As I’m slowly painting more blue landscape sketches there are a lot of things going through my head.
Mainly that right now it seems very hard to wait for the paint to dry.
I mean, it’s always been a bit of a challenge for me.
It’s not the act of mixing and applying the paint itself, which I enjoy, but rather having to wait for it to dry between several layers. I have my worst procrastination attacks during these minutes when I wait for paint to dry. But right now, none of the alternative options are really working well. Killing time stopped being fun or even mildly entertaining.
So when I’ve put down so much water on the page for an extra light wash that it will take ages to dry despite dry radiator air (interestingly enough the paint drying time can be just as glacially and agonizingly slow in summer as it is in winter), it seems right now I can choose between: watching a grey foggy nothingness called „late winter“ devour the outside; opening the news and seeing how fascists and oligarchs take over the world; or noticing my body and trying not to think about how long this recovery is taking; or staring at my paper and trying not to feel that all of this is completely pointless.
It seems so important to find areas where something still feels constructive. Finding something that at least feels like it’s moving forward.
It looks like I need something more than seeing how I slowly continue to work on a sketch, or a course script, or dinner. This used to work reasonably well, but right now it’s increasingly hard for me to still have a feeling of self-efficacy or personal agency, of feeling like I can actually change things for the better.
Maybe some of you are having similar feelings.
And of course this is not about the act of paint drying itself.
It’s about asking yourself if going through the entire ordeal of being creative is still worth it when everything around us is increasingly challenging. I’d say it is, even if I don’t have proof for it and I don’t even believe it myself sometimes. But I sort of hope it is worth it?
Whatever is left that I can get out of these moments when I enjoy art and writing and making dinner, I try to squeeze it out of myself. And then what? I don’t really know. I just try to continue, step after step, hoping that I can muster enough energy to show up again for another day. Because you know, at least when I come back on the next day, the paint is actually dry and I can add another layer.
I don’t have a neat solution here for any of us, or a cheerful conclusion. We live in the stupidest timeline ever, and the only way I can cope with it right now is to put an ungodly amount of milk foam on my hot cocoa. And counting sparrows outside my window.
To end this on a positive note, I know it actually helps to step away from a sketch for a while, as well as from other things, and then look at it with fresh eyes. Just like taking a break from news or from your own thoughts does at least give you a breather, even if it doesn’t change the state of the world. But it’s important to avoid drowning in it.
I try to remember that, especially in those moments when the paint is drying.
Hi Julia, I’m sorry to hear your recovery is taking time and it is hard on the body; it’s been a long winter: no wonder you’re feeling spent and need time to recover. You’re not alone – you have articulated very clearly what I have been feeling for several weeks and it’s not just the grey weather and the fatigue. The ground feels as if it is shifting under my feet and there’s a sense of foreboding in the air. All we can do is try to live in a worthwhile manner, be kind to each other and look out for small moments of delight; here it’s snowdrops, early primroses and cyclamen in the garden and passing flocks of goldfinches. You have a creative gift and your paintings and teaching celebrate the beauty of the natural world. They give me, and many others, so much pleasure. I hope this helps. Gill x
That’s a lovely positive reply to Julia. I want to write something too but also feeling at a loss with the future and can’t get motivated. Thankyou from me
Dear Julia, just a few words and such a strong message. What you do is art on so many levels. Love to you, Jasmin
Take comfort and strength from the beauty of Nature, and know that your work reflects that light back to others, and comforts them, too. Remember: “The darkest hour is just before dawn”.
I resonate fully with all of this. Recovery, long winter, oligarchs… history repeating itself. I’ve been learning how much presence itself is therapeutic, being with it all and also being in community right now. I remember following you during the pandemic, and I loved your insightful and human behind the art content. So my little nugget to myself and to you is staying in community, being present with each other, and moments of peace while paint is drying is beautiful and fleeting. I’m practicing savoring it while there are non-peaceful things happening.
Perfectly stated!
Dear Julia,
Thank you for so elegantly expressing the zeitgeist that many of us are feeling. I echo comments by others who remind you that the art and beauty you share shines light on the world and changes it. “We are the ones we have been waiting for.”
Dear Julia,
Thank you for your thoughtful post…making many of us slow down and consider the world. I am really enjoying the blue paintings…what a great idea, maybe a workshop? Do other colors work? Again thank you for posting.
Rhonda
Thank you for this thoughtful post
Dear Julia,
I am so sorry that, what does one say, alles geht bergab.
