WHEN A PAINTING SULKS (and what I am doing about it)

sketchbook image of watercolour, posca pen, flowers and whimsy LilliBean Designs

There’s a painting currently sitting on my easel sulking at me.

Or perhaps I’m sulking at her.

Either way, she’s not talking to me.

And that’s frustrating, because for a while there, everything was flowing beautifully. The colours were working, the layers were building, but then somewhere along the way, it became clunky and hard.

Honestly, I think I am just too far in my own head at the moment to work on her.

So now she just sits there quietly, taunting me every time I walk into the studio. (And if you’re wondering if paintings sulk and taunt, then I can confidently tell you yes, yes, they do)

Usually, when this happens, I fall into one of several responses. The artist’s version of fight, flight, or freeze.

Sometimes I fight, sitting in front of the canvas trying to force the painting to work, repainting the same section over and over, convinced that if I just push through, it will all be ok.

Sometimes I flee. Suddenly, the studio becomes the last place on earth I want to be. I’ll find literally anything else to do. Emails. Social posts. Even cleaning. (And anyone who knows me knows if I am voluntarily cleaning, I am fleeing!)

And sometimes, I freeze, ignoring the painting entirely while quietly carrying around the guilt of it in the background.

But this time, I decided to try something different.

Play.

sketchbook image of a black and white image decorated with gold pen, black ink. posca pen, flowers and whimsy LilliBean Designs art by Kirstin McCulloch

Play isn’t a foreign concept in my art practice. In fact, it used to be such a huge part of it.

Back when the kids were little, and I was carving tiny scraps of creative time during nap time, play was often all I had time for. Small moments with collage scraps, watercolours, experimenting with paint washes and trying to recreate techniques I’d seen other artists use.

Sometimes those experiments eventually wove their way into my paintings and became part of my visual language, and sometimes they were simply that: play for the sake of play.

No pressure. No outcome. And definitely no expectations.

And honestly? Somewhere along the way, I think I forgot how important that was.

And honestly? Somewhere along the way, I think I forgot how important that was.

So this week, instead of fighting the painting or avoiding the studio altogether, I played.

The tool for this particular adventure was a tiny little sketchbook from Kmart.

The paper quality is questionable at best. The spine is already separating from the cover. It’s about 15 x 15cm and completely imperfect, which makes it perfect for playing!

Most importantly, there are no rules in this book.

I can ruin pages. Paint over things. Glue in random things. I can make absolutely terrible art in it, and nobody ever has to see. (Although knowing me, I’ll probably share it all anyway)

That freedom feels exciting.

One page is covered in a messy collage of hexagons cut from old artworks, packaging scraps, receipts, random studio bits and pieces. Another has puddles of black ink bleeding across the paper beside brightly coloured marker sketches.

This week’s little session was inspired by a Facebook artist whose name I unfortunately never caught. One of those fleeting ads that appears once and then vanishes into the void the moment you actually want to find it again.

What I remember most were black-and-white images of women, with the faces decorated in expressive marks and lots of gold.

So I started there. Black and white images. Gold ink. Watercolour. Gel pens.

Then came the acrylic markers, POSCA pens, messy black ink puddles, random line work, and collage pieces.

For three whole hours, I disappeared into this little sketchbook.

And not once did I think about the painting on the easel. Or even about the jobs waiting downstairs, the appointments, the life admin, the endless mental tabs constantly open in my brain.

sketchbook image of a different eyes decorated with gold pen, black ink. posca pen, flowers and whimsy LilliBean Designs art by Kirstin McCulloch

For three hours, the only things that mattered were colour choices, line choices, texture, and feeling.

And I realised how long it had been since I’d felt that. That feeling of completely falling into creativity. That soft exhale.

Because art has always done that for me. It regulates me. It grounds me. It quiets the anxiety.

And yet somehow, when life gets heavy or busy or overwhelming, I forget that. I forget the very thing that helps me return to myself.

Until moments like this remind me.

Inviting in play might actually be one of the healthiest things I can do for my creative practice and for me.

Because I needed the reminder: not every creative session has to produce a masterpiece. Not every page has to become a product. And not every painting has to be amazing.

Sometimes creativity is simply about being present long enough to hear yourself think again.

So if you’re creative, or even just curious about creativity, this is your reminder to play

Buy the cheap sketchbook. Use the good pens (or the scabby ones at the bottom of your junk drawer). And make weird little collages inspired by half-remembered images from Facebook.

Just play.

You might be surprised by what returns to you when you do.

And while my painting is still not speaking to me, I remind myself that much like the three teenage girls in my house, eventually she’ll come around too.

If you want to be one of the first to see the infamous sulking painting my Community Members will be seeing her first.

JOIN THE COMMUNITY HERE

If you like to watch behind-the-scenes videos of art in progress, pop over to my YouTube channel to watch the video from my play session.

watch the video here

From my whimsy world to yours.