Art making ideasi
Ideas. Inspiration. A little creative mischief.
If you’re drawn to abstract and semi-abstract art, sketchbooks, colour and a little creative mischief, this is your corner of the internet.
In my blog you’ll find stories, videos, inspiration, and gentle nudges to help you create art that feels like you.
The painting process: an unknown destination
Creating abstract art: Some observations on the painting process and finding meaning…
I never know where a painting is going to end up when I begin to paint.
There’s usually no defined path, no confirmed route map, no colour plan taped to the wall. Just a brush, some paper, and a commitment to begin and keep going.
This used to scare me. Now, it’s the whole point.
The way I paint is often a form of improvisation. Marks and brushstokes responding to what is already there… Small decision, small decision, small decision.
It’s like walking into the forrest with no clear path ahead, working out where I am going as I go. I build up lots of layers of paint hoping something interesting will develop. I often think the painting process requires an optimism, a commitment to problem solving, a hope that everything will turn out for the best.
The Australian artist John Olsen said:
“Painting is a means of self-enlightenment.”
And I think that's so true.
Because it’s not just the painting that reveals an image, the process often reveals something of myself to me as well.
Sometimes I don’t know what my paintings are about until I have painted them.
That’s how this new body of work arrived. I didn’t set out to paint a memory. But as I was painting these paintings, I could feel there was a visual memory that I was reaching for that was just out of reach. The paintings were reminding me of something important and I couldn’t quite place it.
And then a scene returned: a wooden tray. A box of antique buttons handed down generation to generation. A small visual memory that felt important to me. Me as a little girl, my mother encouraging me to play with her button box on a large wooden tray “Sort them however you like.” Playing with the little circles and dots of colour, arranging them again and again, over and over.
I’d forgotten all about this small domestic scene from 45 years ago. But when I looked at these paintings it came right back to me. So I have named these paintings The Button Keepers are layered, luminous, and slow-built paintings. They hold both clarity and mess. Brightness and darkness. Nostalgia and hope. They don’t really illustrate a story but they did sort of uncover one.
We don’t have to know the ending before we begin. In art or in life. We don’t have to “figure it out.” We can build the meaning as we go.
We can stay open. We can stay curious. We can keep showing up, even when the path forward is unclear. Slowly, hopefully, something interesting reveals itself to us…
Walking myself home: creativity amid the chaos
Creativity is a way of coming home to ourselves…
Making anyway
There’s scaffolding going up outside my studio. We have folk working on our roof, noise, drilling…
It strikes me this is a good metaphor for modern life, there is always noise and distraction, always something loud going on right outside our window…how do we create and make art despite of this?
This week’s video is about creativity as a decision and finding small ways to lower the stakes and allow art making to be fun when life gets in the way. It’s about ‘making anyway’ in the middle of mess, noise, and distraction.
It’s a decision
I’ve learned this over and over again: Creativity doesn’t have to wait for perfect conditions. Sometimes making art is a decision. A small act of rebellion against life’s everyday difficulty and frustrations.
I think the key is to make it as easy for yourself as possible. Keep your expectations low, keep your ambitions low. You don’t always have to make something of significance. Make something simple. Make something fun.
So this week I made a tiny, scrappy art-book. Made from one piece of paper which was painted on both sides with smears of acrylic paint. Cut some wonky windows. Glued it together. Added some bits of collage, doodles, and a few stitches of embroidery. Nothing fancy. Just… something.
Notes to self
And as I played, I copied a few “notes to self” from my journal and stuck them in:
Seek out surprise and delight
Treasure small things
Make art-making fun
Cutting and sticking is cool
It was sort of silly. Not for sale. Not for a project. But it gave me exactly what I needed; a window of calm. A little creative joy. A little playfulness. A pause from the minor irritations of life.
Creativity as a way to come back to ourselves
Because when life feels scattered and decidedly un-playful, creativity helps me come back to myself. It’s how I walk myself home.
Reaching towards beauty
There’s a quote I love from The Mill on the Floss, the book by George Eliot published in 1860:
“We can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.”
This quote is about human nature and the fact that longing isn’t a weakness but part of aliveness. To me, it also sums up why art-making matters. When we create, we’re reaching toward beauty, a hunger for something good, however small, however fleeting. And that reaching is its own kind of hope.
Maybe I’m getting too deep. Just go make something for fun.
Make something unimportant
Go cut and stick something. Go make something unimportant for the joy of making. It really is good for the soul. Sometimes the point isn’t what you make it’s what that making gives you…
Links and resources
If you'd like to make your own tiny art-book, I’ve got a blog and tutorial here about how to fold and cut it.
If you want a whole week of creative play you may like this free Art Oasis online retreat that I am teaching in
And if you're feeling the pull to go a little deeper in your creative practice, you might like to explore one of my self-paced classes they're full of ideas, encouragement and gentle art experimentation.
A creative treat…
A free online creative retreat October 18 - 24
Online art retreat October 18 - 24 20205
I’m delighted to let you know about something I’m currently taking part in, the Art Oasis, is a FREE online creative retreat happening now October 18–24, 2025 and hosted by artist Jessica Swift. You can still sign up and take part.
It’s shaping up to be a brilliant creative experience. For 7 days, artists (including me) will be sharing lessons, stories, and creative inspiration to help you slow down, refill your creative well, and remember how good it feels to make art just for YOU.
Here’s what you can expect each day:
4-5 fresh creative sessions every day for a total of 35+ workshops: lessons, demos, art-play, and soulful conversations.
Cozy Conversations real and relaxed, heart-opening talks with artists about their winding journeys, their creative practices, and what makes their spirits sing.
Gentle daily prompts + mini-inspirations to keep your hands moving, even on days you feel uninspired.
How it works
Watch online, anytime, anywhere, during the duration of the retreat, at your own pace. Watch one lesson or all of them, there are no rules and no risk. It’s completely FREE
Fit it into your schedule however works best for you
Grab inspiring free gifts from the featured artists.
If you want to extend your stay in the Oasis? You can purchase a VIP Pass
My sketchbook session
I’ll be teaching a free hour long playful sketchbook class.
My relaxed, session invites you to make two joyful pages, each featuring a vase or jug of blooms. We’ll start with just two pens and expand into playful, mixed-media layering. It’s light. It’s doable. And it’s designed to help you reconnect with your sketchbook without the pressure to perform or get it right. I’d love for you to join me.
This event is all about permission; to play, to explore, to create without pressure. If you’re craving that kind of creative joy, I hope I’ll see you inside the Art Oasis.
Things to know
After you sign up, you’ll have the option to upgrade to the VIP Pass if you'd like to, this gives you forever access to every lesson (including mine) and some incredible bonus content. If you grab it during registration, you’ll get the lowest price.