I send you some Tina Turner to tap your foot to, while the paint dries.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQTYqoKQKrM&list=RDGMEMQ1dJ7wXfLlqCjwV0xfSNbA&start_radio=1&rv=zDc2FEZgjQA&ab_channel=Jos%C3%A9FranciscoVasquesdeSouza
Kate
Neat solutions and cheerful conclusions just don’t exist in the current worldwide political atmosphere. But I’m with you on believing that exercising our creativity is still worth it. On top of the worry about the bigger world situation, I, too, have other heavy-duty worries going on. I hardly have time for the creative things I WANT to do. I got new markers for Christmas and haven’t had time to try them out. I want to experiment more with my watercolours. Cut sewing projects sit, unsewn, on my table. However, I carry my sock-on-knitting-needles with me so I can at least do a few stitches here and there, maybe a row or two before I crash off to sleep. I NEED to create or I will be wound up too tightly with worry. The other night, I paid attention as I created an unusual salad with ingredients I had on hand. I think these moments matter for our own selves. And if they get shared, hopefully they matter to others who read or see our act of creation. Your blog post with its photos was an act of creation – I got to appreciate it on a very stressful day. I hope that even by typing this comment, which is feeling creative to me, will give someone else a bit of relief today.
i found your blog during covid and it always is a highlight to read
your art work is a gift and you share it-so amazing
thanks for sharing – you are not alone in your thoughts and concerns
we can only be our best selves
carry on
The only thing I have found that works for me is to have two painting projects going at the same time so that when one is drying I can enjoy working on the other project. Doesn’t always work but sometimes.
Dear Julia,
I have been following your blog for quite some time and I really enjoy how you share your contemplations. So when I opened this one I felt really sorry for the challenges you are going through. Just a very simple suggestion – what about a good book? There are so may good books out there. I mean real printed books, not audio or Kindle. Such delight to have the feel of a book in your hands, turning pages, following the story. Some of my all-time favourites are A. S. Byatt’s Possession or Peter Hoeg’s Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow. Or there are many classic ones, too. I’d really love to have some time for reading, but have so many things to do – except waiting for the paint to dry ;)
In my small effort to get away from the ubiquitous ‘AI,’ this is the year of reading classic books by women. The last completed was “The Song of the Lark” by Willa Cather, and it was absolutely wonderful. Her descriptions of the Colorado countryside, the characters in small Moonstone, the minutiae of every day just comes alive. Her words have a texture, like the difference an oil painting over a photograph. Just started her masterpiece “O Pioneers!”, which she considered her best work.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings today. I think there is value in being able to talk to each other and know that we are not alone in our angst. You, of course are dealing with your recovery on top of everything else but all of us must be watching our world with some sense of trepidation and despair.
At the age of 72, I decided to learn to paint specifically to give me something to focus on that would busy my hands and soothe my mind. I do what little I can in a democratic nation to try and right the ship but I know it will never be enough. Still, I remember the story of Picasso’s painting ‘Guernica’ depicting the carnage of the German bombings. It quickly became a symbol for the French Resistance. When an SS officer barged into Picasso’s studio, pointed at the mural and demanded, “Did you do that?” Picasso immediately replied, “No, you did!” He didn’t end the war but he wasn’t completely powerless in it, either.
Your words resonated with me also Julia and it has helped me reading the other comments on your to realise that we’re not alone in this. I don’t have any wise words except perhaps to limit your consumption of the media and realise that this cycle has gone before and will continue. Thank you for keeping going despite feeling troubled, from Leicestershire, UK.
Just chipping in again to say thank you to Julia for raising this and giving us a space to share out thoughts. Thank you everyone for your contributions- They’ve made me feel less despairing and fearful. I’m going to do some painting! from Gill in Berkshire UK.
“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” – Augustine.
Praying you will find your hope here.
Tracey
Thank you so much for this, Julia. Here in the U.S., we are also waiting for paint to dry, some of us immigrants afraid to leave our houses, others (like me) their friends and housemates. Some of us are queer and brave, some of us old, tired, but still resisting.
Here’s a piece I wrote a few weeks ago about finding hope in the negative spaces of this time (I mention you in it.): https://www.juancole.com/2025/01/finding-negative-spaces.html
How I agree with you Julia, I hope your recovery happens more quickly & that you feel more positive soon. Reading the news today I felt hopeless & frightened but I can do nothing about the utter madness that is happening so can only get on with my own small things like painting & hope some good will eventually prevail. very best wishes to you.
Thank you for writing what you are feeling in this stupid timeline. ( great description) you are not alone in this. In Canada we feel we are renting an apartment above a meth lab. Thank Charlie Angus for that description. The news cycle will drive us all crazy. Find peace where you can. Canada Strong & Free ❤️
“Renting an apartment above a meth lab.” Best line I’ve read describing Canada’s current relationship with the US.
