I haven’t picked up a paintbrush for five years. Most of us dream of being inundated with work, and it feels amazing for a while … but too many ceaseless years of too much—we become chrysalis-like. The shell. After the butterfly has flown.
I’m grateful for the work I’ve had these past 16 years but ‘too much’ is ruinous and total burnout is real. Not only that… mid-2024, I lost all passion for my work; the work I’d dreamt of as a child. I not only lost the love, I actively detested it. It was confusing, confronting and devastating. I needed a complete reset, and since May last year, I’ve been working through that reset (I’ve still a long way to go).
One bright spot has been my desire to pick up a paintbrush and dip and smear colour on a slip of virgin Arches paper. I was inspired by the little treasures I pluck on my walks and although I don’t think this image is phenomenal, it’s a reconnect. It’s a hint of happy but more than that, creating it was calming, restorative and a joy.
We’re complex beings and what we fill out lives with are the ingredients for a life well-lived and -loved. Too much of anything is woeful, but—equally—not enough of some things is pure pathos. Particularly sparks. We so need sparks.
It’s lovely to feel a wee spark. After five years of illustrating digitally (boundless, fast), I’ve realised that boundless and fast are tricksters. Boundaries are good. So is slow.
Digital life and work is here to stay but taking the time to slow down and check in with our hearts is vital. It’s healing. It’s where the sparks fly.
#life