A quick note: I’m an affiliate for ART OASIS, which means if you decide to upgrade to the VIP unlimited access pass which is paid for, I’ll receive a small thank-you commission, at no extra cost to you. The summit/creative retreat October 18–24, 2025 itself is completely free and I only ever share things I personally recommend wholeheartedly and genuinely think you’ll love or find inspiring and useful.
Messing about in my sketchbook
Messing about in my sketchbook and looking at the work of artist Paul Klee…
And my love of Paul Klee
Music credit: Hand me a Guitar by Isobelle Walton via Epidemic Sound
Looking closely
In this video, I try to unpick a little of the magic in the work of German-Swiss artist Paul Klee by looking closely at one of his artworks and using the memory of it to inspire a sketchbook spread of my own.
Klee was the first artist I fell in love with. I think I was maybe 16 when I saw an exhibition of his in London… and I have loved his work ever since.
Creative alchemy
Klee’s Bauhaus studio was once brilliantly described as a “wizard’s kitchen” by a colleague of his, a space full of experiments, creative alchemy and artistic invention. It’s a great description that captures something essential about Klee’s approach to art making: playful, inventive, curious and perhaps a little magical.
He described his creative process as serious play, part science, part mystery. Klee believed that art should unfold like nature: transforming, evolving, becoming.
Respond not recreate
That’s partly why, in my own sketchbook, I’m not trying to replicate one of his pieces. I couldn’t if I tried. Instead I’m letting the memory of looking at one of his works The Movement of Vaulted Chambers from The Met’s Collection inspire a little play.
Trying to respond rather than recreate. Trying to let something evolve. Instead of asking “how can I copy this?” I’m asking, “what do I love about his painting?”
A new appreciation
And this excercise gave me a whole new appreciation for just how extraordinary his work is.
He makes it look effortless. But the more I tried to follow what I thought were perhaps “simple” moves, the more I realised how much depth and discipline sits beneath his work.
There’s boldness in his work, yes, but also incredible rigour and analytical prowess.
What looks intuitive is underpinned by precision.
There is something about this contrast of opposites, the way he balances freedom and control, boldness and precision, playfulness with discipline that I deeply admire…
A sketchbook is for discovery not perfect outcomes
I didn’t love everything about what I created in my sketchbook and I don’t mind at all.
The point of a sketchbook is to discover, not to create a perfect outcome. We practice, we learn, we try things and when they don’t quite work out, we use that knowledge to move us forward.
The value is nearly always in what was learned, not what was created.
I might revisit this page and see if I can add in a bit of the precision I found lacking or I might just leave it.
I enjoyed the process and the fact I did it, and I learned quite a lot by doing it. The end result is sort of unimportant…
Resources and info:
The book I show is one I’ve had for thirty years, Paul Klee 1879-1940, published in 1992 by Taschen and written by Susanna Partsch.
Paul Klee’s book about Sketchbooks is called The Pedagogical Sketchbook, which he wrote in 1925, it is still in print, published by Faber and translated by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy.
I mentioned that I enjoy looking at art works closely using Google Arts and Culture. Here is link to a small online exhibition of Paul Klee’s work.
The artwork by Klee I was looking at in the video is from called The Movement of Vaulted Chambers on the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s website.
The sketchbook I was using is a Venezia Book by Fabriano and the watercolour paint I was using was from Sennelier.
All my sketchbooks: evidence of showing up
Looking at all of my sketchbooks…
Music credit: Honey and Bees by Damon Greene via EpidemicSound
Gathering
This week I gathered all my sketchbooks together, I made space for them in a single old cabinet.
They had been scattered a little randomly across my house in various different places, piled up under desks, hiding on shelves, under sofas…in boxes and cupboards.
We had a major burst water pipe in our house a few years back which upended normality, we couldn’t live in our house for many months as it dried out and was rebuilt. It meant that every single item in our home was temporarily displaced and moved around again and again. So although everything is fixed and back to normal now, there are still a few pockets of residual chaos, some things never quite found their way back to where they belong…
Evidence of showing up
My nomadic sketchbooks have now been gathered together and for the first time they are all in one place.
And my cabinet of sketchbooks is really a delight to me.
As they were all together, I laid them out across the floor of my studio. A magic carpet of sketchbooks, colourful, chaotic and full of memories.
At first glance, it might just look like a cacophony of paint and scribbles. But to me, each book is evidence. Evidence of showing up, of taking the time, making the effort and putting one mark after another. They tell the story of the fact I’ve kept going.
A record of fascinations explored
Sketchbooks are where I’ve discovered who I am as an artist and what I am fascinated by. Looking back across so many pages, I can see my artistic fascinations reappear, evolve, and sometimes turn into whole bodies of work. They are a record of curiosity, a trail of breadcrumbs back through my creative history.
The compounding of ideas
One random page on its own may not look like much. But a hundred pages? A dozen books? They add up. The time would have passed anyway, but now I have something to show for it. Ideas compound, threads gather and slowly something bigger takes shape. It’s a reminder that creativity isn’t just about single flashes of inspiration, it’s about an accumulation of experiences, an accumulation of ideas.
Momentum and joy
I think of sketchbooks as momentum made visible. That every page, the messy ones, the lovely ones…are all part of a larger story. And when I lay them all out together, I see not just what I’ve made, but the kind of artist I’ve become by simply turning up to the page, again and again.
Why it matters
For me, the magic of sketchbooks isn’t just in the finished spreads, but in what they represent: perseverance, curiosity, commitment and joy. They remind me that the work of art making is less about rushing to outcomes and more about a commitment to creativity, one small decision at a time.
If you need encouragement to keep going, let this be it: small efforts add up.
And one day, you too might find yourself standing on your own “magic carpet” of sketchbooks, seeing just how far you’ve travelled.
Types of sketchbook
Here are some of the sketchbooks I like, but sketchbooks are a personal preference and come in so many different shapes, sizes and varieties, the sketchbook that is right for me, may not be right for you.
The best sketchbook to use is always the one you already own.
The Venezia Book from Fabriano
The Ebony Artist Book from Daler Rowney
(Some of these links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I actually use. )
PS: If reading this makes you want to spend more time in your own sketchbooks, you might enjoy my online classes. They’re all about curiosity, play, and building confidence in your art-making, one page at a time. You can explore them here:
Artist in Focus: Amy Maricle
An interview with artist Amy Maricle about her creative practice…
Imperfection, wonder and the power of baby steps…
This week is an artist-to-artist conversation with American artist Amy Maricle. We swap answers to the same set of questions about our art practice, sharing what’s magical, what’s maddening and what our future self would like us to hear.
Amy’s interview is below and you can read my interview over on her website.
About Amy Maricle
Amy Maricle is an artist, art therapist and author who is fascinated by the connections between nature and art. In her classes in art journaling, painting, bookmaking, and paper cutting, she teaches students to slow down and co-create with nature, using a playful creative process to find more joy and meaning. She is the author of Draw Yourself Calm: Draw Slow, Stress Less (North Light, 2022) and her art and writing have been featured in The New York Times.com, The Times London, and The Washington Post.com among others. You can check out her website here.
