Waiting for the spark …

For years, I actively avoided art classes, convinced that I’d never measure up to the real artists in my life. Ironically, my college experience has been filled with artists. I study art history, and, while I deeply appreciate art, I’d never call myself an artist. I see myself more of a casual scrapbooker, a margin-doodler, an occasional painter whose process resembles something out of a kindergarten classroom. And yet, I find myself spending over thirteen hours a week in a studio, trying to articulate the whats and whys of paintings and drawings.

There’s nothing more maddening than wanting to create but feeling like you can’t. I sit down with every intention of painting, writing, or drawing, but the inspiration just won’t come. It’s as if any creative spark has vanished, leaving behind only an empty void and an even emptier canvas.

This semester especially, I’ve tried everything to reignite that spark. I’ve reread old love letters I never sent and heartbreak-filled notes on my phone. I’ve listened to every genre of music imaginable. I’ve spent hours on Pinterest, searching for art that moves me. I’ve even called my mom just to hear her reminisce about how talented I was as a child. And yet, the more I try to force inspiration, the more elusive it becomes. I look at other artists, writers, and creators who seem to produce incredible work so much more effortlessly. Logically, I know I don’t see their struggles, their discarded drafts, their moments of confusion. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m the only one stuck in creative limbo.

I suppose creative slumps are part of the process, as infuriating as they may be. Perhaps the real challenge—and the solution—is simply to keep going, making marks until something finally clicks. Most of the time, inspiration strikes when you least expect it, and then, hopefully, you remember exactly why you started creating in the first place.