I live in the US, or at least I did until Jan 20th. I don’t recognize my country anymore. I’m the one living in the meth lab and there’s no one to report the meth lab conditions to anyone since it’s the government running the meth lab!
I resort to a hairdryer I have just for paint drying (I never use it on my hair!).
But obviously this about so much more than waiting for paint to dry…
I wake every morning with my stomach churning and some new grim news arrives, even if I don’t go looking for it.
Today I heard from a fellow US gov employee (with 10 years in service) that is losing her job because she is currently in Probationary status due to having been hired into another position using a direct hire disability status…
Art is what keeps us going, fills our well so we can support others, be it drawing, painting, writing.
Thank you for being here and sharing with us!
Julia, thank you for this post. I agree with your feelings entirely (and admire your blue paintings immensely). I think of artists like Kurt Schwitters and Paul Klee; they kept working as much as they could, and their art endures. We must resist however we can, help each other, and express ourselves. It’s how we let the world know what we feel. Paint and breathe.
Good Day, Julia. Very sorry to read that your recovery is taking so long and dampening your spirits so. My arthritis has been troublesome for years, so I know some of what you’re going through. I’m envious of your painting skills and grateful that you share with all who visit here. When I reach a point in the day that feels like waiting for paint to dry, I read, do a bit of knitting or crocheting. These calm my mind and help me to think about what’s next. Please don’t get so discouraged that you stop doing your wonderful art. Prayers coming your way for a quick recovery and the return of your happier spirit. All my best, Julia.
Hi Julia. I find joy – more than just a diversion – in listening to favorite music pieces, then researching the song, writer, performers, subject experts and industry participants, and learning about those who contribute to production and availability of performances and recordings.
Discovering the broader context is just fun. I found out that Irving Berlin (1888-1989) lived so long that he ceased receiving royalties for his early songs, as they passed into Public Domain 75 years after composition.
Beats reading about oligarchs, capitalists, and snake oil vendors.
Thank you, Julia. We’ll get through this, one blue sketch at a time. It’s important for us humans to stay together during this zombie apocalypse.
As someone already said “you are not alone in your thoughts and concerns
we can only be our best selves”.
Dear Julia,
it is a bleak February in every respect. Here in Regensburg we hardly see the sun and winter seems to drag on and on. And the state of the world has me not reading the news any more for my own mental health.
I‘ve always found it helpful to consider how people in the past have felt especially during the great wars that lasted for years. We are certainly not alone. For me personally my faith has also been indispensible.
May hope be renewed whenever you need it!
Julia, thank you for opening up your struggle for meaning to this community. I hope these many loving responses have heartened you. I too survive on books. During covid I read Ursula LeGuin fr the first -everything I could get my hands on— and her deep humanity and imaginings restored my faith in the world, or more to the point, the brilliant light one single artist can offer to the darkness. Hang in there. Keep painting. Call up and comfort someone whose life is also hard and would love to hear your voice.
Post surgery recovery time is so difficult. Intellectually you know it just takes time and bit by bit you may start to recognize improvements. But you are short on energy and patience and trying to figure out how best to fill the down time. Add on top of that what is going on in the world and it’s a real recipe for depression. But honestly, having had major surgeries myself, I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
When the results of the U.S. elections were announced, I made the decision that I was not going to let this new administration ruin my daily life with its chaos announcements and trust in those trained to battle back. Granted, I am among the “privileged” that are not in the direct aim, at least not yet, so perhaps easier for me. But that determination is getting me through, that and getting into the studio where magically the world falls away as I focus on whatever project is at hand. It is a great relief. And then, recently, I ran across Picasso’s “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life” and I knew that’s exactly what working in my studio had done for me. I hope you can find that same refreshing as you do your creative work, no matter how little or how much, and believe that it is important, not just for your own well-being, but for so many others.
Julia, you are so right in that looking at things with fresh eyes is truly a must. Whether it’s our artwork, or life experiences, we need to take a break and step back. Sometimes, I’m so involved in looking at the individual trees, I forget about the forest. I think you know what I mean.
It is a very worrying time in the world and so hard to be hopeful when one is also dealing with big personal challenges. It has been a traumatic time for me over the past 18 months and art and nature Journalling has brought me solace and joy. And your blogs and videos have been a big part of that. I hope that you can also find solace and joy yourself and that spring will lift your spirits when it comes. I think that when art is your livelihood, it might take away some of the joy and I really hope that doesn’t happen because your art should bring you joy as it does to so many others. I hope that you can take the time that you need and that you find the joy and peace you deserve xx
An additional (very apt) comment from the most recent “Linnaean News” (the electronic newsletter of the Linnaean Society of London) (Natural History):
”Within the current turmoil the world finds itself in, we hope that the turning season can bring some succour, and a sense of continuity wherever you are. Perhaps a return to a belief in the cyclical nature of life, and new buds and leaves.”
