After a long 7-month break, I finally picked up my paint brushes again, and let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy. At first, everything felt unfamiliar. There’s a certain comfort that comes with painting—an intuitive rhythm that becomes second nature the more you practice. But after stepping away from my artistic practice for some time, that rhythm was lost, and I found myself struggling to find my footing once again.
The Brush Doesn’t Do What the Brain Wants
One of the most jarring aspects of returning to painting after a break is that feeling of disconnect between what my mind envisions and what my hands actually do. The brush just doesn’t seem to follow my command in the same fluid way it once did. I think I know what I want, but when I attempt to translate that onto the canvas, the results are always a little... off. It’s frustrating. The strokes are clumsy. The composition is awkward. The colours feel muddy. It’s like there’s a gap between the mental image and the physical execution, and no matter how hard I try, it’s hard to close it.
Seeing the Nuances Again
Another challenge has been reawakening my ability to truly see. The subtleties of colour, shape, and tone that once felt so intuitive now seem distant. The longer I’ve been away from the canvas, the harder it becomes to discern the subtle gradations of light and shadow. What once came easily—choosing the perfect hue, capturing the minute shifts in tone, even recognizing the smallest details in form—now requires more effort and concentration.
At first, everything feels like a blur of colour. I struggle to capture the depth of the subject, the way light falls across the face or body. My eyes take time to adjust, to re-train themselves in understanding how to interpret the world in pigment. The paintings that result from these early attempts often feel warped, flabby, even ugly in a way that can be hard to accept.
Pushing Through the Ugly Phase
There are moments when it feels like I’m failing, when I want to put the brush down and walk away. The work doesn’t look anything like what I want it to, and I wonder if I’ll ever regain the skills and confidence I had before. But the truth is, the ugly phase is a part of the process. It’s where growth happens, even if it’s uncomfortable. I’ve learned that this phase is necessary, even if it’s discouraging at times. It’s all part of getting back into the groove, retraining my eyes and hands to work in harmony again.
The Breakthrough Moment
And then, after days—sometimes weeks—of struggling, there comes that moment of quiet clarity. The eyes and hands finally start working in unison, and it’s like everything clicks into place. A brushstroke feels right. The colours flow with purpose. The tones come together in harmony. Suddenly, the canvas begins to sing, and all the frustrations of the past weeks feel worth it.
It’s a reminder of why I paint in the first place—the joy of those moments when the work feels alive, when the brushstrokes speak a language that is both familiar and exhilarating at the same time. The breakthrough doesn’t always come easily, but when it does, it makes the struggle worthwhile.
The Art of Patience
Returning to painting after a break is an exercise in patience—patience with the process and patience with myself. It’s about accepting that the journey back to mastery is not linear and that setbacks are just as much a part of growth as success. I’m relearning how to trust my process and, most importantly, how to trust the messy, imperfect moments along the way.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this return to painting, it’s that the struggle is as important as the triumph. It’s all part of the creative journey, and while the road may be bumpy at times, it’s always worth it when I finally find my rhythm again