If you’d like to experiment with Amy’s nature-based drawing techniques, she is offering my readers an invitation to a free slow drawing workshop.
What is magical about your art practice?
Working in layers and in series is magical for me. It frees me up to let the work evolve without pressure. I almost always make numerous versions of the same thing, ‘what if…’ questions fueling endless iterations, and helping me to find my best work without the pressure of perfectionism.
On a recent trip to Greece, I noticed the dangling, parasol-like bloom of the aloe plant. Using small pieces of watercolor paper, I joyfully drew and painted many versions of it. I now have a 3 x 3 inch pop-up book where large blooms lift off the page and obscure little treasures, and the tiniest little aloe bloom hides beneath green misty doors. There’s a sense of intimacy and curiosity with pop-up books and small-scale art. I try to recapture the wonder we felt in childhood, but with an adult’s sensibilities.
Nature-based art feels magical to me. I ask questions like: How can I extrapolate a pattern from the whorl in my dog’s fur, or from the foam swirling on the river? When I reduce these patterns to their most basic elements, are they the same? What else in nature fits this structure? These questions fascinate me.
What is boring and frustrating about your art practice?
I hate measuring. In order to make journals and sketchbooks, you need to measure, and since I do it seasonally, not consistently, I don’t get into a rhythm with it. Each time I return to journal making, there is inevitably at least one mistake that I have to correct, and that is indeed boring and frustrating at times. With book making, I’ve had to learn the value of undoing and redoing stitches on a coptic bound journal, or re-cutting a set of accordion fold pages that land short, askew, or with a cut that went wrong. It’s worth it to make it right, because the journal is the foundation upon which my drawings, paintings, and paper-cuts sit, so I want to honor them.
Several years ago, I wouldn’t have had patience for this. I would have said, “Aw, it’s good enough,” but felt annoyed and discouraged. For me with art, there’s a funny balance between embracing imperfection to keep momentum and spontaneity, but also bringing my analytic mind to improve the work. It’s a dance that I enjoy and teach my students too.
Making my own journals gives me a feeling of self-sufficiency, and creative power, moreso because it doesn’t come easy to me. The patience for painstaking tasks has only come to me after learning to practice slow art.
What does your inner voice say on a good day?
My inner critic is really loud in some other areas of my life, but thankfully, with age this self-doubt has softened. I’m not sure what my inner voice has to say about my art. With art, occasionally of course I feel on stage, or worry I won’t measure up in some way. But mostly I’ve put myself in a position to be in my own lane, my own line of inquiry where I get to investigate what interests me artistically and follow it as far as time and energy allow. I guess I put blinders on to some degree, and shield my work from people who I know don’t care for it, so that the inner critic stays calm and unworried. I also think I have the advantage of positive reinforcement from my students. It’s encouraging when so many people want to learn from you. It makes you feel that you must be doing something right. I try to practice the dance between playful art and carefully crafted art. So it’s a blend of practicing and learning skills, and letting the ideas run wild and take me in new directions. So I guess the voice is mostly just curious and excited. She says, “Hey, what if we did this? Ooh, wouldn’t that be cool? What if we did that? That would be interesting too!”
What does your inner voice say on a bad day?
If I think about the few times I can recall a negative inner voice with my art - I remember once on a retreat with a lovely group of women - one of the less experienced students made a critical comment while I was demonstrating blind contour drawing. I had just finished saying that you can let things be loose and not the best to start, and she said something about how it was indeed not the best. 😂 Naturally, since I was demonstrating to a class, I felt a bit embarrassed and for a moment I questioned whether my art wasn’t good enough. But I also immediately recognized that this was the voice of a scared inner critic. She was letting me know she needed permission to screw up too.
When I was young I loved singing and theatre. My favorite director had invited me to perform as the only high school student with his troupe of college actors. When I arrived to perform my monologue for the other students for the first time, he smartly realized that I might feel pressure to be good. The invitation he gave me was a powerful one that I never forgot. He said, “I want you to screw up right now as much as possible.” I try to live out that advice of working out the kinks, working towards my best, but giving myself space to figure it out imperfectly.
What’s a small thing that delights you?
There are so many small things that bring me joy: Writing and scribbling in a big journal and the big ideas that arrive there. The sound of paper. A good fountain pen. Playing with hand lettering. Painting a simple, beautiful mark again and again. Looking long and deeply at plants, mosses, and tide pools. The way nature’s patterns repeat across species, down to the cell level and into the stars. Carrying a small journal and a pen so I can capture inspiration and draw any time. The way watercolor pigment moves on wet cotton paper.
What’s a big thing that scares you?
When my body doesn’t want to cooperate with my plans due to aches and pains I get scared. I love to go run, bike, hike, and lift. I once heard someone say, “Our bodies are incredible machines - it’s like we all have a lamborghini sitting in the garage. I want to take it out for a spin and see what it can do.” I love that.
What would your 12 year-old-self have to say about the way you are living your life?
I felt compelled to create a dialogue between me and my younger self::
Young Amy: Whoa! You are an artist? How do you have patience to do all those tiny, teeny drawings? They must take forever! I would hate that. How did you get to enjoy that?
Amy Now: I know, it’s crazy right? Who would have thought I’d learn the patience to do something so meticulous? Part of the secret is that I don’t plan it out. Just like when you draw mandalas, or make patterns on your sneakers with puffy paint, I let it evolve naturally, making a mark here and a mark there. With tiny marks, you build up patience over time, especially by drawing and painting slowly. Now I have the patience to do things I couldn’t before, like sew, or push myself to make my watercolor paintings look the way I want. It’s all about doing things in baby steps. That’s how you’ll do it too.
Young Amy: Your art is so cool, I mean my art is so cool! Ha! So, you own your own business? Do you have to deal with numbers and things? I would hate that.
Amy Now: That definitely scared me at first. But just like in the Delaware River on that tubing trip when you had to dig your feet into the riverbed as the current threatened to carry you off, I found some tools and people to support me, and I learned I’m capable of much more than I thought. Being a business owner is an evolving process. I’m learning all the time, and I even enjoy parts of it tremendously. Serving others is an amazing gift, and I know how much that matters to you, you’ve got this.
What would your 85 year-old-self have to say about the way you are living your life?
I’m surprised, but I really don’t know how to answer this one. I think she might say:
Make sure you make enough time for slow, deep art, and writing.
Put that stupid phone down.
Do one thing at a time.
Make the art.
Keep kicking ass.
If you’d like to experiment with Amy’s nature-based drawings, she is offering my readers an invitation to a free slow drawing workshop.
A creative refuel
Walking in nature, drawing, exploring and refuelling my creativity.