Julia- please know that what you do matters; I have ME-CFS and am not always able to create art.
Your work, its beauty and connection to nature means so much to me during these times.
Art and music are so essential to humanity, especially now.
Gabrielle (in Arizona)
Dear Julia, thankyou for helping me the other day with my inability to access the course on creativity. I’m afraid I get confused easily but will try again. I understand your feelings right now and it looks like many others are feeling a bit lost in this messed up world we humans have created. I put my love and trust in mother nature and then I feel better. I do hope you will continue to recover from your operation and feel more and more positive again. Your artwork is beautiful and very inspiring. For me sketching is much closer to the easence and reality of nature. It is immediate and simple and quickly catches a little spark of what nature holds. Although I am totally unproductive creatively and have been for a while I feel that sketching in nature is the path out. Bless you
Julia, many people (more articulate than I) have commented with what I’m thinking. But I want to add my voice to the chorus of “We love you!” Thank you so much for all you’re doing to teach and inspire us!
Julia, Thank you for sharing your paintings and your thoughts with us. I always look forward to reading a post from you. Your words and your work always calm my spirit. Please keep doing what you’re doing. I need you (and others like you) in my world. Please hang in there.
Dear Julia,
Hoping you are having a good day! I’m sorry that I did not read this post until after reading your “thank you” post. Sometimes, when I don’t have time at the time, I tuck your posts into my notes for later reading. I don’t normally leave a comment, but this time I will.
Not wanting to intrude my beliefs on you, but in the nature of sharing, the Bible has many promises that show the present state of affairs will pass and is actually part of the process to bring lasting good to all the world. Just as a sample: “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to ALL people.” Like 2:10. “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” Rev. 21:4
And I believe the beauty you create is very important. Not only does it do you good, but for those who have it within them and don’t know how to express it on paper (or otherwise), you are an outlet, a kindred spirit, so to speak. Your artwork lifts us up and gives us something wonderful to relieve our minds of the things that are disturbing around us.
Thank you again for helping us to join you in the expression of what we love on paper.❤️
Hello Julia and friends, many people have touched my heart while reading through this morning. I too can relate. I am on bed rest, recovering after a surgery for a break only 1%of the population ever experience. I am trying to stay positive, but the pain is wearing. I am a professional artist and I can barley sketch as it seems the. well has run dry…Yet I cling to the hope there are better days. God is carrying me through. Sometimes it seems dark, but it’s just a pause in the story, a time to reflect and readjust. When this is over there may be growth, new direction. It has been helpful to start an Emotional Journal – where I sketch out crude, abstracted shapes /words to help move through some of the stuff that comes with trauma. This is the 3rd operation in 3 years, the 2nd severe break, and this one thing, praying and soothing music all seem to help. Wishing you a brighter day.
Dear Julia, I am taking your drawing class at Skillshare. It is fun and teaching me a lot. Thank you for all that you share. There is a song/ poem by the beautiful, incomparable artist Leonard Cohen entitled The Future. I feel like he was a bit of a prophet in that song. Its refrain goes like this: “Things are going to slide in all directions/ Won’t be nothing/ Nothing you can measure any more/ The blizzard of the world/ has crossed the threshold/ and it has overturned the order of the soul/ When they said REPENT/ I wonder what they meant.” We seem to be in the middle of the ever growing blizzard, and yet we have to continue on our path, we have to continue to search for the order of the soul, and making art is the order of the soul. Be well, be safe, and thank you! Looking forward to continuing to learn to draw with you! Sending my best!
Hi Julia, I’m so glad I took the time to read your email, and then your full post this morning. It resonates very much for me, and somehow it feels a bit better to not be so alone in such feelings. “Stupidest timeline ever” feels amazingly accurate right now. And maybe I haven’t fully acknowledged my own feelings of pointlessness that continually rear up in the empty spaces, like the waiting times, watching paint dry. As often I found, though I haven’t visited in a while, your post is thoughtful, insightful and a pleasure to read, even where the feelings are difficult. Good to be back. I’m recovering as well, so low energy keeps me from ever getting through email or being regular with favourite blogs, or even the news. But I’ve learned to mostly accept such things. Glad to re-connect a bit here now, and hopeful I’ll be recovered enough to take one of your courses some day soon.