Creativity Takes Courage

“Creativity takes courage.”

— Henri Matisse

It's that simple: set aside your fear and make the first mark. As I often tell my painting students, the wonderful thing about painting is that once the paint dries, we can always fix it. But what happens when we try to fix wet paint and lose patience? We feel judged, as if eyes are on our every move, and in our impatience, we attempt to fix things immediately. Rushing often turns the painting to mud and a way bigger mess than before. Frustrated, we either keep trying, making things worse, or we give up and declare, “I’m not an artist. I quit.”

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

— Leonardo da Vinci

Isn’t this similar to life? When we get anxious, or things don’t go our way, we try to fix everything instantly before anyone notices. We force outcomes, pushing against closed doors, and get upset when plans are canceled or changed. But what if we paused in these moments? Take a walk, do something else, or simply sleep on it? Not everything needs to be forced just because we want it. If we learn to adapt, change, and problem-solve, life—like art—can become a fun, creative game.

Whenever I start a new piece of art or step into a classroom to teach, I begin by setting my intentions for that moment or project. I ask myself: Why me? Why now? Not all art needs a predetermined outcome; I’ve come to enjoy creating abstract pieces just as much as following a clear design. Intentions can be as simple as wanting to enjoy the process, let your mind wander, and release control. Or perhaps your goal is more specific, like fulfilling a client’s request and staying on track to avoid wasted effort.

When I teach, I set intentions that my lessons will support my students, and that I’ll say the right words to help them understand. I hope they receive my guidance with open minds and grateful hearts, and—most importantly—discover the joy in art as I have.

When I skip this step, I inevitably struggle. I try to force things in the direction I want, convincing myself I need a particular outcome—even as doors keep closing. Over time, I’ve learned to pause, take a deep breath, and reset my intentions. I have the conversation I should have started with, regroup, and begin again. And almost like magic, things start to work out—every single time. It still surprises me how effective this simple shift can be.

“Have no fear of perfection—you’ll never reach it.”

— Salvador Dalí

I’ve integrated this practice into my classes. When I give instructions, I ask my students to sit up and smile, explaining how negativity in a classroom can be contagious. Often, someone who is struggling seeks validation that their work isn’t good, prompting others to downplay their own work so no one feels alone. Repeated reassurance of negativity can affect everyone in the room.

I’ve left classrooms where the energy was so heavy that stepping into a quiet hallway felt like a relief. That’s when you realize just how much weight negativity carries. That’s why I strive to create an environment where artists feel courageous enough to take risks and accept mistakes, knowing we can always fix or pivot. In the end, things work out best when we let go of trying to force them.

“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.”

— Rumi

In both art and life, growth comes when we embrace uncertainty, let go of the need to control every outcome, and allow space for mistakes and new beginnings. Whether you’re facing a blank canvas or an unexpected twist in your day, remember: you can always start again—sometimes, that’s when the magic truly happens.

‘Your Art Buddy,

Julie