Trusting the creative instinct

Sometimes I want to paint with bright, bold, high-chroma colours. Other times, a muted, limited palette is exactly what I need. There is no plan, no formula — just a feeling that guides me from one painting to the next.

My mind is like a butterfly, flitting from one flower to another. I cannot settle on a single “style” or a trademark image in the way many artists in the commercial art world do. When you look at my work, you may see an array of different imagery, colours and textures —bees, butterflies, people, porcelian, fabric, hands. Often it makes no sense to me either, except for one thing: it excites me.

Currently rabbits are making an appearance. Here is a small section of a piece that I am currently working on using egg tempera.

I have learned that I must allow the creative process to unfold naturally. Not to conform or make it tidy and predictable but to let curiosity lead me and to see where it goes.

It is rarely in the first painting that clarity arrives. Usually, it is several works in that I begin to notice repeated colours, familiar marks, or returning imagery. That is when something extraordinary happens. I realise that God is at work — that my spirit has been listening all along, quietly guiding my hands even when my mind thinks I am wandering.

My greatest challenge is my own head. It gets in the way. Often. Frequently.And I believe this is true for most artists. We doubt our instincts. We question our process. We wonder if we are doing it “right”.

The pressure to make money, to build a recognisable brand, or to make art that “makes sense” can easily take over. But what we must stay true to is something deeper: even if a piece never sells, it still belongs in the world.

Art does not need permission to exist. It will speak to someone, somewhere, at the right time.

It will make the world a better place. A more colourful place.

Because the earth without art is just… eh.