Dear artist on the edge of beginning again,

You don’t have to force a return. You don’t have to go fast. You don’t have to produce a thing to be an artist. You already are one.

Dear artist who used to paint but hasn’t touched a brush in months.

Dear artist who thinks about creating every day but never quite begins.

Dear artist who is caught between longing and exhaustion, inspiration and interruption.

Dear artist whose creativity once felt effortless and now feels like reaching for something behind glass.

This is for you.

You are not doing it wrong.

You are navigating change.
Maybe in your body.
Maybe in your relationships.
Maybe in your identity.
Maybe in the quiet, invisible places no one else can see.

And that is not a detour from your creative path.
That is your creative path.

The pauses. The pivots. The grief and the reinvention. The way your art practice falls apart and remakes itself in a new shape. The way you forget what it once gave you, and slowly, sometimes painfully, remember again.

That is the real work. And it matters just as much as anything you ever made.

Sometimes before a 1:1 session, I send questions. Not as homework. Not to test or measure. But as a way to offer companionship in that liminal place between stopping and starting. They are invitations. Not instructions.

You don’t have to answer them. You don’t have to figure anything out. You can simply let them linger near you like a soft presence, something you return to when you’re ready.

But if you want a place to begin again, these are the kinds of questions we might ask together:

• What would feel meaningful or nourishing to walk away with from a conversation about your creativity right now? Not what you think you should want. What you really need.

• What does your creative rhythm want to look like in this season of life? Not what it used to be. Not what it could be in a perfect world. What feels actually possible with the energy and reality you’re living today?

• What does painting, or writing, or stitching, or moving your hands through clay give you that nothing else does? And are there gentler ways to access that feeling even when the full practice feels out of reach?

• Where might you still be holding onto a version of yourself that used to serve you, but no longer does? What identities or expectations are ready to be set down?

• How do you define “health” for yourself right now? How do you define “creativity”? Where do those things overlap, and where do they pull away from each other?

• And if your future self could whisper something to your current self, what do you imagine they would say?

• These are not easy questions. They aren’t meant to be. But they are generous ones. And you deserve generosity.

If all you do is read this and feel the ache of recognition, that’s already a beginning. If you close your eyes and breathe in one of these questions, you are already creating a small opening. One that might grow.

You don’t have to force a return. You don’t have to go fast. You don’t have to produce a thing to be an artist. You already are one.

And if you want company on the way back, I am here.

With deep belief in your return,
Kathryn

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You can download one of the booklets I share with these questions for free right here.