Getting Back Into Your Art After a Break (Gently)

Aug 26
3 min read

“Treating myself like a precious object will make me strong.” — Julia Cameron

There’s an awkward space between rest and return. You’re itchy to make things again, but also hesitant, unsure, a little creaky. That doesn’t mean you’re lazy or “over it”—it’s a normal phase of the creative cycle. In this post, we unpack how to re-enter your practice with kindness, clarity, and a few practical tools.

Break vs. Block (know which one you’re in)

Artist’s break = recovery + reset. It often follows a big push, a holiday, a life change. It ends when you feel the quiet pull to return.
Artist’s block = a break that turns into avoidance. It arrives when anxiety drowns out that quiet pull.

Tip: If you keep hearing, “it’s time to try…” but postpone out of fear or perfectionism, that’s your break drifting toward block. Catch it with one tiny action.

Your body is the compass

Creativity doesn’t run 9–5. Many of us feel everything, deeply. Breaks are nervous-system care, not failure. Rest, movement, humour, and low-stakes making help the body say, “safe enough to play.”

Remove the deadline

After time away, forcing a “back by Monday” comeback triggers shame. Honor the season you’re in—new baby, pregnancy, burnout recovery, a big move—then return in steps.

The “Future Work” Book (your re-entry anchor)

Borrowed from bullet journaling’s Future Log, this is a living list of ideas you’ll tackle later—so they don’t haunt you now.

Idea bank: half-sketches, notes, screenshots, post-its from old sketchbooks or magazines.
Spark tags: quick labels like “10 min,” “needs daylight,” “needs shop trip,” “collab.”
Money vs. meaning: mark paid work you must schedule and soul work you’ll nibble at.
Review ritual: when you’re ready, flip through and pick the lightest-lift item.

Low-pressure re-entry: micro-moves that actually work

10-minute study: one tiny watercolor (Amy’s “daily bird”), one blind contour, or one colour swatch page.
Morning doodles instead of Morning Pages (for a while).
One rule per session: 3 colours only; non-dominant hand; 20-minute timer.
Comfort TV as white noise: let a familiar show soften your edges until the itch to fiddle returns.
Studio pottering: tidy brushes, prime a panel, tape paper—touch the space without demanding results.
Artist Dates: gallery hour, paper shop wander, new sketchbook you don’t “deserve” yet.
Social sparks: coffee + sketch with a friend; a low-stakes workshop; open studio days.

The gym analogy (why stiffness is a good sign)

First sessions back rarely feel graceful—like that deliciously sore day after your first workout. Creaky = waking up. Expect smaller reps, celebrate them, and watch your stamina rebuild.

A 7-day gentle restart plan

Day 1: Clear a surface. Set a 20-minute timer. Make marks, any marks. Stop when it rings.
Day 2: Flip through your Future Work book. Star three ideas that feel easy or fun.
Day 3: One starred idea, 15 minutes, non-dominant hand.
Day 4: Artist Date (shop, gallery, nature walk). No outcomes.
Day 5: Repeat Day 1 with a single constraint (3 colours / single tool).
Day 6: Coffee + sketch with one person. Share work-in-progress, not explanations.
Day 7: Choose one micro-project to repeat daily next week (10-minute studies, five days).

Self-talk that helps

“I’m on a break, not broken.”
“Small starts count.”
“Treating myself like a precious object will make me strong.”
“I can be a beginner again—today only.”

Signs you’re ready to do more

You get bored scrolling. You can’t sit through a whole episode. You catch yourself tidying the studio, opening old sketchbooks, or pricing paper online. That’s momentum. Follow it.

Community keeps it light

Play shows up faster with people: a workshop, a sketch-crawl, a friend at the studio, even a family coffee-and-sketch ritual. Find circles where mistakes earn applause.

Closing

Your next season doesn’t need a sprint; it needs a hand on the doorknob. Start small. Be tender. Trust the cycle. When rest is honored, return arrives.