Learning When to Walk Away from Your Art / Creative Practice
- Sep 30
- 4 min read
I have an annoying habit of having to always finish a book, movie or series, no matter how much I am no longer enjoying it. Turning page after page of eye-rolling nonsense or sitting mind-numbingly bored through a 58-minute-long episode of trash TV, all because I finish what I start. Like a good girl.
This habit crept its way into my art-making process as well. To such an extent, in fact, that I believe it was contributing to my artist's block. Let me give you some context.
Two years ago, after moving to the Netherlands, I found myself suddenly processing a deep trauma that I had lived through while in SA. As with all my work, I instinctively continued the mental processing of this, in my work, creatively. I began a large body of work to help me face and move on from what I had experienced.
The body of work had a life of its own. It kept growing. Every time I would return to it after a few days, or longer, I seemed to have more ideas demanding to be actualised on paper. Before I knew it I had so many half-finished pieces of work that were taking up space in my studio and inhabiting the voice of my inner critique, spewing things like this at me:
‘You need to finish what you started, or this is all been one big waste of time’
‘This is such important work, you cannot abandon it!’
‘Why are you not finishing this? What’s wrong with you?’
‘Don’t you even dare think about making anything else! This needs to be finished first’
Recently, I had to move into a much smaller apartment. My belongings just fit in. So, I decided it was time to finally knuckle down and finish this two-year long body of work. I hung all the half-finished pieces on my wall, did a tally of all the work that needs to be done and came up with a long list of ‘to-dos’. I worked on them for about another 2 days and then, once again, I stopped. A few weeks passed, and I suddenly realised something.
I do not need permission from anyone or anything to walk away from this work. I can abandon it, and it will not make me less of an artist. It will not diminish the enormous healing some of the work afforded me during this process. I can throw it away and never return to it, and my creativity will not shrink into the corner of my room, terrified to ever partner with me again.
It took me the better part of an afternoon to sift through all the works and celebrate the finished ones, and show gratitude for the incomplete ones as I joyfully and ceremoniously tore them up and crumpled them into the trash. I cannot explain to you the weight that was lifted off my shoulders and my soul.
In fact, this almost felt like an art performance in the end – the finishing touch of the art exhibition: the destruction of what symbolised the trauma I had meticulously processed and worked through. It cleared up space in my room and, more importantly, in my mind, to welcome new ideas. My creativity did not leave my side.
It made me realise how I have stifled my creativity over the years by being overly protective of it. When I was pregnant and during the first year of motherhood, I had an overwhelming number of ideas that flowed effortlessly through me. I suppose the act of creating a little human inspired my creativity to foster its own little offspring of ideas.
But time was so limited, so I tried to make most of these ideas into fully fledged artworks, but I still have a backlog of sketches waiting in line for their turn. I genuinely like each one of them. So much so that all my new ideas must get in line. It was working for a while, until it was not.
Abandoning an idea seems like the highest form of creative sacrilege to me. So, stepping away or deleting or throwing the idea away is so counter to my belief system. Yet, the moment I did, it opened up a space in my soul to breathe and allowed me to come up with exciting new ideas, which released me from my artist block.
What’s even more amazing is that within the new ideas I can clearly see traces of the old abandoned ideas, inspiring and shapeshifting to better fit the artist I am now, in the creative season I am now.
Forcing yourself to finish a creative project can sometimes be an important part of your growth as an artist. Learning to know when to walk away is an equally important nuance. Learn from me and Marie Kondo, and if it isn’t bringing you joy, learn to let it go.
Here are some’s you might need to walk away from. And here is my permission to do so.
That bad book you’re trying to finish
The boring series you’re watching with your partner
The artwork that is going nowhere slowly
A toxic friendship or relationship
The exhibition, course, workshop, art competition, or art challenge you committed to but now can not seem to thrive (it feels like work, and not play)
That sketchbook you just can’t seem to ignite your creativity in
That pile of ‘to-do’s’ that actually don’t need to be done.
And then allow yourself to just do nothing for a moment. I warn you, savour this moment because your creativity won’t let this last long, you’ll be back and in full swing before you know it. Enjoy the rest, while it lasts!
Comments