, a few framed pictures on the wall and...

You’ll often have many ideas, all crying out to be fed.

This sketch is a self-portrait of sorts: a depiction of me, recently with many ideas. It looks nothing like me. The technique is known as ‘badly drawn’.

The widening chasm

You’ve put the hours and years into developing technical skills. You could be published, exhibited, or have won an art prize or two. You’re an experienced traveller, venturing down seemingly blind alleys with nothing more than curiosity and trust in your intuition. You sometimes return with accomplished works that connect with people. Sometimes you don’t. You used to be fine with that.

You know what you can do. Yet, find somehow…you can’t. It seems you have everything you need, but can’t access or apply it. With every attempt, the chasm between where you stand now and committing to step onto that tightrope you’ve walked many times before grows wider.

Sometimes it’s true that you have to restart with suspended judgement, as I’ve had to remind myself recently. It’s also true that you can draw things that look credible but are, in fact, impossible.

Good advice that isn’t

You scour the internet, seeking advice. Your friends - some of them artsy types - are sympathetic.

“Creative block’, they nod knowingly. “Happens to the best of us. I couldn’t think of a single idea for dinner on Saturday night.”

Noting your controlled, exasperated exhalation (they notice, no matter how subtly you mask it), they hastily add.

“You’re a bit rusty. You’ll be fine - it’ll pass once you start back properly”.

“Fair enough, thanks,” you say. Because you’re polite.

“We ended up getting take-away, in the end,” bookending their wisdom.

Rusty skills are just a symptom

You also know they’re wrong, because recovering your technical skill is a tiny part of the broader problem. You’ve enjoyed holidays and downtime between projects. You’ve come back a little rusty, and know that technical skills return quickly enough. You can ride a bike.

Where have you gone, me?

The real issue is that part of who you are, part of your identity, is no longer accessible. Not your entire self. Like most, you probably have several identities: friend, father, mother, sibling, professional by day… Yet one of them isn’t showing up. One you’re fond of.

Even if you never called yourself an artist in public, it’s the artist within that’s missing.

That’s the real problem that often isn’t acknowledged. The question isn’t how to regain your skills; it’s how to regain that part of yourself.