Summer always feels like a time of year when I need to refill and refuel my creativity.
A time to replenish my sense of wonder. A time to be more introspective and less productive. Our creativity can by cyclical and right now, mine is calling for spaciousness, for slowness.
In this season I try and respect this natural rhythm of mine and do things which nourish and nurture my creativity. My creative re-fuelling usually involves some mix of:
Writing and reflecting
Journaling helps me untangle thoughts and tune back in. It’s where I listen to myself. I write about what I’m drawn to, what feels exciting, what I want more of, what I want to leave behind. I ask questions I don’t always have the answers to.
Reading
When I feel creatively tired, reading feels like a nourishing reset. I often turn to books about art or creativity, or stories that take me somewhere unexpected. Sometimes reading about how others see the world helps me better understand how I see it too.
Looking at art
Visiting galleries, paging through art books, sitting with a painting in real life, all of it feeds something in me. Just looking, noticing, feeling what stirs and connects.
Learning
I take classes often, because I love to be reminded that there are always new ways to see and new things to try. I love how even one new idea or tool can unlock something unexpected. It’s often less about mastering a technique and more about opening a new door.
Time in nature and walking in new places
A slow walk, for me is often a return to wonder.. Letting myself follow what I notice: the shape of a shadow, the texture of a wall, a tangle of leaves. Just letting myself be surprised. Letting myself be fed by the beauty of the natural world.
Playing about
Some days I get out materials and just play. No plan, no pressure. I remind myself that this doesn’t have to be anything. It doesn’t have to lead to anything. It can just feel good. It can just be weird and messy and mine. And paradoxically ithis energy and attitude does often lead me somewhere interesting.
More drawing as exploring
Drawing slows me down. It helps me pay attention to the page, to the world, to myself. It’s a way of discovering, embedding an experience in your psyche, connecting head, hand and heart…
So this summer, I’ll be making space for nature, for noticing, for reading, for writing, for playing with art materials with no expectations. I’m not following a plan. I’m letting curiosity be the compass. Letting what feels nourishing and delightful gently guide me in the right direction…
Materials
In this video I was drawing on the beach using two types of pencil:
Faber Castell Pitt Pencil Matt Graphite Pencil 14B
Staedtler Mars Lumograph Pencil 9B
These links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I actually use.
Let Nature Lead Your Art…
If you’re in need of a little creative refuelling and would like to make art inspired by nature, take a look at Nature and Nurture. This gentle, self-paced course invites you to explore natural forms, playful drawing, and semi-abstract mixed media, all rooted in the beauty of organic shapes, plants, and flowers.
“Each video causes me to think! As ever, your classes cheer me up and inspire me.” Janice
Available now for £48.
Giving ideas space and time
The art of slow, creative nourishment…
This is a love letter to slowness, open spaces and trusting our internal rhythms.
I naturally lean toward pace and productivity, hard work, maximum effort, ticking boxes, getting stuff done.
For years, I chased down life. Chased down ideas. I felt a constant pressure, self-imposed, mostly, to do more, move faster… to perhaps outrun self-doubt with high output.
I was never good at resting, or giving myself or my creativity time to breathe.
But in recent years, I’ve had to do things very differently. And I have learned to see things very differently too.
A stretch of ill health gave me no choice but to slow down. To rest. To stop pushing. To sit in the stillness I would’ve once rushed right past or filled right up.
And in that slowing down, I can now see just how unhelpful and unhealthy my old pace was.
Some of the best, most interesting creative moments? They don’t arrive when they’re being chased. They arrive when they’re being gently coaxed and given space to unfurl. They sneak up when I’m doing not much. When I’m sitting quietly, letting my thoughts drift with no goal, no plan. When I’m messing about in my sketchbook with no expectation of outcome. When I’m playing with art supplies and paper with no ambition of producing something important. That’s when ideas start to arrive, to call to me, to surprise me.
But giving yourself that kind of space is hard. It can feel wrong, lazy and unproductive.
We’ve been taught to chase the result, to be productive at all costs. But honestly?
I now realise that ideas often appear when we stop trying so hard. I’ve learned that good ideas rarely arrive on demand. They need room. They need time. They need the kind of space that we often rush to fill.
There’s a concept in Gestalt therapy I love and have mentioned before called the fertile void. It’s the space between things. The gap before the next step. And it can be rich, potent, wildly creative. Not because you're doing more, but because you're doing less. Trusting more. Forcing less.
There’s a reason we say, “let it percolate.” Real creativity isn’t a sprint. It’s more like a long, weird, wonderful conversation. You can’t always force it, or even see it happening.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t. I used to panic in those quieter stretches when nothing seemed to be happening. Now, I try to make room for them, welcome them, positively embrace them.
Because not every season is meant for high output. Some are for wandering. Some are for wondering. And some are just... for waiting. Not every idea needs action right away. Some just need to be held. Noticed. Listened to. Kindled and coaxed. Allowed to percolate…
The book I show in the video is Folkish by Victionary Press, Hong Kong published May 2025.
Types of sketchbook
Here are some of the sketchbooks I like, but sketchbooks are a personal preference and come in so many different shapes, sizes and varieties, the sketchbook that is right for me, may not be right for you.
The best sketchbook to use is always the one you already own.
The Venezia Book from Fabriano
Stillman & Birn, Zeta Range
Talens Art Creation Sketchbooks
(Some of these links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I actually use. )
Keep reading…
Art inspiration is everywhere…
Slowing down enough to notice…
Music credit: Supine, Peter Sandberg
This week, I walked to the train station. Nothing remarkable. Just the usual fifteen-minute route through the centre of town. But instead of rushing I slowed down. On purpose.
I set myself a small task: Notice what catches your eye. Not the big, obvious things, but the tiny, hidden interesting shapes and patterns, motifs and moments.
I paid attention to the shadows cast by railings. The silhouette of a plants against a clear sky. Stripes of fencing, angular and imperfect.
Noticing became a kind of tuning fork, helping me tune back into my own visual sensitivities. That part of me that’s sensitive to shape and pattern. Line and contrast. Colour and texture.
I paused often.
Not to capture the perfect photo, to simply notice. And as I looked, I found more.
More shapes. More visual whispers that I’d perhaps normally pass by.
It reminded me that inspiration doesn’t shout. It waits for us to seek it out, to pay close attention, to slow down enough to notice it…
This kind of wandering and wondering is one of the easiest creative practices I know. A way to gather and reflect. Because inspiration doesn’t always come from grand views or planned studio time.
Sometimes it starts in the space between errands, on a Friday morning. Walking through the centre of town, looking and really seeing.
If you try it, you might be surprised by what reveals itself.
