Four weeks without a paintbrush!

For the last month, my studio has been out of action—not because of lack of inspiration, but because of building work. Walls being knocked down, dust clouds settling into every corner, the sound of drills and hammers replacing the quiet focus I usually rely on. For four weeks, my brushes have sat untouched, my canvases stacked like patient companions waiting for their moment again.

At first, I thought a break would feel refreshing. Four weeks off painting sounded almost like a luxury: time to rest my wrists, reset my mind, maybe even gather new ideas. But very quickly, I learned that not painting doesn’t feel like rest. It feels like part of me is missing.

Painting isn’t just a job or a hobby—it’s a rhythm. It’s the way I process the world, the way I start and end my days. Without it, I’ve found myself restless, sometimes even irritable, like I’ve misplaced something important and can’t quite get comfortable.

Still, I’ve been learning a few things during this enforced pause:

• Ideas don’t stop arriving. Even without a brush in hand, my mind keeps sketching. I’ve been filling notebooks with concepts, colour combinations, and fragments of inspiration. It’s a reminder that creativity isn’t tied to a single tool—it’s always working in the background.

• Rest is part of the process. As frustrating as it feels, maybe these weeks are like letting paint dry: necessary downtime that will make the next layer stronger.

• Anticipation has power. Each day I get closer to stepping back into a clear studio feels like a build-up of energy. I know when I finally pick up a brush again, I’ll bring all of this stored-up momentum with me.

So yes, it’s been four long, noisy, paint-less weeks. But perhaps this time will make me more grateful for the quiet, focused hours that are coming soon. My studio is nearly ready, and when the dust settles—literally—I’ll return to the easel with renewed hunger.

Sometimes creativity isn’t about constant output. Sometimes it’s about trusting that the break, however unwanted, is part of the journey.