Painting is often romanticized as being a quiet, meditative act. You’ve seen the social media posts with paint flowing freely from the brush to the canvas, and the artist having a great time. I think a lot of my anxiety stems from the fact that as an artist, I do not fit that mold. I have a point of frustration in every painting I make. Most times, I can convince myself that the painting is fine, it is “just not finished yet”. Lately, the feelings have become increasingly difficult.

A few painting sessions in the painting, I can feel the pressure of the space. I have a palette picked out so that mixing color is not an added stressor. The process at this stage is to get as much information onto the canvas as possible, allowing for an easier editing and composition building phase later in the process.

I am taking a small break from painting this season to explore new colors, shapes, and mark-making in my sketchbook. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been sitting for four or five hours a day, flipping back and forth through the pages of my book to add lines, smudges, and small drawings. My plan is to incorporate these drawings and color combinations into my art more in 2026.

Reworking older pieces reminds me that creativity doesn’t always mean starting fresh. Even small changes can reignite my connection to painting and help me feel grounded again. In uncertain times, returning to a familiar canvas is a quiet way to move forward and rediscover my flow.

To me, painting small like this is much more difficult than painting a giant canvas. I think there are a unique set of skills needed for both. While painting, I was discouraged in how long it took me to pull a composition out of each piece and I changed the surface texture dramatically when I was half way through each piece.