Materials
Here are some of the materials I was using in this video:
The paper I am using is mostly Academia Paper from Fabriano
The large A3 sketchbook is from a British brand called Daler Rowney
The small sketchbook is a Venezia Book from Fabriano
The black brush pen I am using is a Pentel pen similar to this one
The glue I am using was Liquitex Matt Gel Medium
(Some of these links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I actually use. )
Recommended Reads:
Creative compost and joining the dots…
A few thoughts on what my sketchbooks are really for…
Music credit: Stepping Stones, Laura Platt
Creative compost
Sometimes people ask me how I copy my sketchbook pages into paintings. The answer is I don’t…
I don’t think of my sketchbook as a precursor, a rough draft, or a plan to follow.
It’s more like creative compost.
Slow growing sparks
Sketchbooks are the place where ideas are scattered, layered, scribbled, left to percolate.
Some grow slowly. Some never go anywhere. Some spark something else entirely.
I come back to pages from years ago that have been quietly waiting for me, I spot something and and think “yes, this”…
And sometimes things just appear in my paintings because of artistic muscle memory, things get lodged in the artistic psyche, embedded into the visual venacular because they were once explored and unpacked in a sketchbook.
A sketchbook can be the compost and soil where ideas take root, the archive where ideas rest or the workbench where they’re shaped.
Trust the dots will connect
Nothing is wasted, everything feeds everything…
I like this idea from Apple’s founder Steve Jobs, he’s talking about life, it also applies perfectly to sketchbooks and art:
“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something, your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”
~ Steve Jobs, Stanford Commencement Speech 2005
‘Trust that things will somehow connect in the future’ seems like a great philosophy for art making.
My sketchbook isn’t where I plan a painting, it is more like the soil, the compost, the place from which everything grows, the place from which all the dots eventually connect…maybe.
Art supplies
The sketchbooks I am using in this video is the Venezia Book from Fabriano.
The heavy body paint is called Sennelier Abstract Innovative Acrylic Paint
(Some of these links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I use. )
Over and over. Again and again.
Repetition isn’t always boring…
Repetition isn’t boring. Returning to the same subject, again and again can be illuminating.
It’s not unoriginal. It’s a way of noticing, paying attention, discovering.
A way of building muscle memory, of distilling what you love.
Each return becomes an ongoing creative conversation. Not a rut, more like a rhythm.
A variation on a theme as old as art-making itself.
You don’t always need something new.
Sometimes you just need to stay. To linger. To return.
To pay closer attention to what already lights you up.
That’s how you learn about yourself as an artist. Again and again. Over and over…
P.S. These sketchbook pages grew out of an idea I teach inside Sketchbook Magic: Experimenting with Colour & Pattern If you’d like to try it too, the class is always open, always available for £20.
Joy as a compass…
Thoughts on finding a style and leaning in to what you love…
I used to think I had to “find my style.” Pick a lane. Pick a niche. Pick a version of myself that made sense on the internet.
But the more I tried to choose...the less like me it all felt. So I stopped chasing a style. And I started following joy.
The delight of a scribbled mark.
Colour combinations that made my heart sing.
The lines that happen when you’re not overthinking, when you’re not trying too hard. And after years of this, I can tell you: You don’t have to find your style. If you follow what feels good, it’ll find you.
You don’t have to find your style. If you follow what feels good, it’ll find you.
Because joy isn’t just a feeling or a byproduct of art making. It’s the compass. The method. The map that leads you home within your own your art.
Paying attention to all the things you love in your own art is the best way I know to make art that feels good and that embodies your style…
P.S. Joy Filled Flowers is a self-paced sketchbook class that helps you loosen up, experiment with mixed media, and bring joy back into your creative process and sketchbook practice. Online. On-demand. £58
From bold colour to black and white.
I’ve just finished some colourful paintings. But in my sketchbook things are black and white…
Music credit: Beauty in the Mundane by Bird of Figment
I’ve just finished some colourful paintings. But in my sketchbook things are black and white.
There’s a kind of ease I find in black and white. A clarity. A calmness. A confidence.
Colour is beautiful, but it asks for a lot of decisions. Black and white strips that away.
No second-guessing shades. No hunting for the perfect combination. That’s why I often return to monochrome as a sketchbook practice. Just simple tools and simple choices.
It lets me get going and keep going.
Simple and strong
It’s not plain. It’s powerful. High contrast. Strong composition. Every mark holds more presence and fewer choices mean more flow.
Working in black and white helps me focus more on composition, the shapes, the balance, the space between things. There’s a simplicity to it that I find really pleasing.
Fewer choices. More momentum.
When the palette is limited, I notice different things: The weight of a line. The balance of space. The relationship between forms.
Composition becomes clearer. Decisions come faster. There’s less second-guessing. More doing.
Why it works (especially when life feels full)
Because simplicity quietens the noise. Because constraints build momentum. Because joy often lives in the simplest things.
Black and white invites you to notice more, not less. To pare back. To pay attention. To create without pressure.
And sometimes it just feels very satisfying.
Try this:
Next time you feel stuck, try removing colour from the equation. Pick up one pen, one pencil, one sheet and begin. You might be surprised by how powerful simple can feel.
Books mentioned in video
How Painting Happens and Why is Matters by Martin Gayford, published by Thanes and Hudson, 2024
Barbara Rae Monograph, published by The Royal Academy 2025
Links to artist mentioned in video
Materials and art supplies mentioned in video
I purchase a lot of my pens, pencils and inks from an independent British shop called Cult Pens it has a phenomenal range and great customer service.
It has a refer a friend programme, so if you use this link to purchase you can get 10% off your first purchase and I get a 10% discount off my next purchase too. Or here are the direct links with no discount:
Sailor Fude de Mannen Calligraphy Fountain Pen
Sketchbook
The sketchbook I am using in this video is the Venezia Book from Fabriano.
(This is an affiliate link, if you buy something through this, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)
PS: My self-paced online art classes are here to support possibility and play, with lessons built around exploration, composition, and the unexpected details that make your work feel truly yours. No pressure. Just quiet encouragement, creative rhythm, and joyful exploration. Start anytime. Come back often. Make more art..
Tired and uninspired? Borrow my sketchbook ritual
You don’t have to wait to feel inspired to make art.
When I’m tired, under-inspired, or my mojo feels a little so-so, I don’t reach for brilliance. I try not to expect too much of myself. I reach for my sketchbook, a place to meander, freewheel, and gently find my way back to creativity.
No pressure. No performance. Just low-stakes creating. I don’t perfect. I don’t polish. I don’t pretend. I open my sketchbook. Not like it’s an art gallery, but a playground. Its pages aren’t for applause or approval. They’re a route back to delight. A sketchbook isn’t the stage. It’s the backstage.
My gentle rituals
Here’s what helps when I need to soften the edges of perfectionism:
1. Start easy
Look for the simplest way in. Often I’ll dig out something I’ve already made and use it like a guide rope into something new. When the goal is simply to begin, familiarity becomes fuel.Reassuring. Cosy. Comforting.
