Small moments matter
Somewhere along the line, I picked up the idea that I need large blocks of time to make art—hours at a stretch, starting at 9 or 1, like it’s a regular job with proper clock-in points. If I can’t commit to that, I often think, “Why bother starting?” and just wait until the mythical right time appears.
But lately, I’ve started to question that thinking.
The other day, I had about thirty minutes before an appointment. Instead of scrolling or killing time, I jumped into a new collage idea that had been floating around in my head. And to my surprise, I made real progress. It sparked an idea that I picked back up again later that day—something I might have missed if I’d waited for the “perfect” block of time to open up.
Where Does This Belief Come From?
I’m wondering if this idea—that art only happens in long, uninterrupted marathons—is a form of procrastination. Or fear. Or maybe just an excuse. Part of me still clings to this romantic image of what a “real artist” looks like: disappearing into the studio for hours, paint flying, forgetting to eat, staying up all night, and doing it all again the next day. Maybe that’s a leftover scene from a Jackson Pollock movie? Who knows.
But that’s never really been my reality—and I don’t think it needs to be.
A friend of mine, who’s a professional painter, once told me that she has to schedule time in her studio or it just won’t happen. That totally surprised me. I’d always assumed that if the creative drive was strong enough, you’d be pulled into the studio without needing to plan for it. Turns out, that’s just another story I’ve been telling myself.
Finding My Rhythm
What I’m realizing is that I need to find my own rhythm, especially with an ADD brain that doesn’t always follow linear patterns. I’m also a pretty avid knitter, and when a project has a deadline, I can drop into a kind of fugue state to get it done. But that kind of hyperfocus isn’t always available.
Sometimes I work in short bursts, walk away, and come back later. That stop-and-start rhythm actually works for me—and it counts just as much as the deep, focused stretches.
So maybe a mix of both approaches is what I need. I’ll still carve out dedicated time when I can, but I’m also leaning into what I’m calling “art snacks”—quick bursts of creative play, ten minutes here, twenty there. Small moments that add up.
If any of this sounds familiar, I’d love to hear how you manage your creative time. Do you wait for a long stretch of hours, or do you squeeze in small pockets when you can? If you’re looking for encouragement, ideas, or a little structure to help you get started (or restarted), I offer bespoke sessions that can be shaped around your interests, experience, and pace. Come solo or with a friend—just reach out and let’s talk process.
