Starting something new is often frightening. It isn’t just art—it’s life in general. As a creative person, I can become overwhelmed by negative self-talk, fear of criticism, and a quiet, insistent pressure to be an expert at everything I turn my hand to. Left unchecked, this internal critic creates inertia, leading to a desperate desire to create paired with the absolute inability to begin.
When I take myself too seriously or become excessively bent on the outcome of a project—adaptations evolved to protect me, like castle walls—I find that I’ve built prison walls instead. Overcoming that friction requires completely changing how I approach the blank page or canvas.
Relieving the Pressure: Action Over Expectation
The cure for creative inertia often mirrors physical movement. When getting back into running, the secret isn’t setting aggressive pace or distance goals; it’s simply lacing up my shoes and getting out the door. By stripping away high expectations, dread turns back into anticipation, and joy returns.
Making art works the exact same way. Waiting around for motivation, inspiration, or desire almost never works—if I wait for inspiration before I begin, I end up doing nothing at all. Instead, I have to lower the stakes and tell myself: “Just play.”
I don’t need to know what I’m going to create before I start. I simply have to start making marks on the page and trust intuition from that point on. As Picasso famously put it, “Inspiration exists, but it has to find us working.”
I try to work every day. What I make doesn’t have to be a masterpiece; it doesn’t even need to be art, and it certainly doesn’t have to be finished—but I must do something. Once I’ve lurched into motion—however haltingly—my mind tends to get out of its own way, the process becomes enjoyable, and inspiration often pays a visit.
Defending Against Negative Self-Talk
Even with daily progress, negative self-talk will inevitably creep back in. To keep going, it helps me to build deliberate tactics and rituals into my practice to remind myself that all artists feel this way sometimes.
Whether that means surrounding myself with inspiring affirmations or setting structured, playful “assignments”—like carving a functional QR code out of wood just for the sheer, hilarious absurdity of asking “Who does that?”—tactics that build patience and discipline can keep my hands moving when my mind wants to stall. The key is simple: keep moving, keep working.
Channeling Childhood Curiosity
Whenever I feel stuck, I try to look at how kids navigate the world. They live life like they really mean every minute of it, galloping everywhere with the unshakeable faith that whatever happens next is probably going to be awesome.
I was reminded of this while making color wheels with kids at the TD Art Gallery Paint-In. Watching their eyes light up as skeins of yellow paint rolled over red to make orange was pure magic. They weren’t worried about the final product; they were painting for the sheer joy of seeing colors materialize in front of their eyes.
That day re-energized me and brought me right back to where it all started. “Just playing” isn’t just a trick to get started—it’s my touchstone. Whenever perfectionism threatens to lock me in place, I drop my expectations of the outcome, step up to the page, and play with the paint.
If I can muster enough willingness to just get started, everything else seems to take care of itself.
Stefan Lehmann
Stefan Lehmann is a member of the Gage Gallery Arts Collective.