2. Limit supplies
Less choice. Less decisions. More play.
In this video I just use a little Indian ink from Jackson’s art and one Derwent Inktense pencil in my Fabriano Sketchbook. The large brush I am using is a pointed mop brush
Ps. These are affiliate links to products I use myself and genuinely enjoy in my own sketchbook practice. Thank you for supporting me if you choose to use them.
3. Narrow the palette
Constraints aren’t a cage. They free you from the overwhelm of too many options.
4. Set a short timeframe
Give yourself a short timeframe. Long enough to soften resistance. Short enough to slip past perfectionism.
5. Add surprise
Something playful. Unexpected. A strange mix of materials. A new way to hold the brush. A weird tool. Surprise isn’t just fun it leads to discovery.
Inspiration arrives quietly
Inspiration doesn’t arrive on command. It tiptoes in through low expectations and inky hands. A sketchbook isn’t about getting it right. It’s about finding your way back to flow. Back to energy. Back to the part of you that creates simply because it feels good to create. It’s where the mess is allowed. I like the idea of joy wearing joggers. Joy returns in those relaxed moments when we’re not forcing or performing, or chasing some false idea of what "good" looks like.
Because good looks like doing something. Anything at all.
A sketchbook isn’t a stage. It’s a place of freedom.
So next time you feel tired or uninspired, don’t reach for brilliance.
Reach for the simplest starting point.
Reach for the messy lines.
Reach for the small thing may bring you joy.
P.S. Want more supportive creative guidance? Explore my self-paced classes here, full of joyful, no-pressure lessons to nurture your art practice.
Don’t edit your soul: eclectic creativity
Our art is a web of ideas, influences, and obsessions entwined and weaved together.
When I started working as an artist I thought that it was important to be known for one thing, to have one definite signature style, that perhaps having multiple creative interests at once was evidence of a lack of focus, a lack of commitment, that it was a form of indecision. I was wrong. I’ve discovered that the more I follow my diverse curiosities, the more I let them overlap and combine, the more personal and rewarding my art making becomes. Your art doesn’t have to be just one thing.
“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”
Quote Source: Anne Rice in the Foreword to The Metamorphosis and Other Stories by Franz Kafka. Translation to English by Willa and Edwin Muir, 1995 Schocken Books, New YorkDon’t water it down. Don’t make it logical. Don’t edit your soul.
A web of ideas, not a straight line
Our art is a web of ideas, influences, and obsessions entwined and weaved together. I’m always gathering fragments, following multiple ideas at once, and trusting that, the connections will reveal themselves.
Over time, I’ve realised that my numerous inspirations, ideas and techniques aren’t separate at all, they’re just waiting to be woven together. Seemingly unrelated ideas often merge in surprising ways, creating something richer and more personal than I could have planned. Creativity is found in the connections. It thrives in the in-between places, in the surprising combinations, in the moments when you say, What if I put this with that?
Painting in progress
Shapes and ideas in older sketchbooks
Paintings in progress
Interesting colour combinations
Notes to myself
A pile of sketchbooks
Sketchbook pages from 2021
Old sketchbook pages
Embracing diverse fascinations
We each have a distinct visual language, a distinct set of interests, shaped by our experiences, influences, and life. The magic happens when we allow these curiosities to run free, to overlap, mix and combine. When we embrace all the disparate pieces of our art, of ourselves, of our obsessions, of our small and large love affairs…we build a body of work that is undeniably ours.
Finding combinations and correlations
For me, a sketchbook is more than a place to experiment, it’s where I notice and gather all the loose threads of my creativity, unedited, unfiltered. It is where I pursue, unpick and unpack my varied obsessions and fascinations.
It’s a personal space to explore without pressure. A place to see how different ideas interact. A place to let patterns emerge naturally. Over time, I’ve found that the act of collecting, curating, and layering ideas in my sketchbook has allowed me to know more about myself as an artist. Gathering and noticing. Gathering and noticing. Gathering and noticing.
We are the makers of our own music
Even when ideas seem scattered, they’re never truly separate. We are the conductors of the orchestra and the makers of the music. Some ideas rise to the surface, while others linger quietly, waiting for the right moment, some combine to make a compelling harmony.
Loose ends and messy pieces
The beauty of an eclectic approach is that it allows for unexpected connections, ones we might never have discovered if we had tried to force everything into a rigid or logical framework. So, embrace the loose ends. Trust that the disparate threads of your creativity will find their way together in time if they need to. Don’t edit your soul.
Your unique artistic voice isn’t found in how neatly everything aligns, it’s in how you weave together all the messy pieces that make you, you.
Artists and books mentioned in the video
Book: Patrick Heron, by Mel Gooding, 1995 published by Phaidon Press
Patrick Heron info on Hazlitt Holland-Hibbert art gallery website
Pierre Bonnard article from the Tate Modern
Cezanne article from the Art Institute of Chicago
Franz Kafka’s Drawings article from Artland Magazine
Exploring and enjoying colour
Seeking colour inspiration and ideas. Talking about paint and colour in my sketchbook…
I have been playing with colour and paint in my sketchbook, making messy kaleidoscopes of colour.
This process has been freeing and surprisingly illuminating and I wanted to share some of it with you. These colour explorations have not been about technique, finished composition or overthinking; but more about curiosity and experience.
Colour interactions
The painted pages in my sketchbook explore colour relationships, colour combinations and colour interactions.
Building up pages of paint smears, smudges, blobs, spots and stripes of colour to explore how different colours work in relationship to each other. Not worrying about the overall compositon, just thinking about colour relationships. Not worrying how the pages look as a whole, but searching for interesting and exciting colour interactions and moments.
A sketchbook is a great place to run free and try things out, to explore, experiment and go a little wild, to discover things about colour which we can then integrate into future creations or more considered paintings.
The pages I have created as a whole may look messy and confused, but there are fascinating colour interactions hidden amongst the chaos.
I’ve some taken some close up, detail photographs of a few of the colour combinations I spotted within the pages.
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Details from my painted colourful sketchbook pages
Colours are relative
Colours are relative. They change depending on the colours they are next to and the best way to find interesting colour combinations that work together is often to experiment and experience.
Colour is emotional
Colour is emotional. Our colour sense is deeply personal. The colours we personally prefer are often linked to individual experiences, memories and things from our own life. Paying attention to the different colour interactions that you love and noticing how colours make you feel can be a powerful part of developing art which feels personal to you.
Helen Frankenthaler the American abstract expressionist said about colour:
"When I choose a colour it’s not because of scientific theory. It comes from observation, from feeling, from the soul.”
A finished painting inspired by colour references in my sketchbook
The colour references in my sketchbook that helped me as I worked on these painting
A few simple ways to explore colour
If you’d like to experiment with colour here are a few ideas you may like to try:
Create colourful pages of stripes, spots or squares
Using a ‘ready made’ compositional structure such as stripes or spots, can help you explore a whole range of colour ideas within a very defined parameter. They don’t have to be neat and precise.
Seek interesting moments of colour
My painted pages may look confusing as a whole but they contain many interesting colourful moments. Fill a page full of colourful daubs and smears and then use your phone or camera to seek interesting colourful compositions or combinations within the whole.
Create colour moods
Choose a word or emotion i.e. restful, vibrant, tender, and mix colours that match how that specific word feels to you. It’s a beautiful way to connect with your intuition and stretch your colour vocabulary.
Permission to make a mess granted
Let’s release the idea that colour swatching has to be neat and orderly. Let the paint drip. Let colours clash. Paint over something. Try something that feels wrong. Try colours you don’t immediately love. Some of the best breakthroughs happen when we give ourselves permission to mess it up.
Courage and curiousity
Colour theory is helpful, but so is intuition and experience. A willingness to experiment, observe, and respond to what excites you can lead you in interesting directions. Learning through experimentation can be invaluable and illuminating.
Your sketchbook is the perfect place for this kind of colour adventure. No pressure. No rules. Just colour, curiosity, and a little bit of courage.
Artists mentioned in the video:
A gentle approach to your creativity
Paintings and art book inspiration…
I have been reminded that there is a quiet magic in allowing our art to unfold at its own pace.
Rushing to the finish line can be counter productive. I’m often in a hurry to get somewhere and sometimes I just need to remind myself to amble, take my time, slow down.
I’d been working on some paintings. In the last video I shared some of their progress and said they were nearly finished. I left them for a few days to gain some objectivity.
When I came back to them I realised they were very far from finished. I was guilty of trying to rush to completion. I needed to work on them more slowly. I should let them unfurl at a quieter pace. Resist the urge to push ahead too quickly. I should just let them take as long as they take, no expectations, no time constraints. Be less impatient.
And that’s exaclty what I did. I slowed my pace right down and spent many more enjoyable hours on the paintings…over several weeks.
In a world that often encourages speed and productivity, I believe there is deep wisdom to be found in slowing down, in approaching our creativity with softness and gentleness. What if, instead of pushing, we let our art unfurl, gently, quietly, at its own pace.
Flow not force
Creativity is not about force; it is about flow.
I often have to check and change my expectations. Get out of my own way. Approach my work as an ongoing conversation. Make a mark. Observe. Listen. Let the next move reveal itself. Accept that the paintings will take as long as they will take.
Listening for wisdom
When we allow ourselves more space and time for reflection, we create room for our inner voice to emerge. It can be tempting to rush to the finish line. Often our deepest creative instincts whisper quietly, they emerge slowly, when given enough space, they do not shout.
Nurturing creativity like a loving parent
Our creativity is tender, it flourishes with gentle encouragement. I often think we should consider our creativity as we would a young child, offering reassurance, delighting in small discoveries, providing space for exploration, space to try things, replacing pressure and expectation with kindness and compassion.
The beauty of slow
There is no rush. The advice I needed to give myself and am now sharing with you is; Let your art unfurl, slowly and beautifully. Trust in its natural timing. Trust in yourself.
Interesting things and links
In the video I share the book Painting as a Last Resort, about artist Mathew Wong and Vincent Van Gough, written by Joost van der Hoeven, Kenny Schachter, Richard Schiff and John Yau, published by Thames and Hudson, 2024
The Van Gough Museum in Amsterdam has a great page of info and videos about the exhibition which was on in 2024. You can also see the virtual tour of the Mathew Wong exhibition on Youtube.
One of the artist’s Matthew Wong was influenced by was Brenda Goodman. You can see some of her work on the website of the Pamela Salisbury Gallery in New York
Wong was also influenced by the work of Katherine Bradford. You can read a brilliant interview about Katherine’s work on the website of authour Rosie Osbourne
Abstract painting process
The process and progress of paintings: hope and uncertainty
Setting a direction
I am working on some new small paintings. The way I paint involves hope and optimism.
I have no idea how these paintings will develop or what they will become. I just have to trust that I can navigate my way through, one decision at a time. There is a paradox in the painting process I find, it involves both a ‘letting go’ and the tenacity of ‘keeping going’.
Before I began this series, I spent time thinking about the kind of paintings I wanted to create.
I looked back at my sketchbooks and created some studies, thinking about how I wanted these new works to feel. I wrote down a few guiding words; antique embroidery, weird and wonderful vessels, pattern and lines, hidden treasure, spaciousness coupled with complexity.
There is no one way to build a painting
There is no one way to build a painting. My process suits me. I build up layer after layer of richness, colour and paint. Holding my intentions loosely. Responding to what is. Letting go of the plans and perhaps heading in a different direction entirely. I never know how my paintings will turn out until they are finished. I quite enjoy this uncertainty. And these paintings took an unexpected direction…
The layered process
Painting in layers is both a process of discovery and concealment. The ability to add and obscure makes painting with acrylics a dance between flow and frustration. Often, the final painting only really reveals itself in the later stages.
I find that a painting tends to evolve in distinct phases:
1. Play and possibility
The early layers are free and experimental. I tend to start with a single colour ground, just a single colour covering the whole board. Then I add paint marks and coloured shapes. Knowing that only small remnants of these layers may show in the finished work allows for boldness and spontaneity.
2. The messy middle
The painting process can feel like a tussle at this stage. The composition starts to emerge, but the painting oscillates between looking promising and looking lost. It often feels like a wrangle, I have to paint over sections I love to find a composition that works. Some days, I leave the studio feeling like the paintings are worse than when I started, some days everything flows beautifully. This stage always seems to require tenacity and hope.
3. Refinement and resolution
I keep turning up and making one decision after another. Gradually, clarity arrives. The painting begins to make sense, and I shift into refining details, making small adjustments until everything feels in place.
The obstacle is the way
As Marcus Aurelius put it nearly 2000 years ago: “The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
I welcome the difficult bits and the problem solving involved in creating a painting. The grit makes the pearl. I don’t really want the painting process to always feel easy and simple. I don’t want to know how a painting will turn out before I’ve even started. Sometimes I like the challenge of working through obstacles. The reward is in the overcoming of the difficult bits and developing something that feels good to me.
Capturing wisdom
I take time to reflect as I work and once the paintings are complete. Taking stock. Capturing wisdom. Understanding my own creative process strengthens my intuition and deepens my artistic practice. Here are some questions I ask myself, perhaps they will be helpful to you too:
What did I learn?
What worked?
What do I want to remember for next time?
What did I enjoy?
What are my observations on the process?
What advice do I want to give myself?
To be continued…
Painting is not always a smooth journey, but the good bits and the problem solving are what makes it a meaningful endeavour. It’s in the layers, both the literal ones and in those of experience that we find satisfaction, that we create art that feels like our own, that means something to us.
I will come back and show you how these paintings turned out. I also intend to do another series which is closer to the original indigo and white studies, but let’s see what actually happens…
Materials
These paintings are still works in progress, but were made on 30cm x 30cm wooden panels from Cowling and Wilcox using a variety of paint including: Sennelier Heavy Body Paint, Daler and Rowney FW Ink and Liquitex Soft Body Paint
Layering ideas
Thoughts on developing new ideas, sketchbooks and handmade sketchbooks made of old papers…
There’s something magical about flipping back through old sketchbooks. The pages are a container for our past ideas, experiments, and creative selves, some ideas are fully realised, others are only partially explored and developed.
What if these pages contained the sign posts to something entirely new?
Small sketchbooks made from scraps and abandoned pages
One of my favourite creative exercises is revisiting old sketchbooks and creations and weaving together different ideas, techniques, and themes to create something new. Layering together ideas as a way of honouring past explorations while pushing into new territory.
If you’re feeling stuck, uninspired, or just curious to see where your work can go, you may like to try this for yourself.
Gather and reflect
Start by pulling out a few of your older sketchbooks or art works, especially the ones you haven’t looked at in a while. Consider your work without judgment. Instead of critiquing, observe with curiosity. What stands out? Are there patterns, motifs, or color combinations that still excite you? Maybe there’s an old idea or composition that didn’t quite work at the time but feels full of potential now.
Hunting for clues
Look for ideas to pick and mix, mix and match. Are there any sketches, techniques, or themes that you could combine together that perhaps you wouldn’t normally put together. Maybe you have a page of delicate floral studies and another filled with bold, abstract mark-making. What happens if you created something new which combines these two ideas? Or perhaps there’s a color palette from one thing that could breathe new life into a completely different subject.
Try making a list of interesting pairings, that you gather from your own creations:
Watercolor washes + intricate pen line-work
Geometric collage shapes + loose gestural painting
Drawn details over bold botanical shapes
A sketch from years ago + a technique you’ve recently mastered
Pick and mix experiments
Now it’s time to play. Create a new piece or sketchbook page inspired by what you have found. Let go of expectations and approach it as an experiment. Maybe it turns into a finished piece, or maybe it’s just a stepping stone toward something else, but either way, it moves you forward.
Here are some more suggestions of ways to mix things up:
Redraw an old sketch using a completely different medium
Redraw an old sketch using a completely different set of colours
Take a tiny detail from an old sketch and scale it up into a full composition.
Concept stack. Take three completely different ideas from different sketchbook pages, or previous creations and combine them into something new.
Let it evolve
Creativity thrives on curiosity, so don’t be afraid to push the boundaries a little. What happens if you introduce an unexpected element? What if you challenge yourself to work in a size or format you’ve never tried before? Sometimes, the most exciting breakthroughs happen when we step up to and outside of, our comfort zones.
The beauty of looking back
Revisiting old work isn’t about repeating the past necessarily, it’s about mining it for lost treasure and using it as a bridge to something new.
Every sketchbook holds layers of who we were as artists at different points in time, and when we mix those layers together, we often uncover something surprising.
So, the next time you feel stuck, flip through your own work with fresh eyes. The inspiration you need might already be waiting for you in what you have already created.
Our previous work can give us a sign post to our future creations…
A love letter to sketchbooks
A love letter to sketchbooks…
There’s no one right way to do anything, and that includes keeping a sketchbook.
My sketchbooks feel like a motley gang of unruly but beloved friends, each one different, with its own quirks and oddities. And that’s exactly why I love them, not in spite of their weirdness, but because of it.
You know that saying about friends: “They come into your life for a season, a reason, or a lifetime”?
I think it applies to art-making and sketchbooks too. I look back at certain sketchbooks and remember those seasons of life so vividly, times when a sketchbook was an escape from life’s upheaval, a place of quiet creativity or times when it was simply a place of carefree art adventure.
Sketchbooks: A powerful creative tool
A sketchbook can be one of the most powerful creative tools an artist possesses.
For me, they’ve been life-changing. They’ve helped me move from hesitation to confidence, from creative uncertainty to finding my artistic voice. My sketchbooks have been a springboard into a more colorful and creative life. If you’ve ever considered keeping a sketchbook, here are a few reasons why you may like to start or re-start.
Making art for yourself
There is something deeply nourishing about making art just for yourself. Experimenting in a sketchbook can lift the spirits and bring immense joy. The simple act of transforming a blank page into something alive with meaning, color, and line is rewarding in itself. A sketchbook is a private place where we can have a creative conversation with ourselves. For me, it has been where I have learnt to be less critical and judgemental of myself and my art.
So many pages, so many opportunities, so much possibility has helped me loosen my attachment to how any one thing turns out…it just doesn’t matter.
A place to begin
Sketchbooks are where we find out about our own art sensibilities, not where we show up fully formed. They are part of the journey, not the final destination.
When we start working in a sketchbook, it helps to embrace a beginner’s mindset—to stay open, curious, and willing to explore. It’s okay to make mistakes, things that haven’t worked teach us something. We don’t need to expect too much from ourselves. I love this idea from Vincent Van Gogh:
“I am always doing what I can’t do yet, in order to learn how to do it.”
A place to learn and grow
In a world obsessed with outcomes, a sketchbook offers a space for discovery. It allows us to explore our interests, experiment with techniques, develop and flex the ways in which we make art. A sketchbook is where we learn what excites us creatively, where we test ideas, push our boundaries, refine our process, and reflect on our evolving art practice.
A place to practice
It is called an art practice for a reason, a sketchbook is a great place to practice and track the progression of an idea, skill or approach.
A filing cabinet of ideas
A sketchbook is more than just a collection of drawings—it’s a filing cabinet for your creativity. It gathers fragments of inspiration, allowing us to flip through pages and spot recurring patterns, themes, and ideas. Over time, our sketchbooks reveal what captivates us, helping us refine our artistic identity.
Begin where you are
A sketchbook is a companion, a teacher, a playground.
It doesn’t demand perfection. It invites exploration. It reminds us that creativity is not about flawless execution but about showing up, trying and growing.
So, if you’ve ever hesitated to start a sketchbook, let this be your sign: Begin.
Fill the pages with your ideas, your experiments, your mistakes, and your joy. Let it be a space where your creativity can run wild, unfurl and be unjudged.
You never know where it might take you.
Types of sketchbook
Here are some of the sketchbooks I like, but sketchbooks are a personal preference and come in so many different shapes, sizes and varieties, the sketchbook that is right for me, may not be right for you.
The best sketchbook to use is always the one you already own.
The Venezia Book from Fabriano
Stillman & Birn, Zeta Range
Talens Art Creation Sketchbooks
(Some of these links are affiliate links, if you buy something through them, I might earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only ever share the products that I actually use. )
