Dealing with Artist's Block: My Go-To Strategies for Getting Unstuck

I don’t know if this happens to you too, but there are seasons in my studio where I sit down to make something and nothing comes out. Not even a bad start. Just stillness. Sometimes it’s the kind of stillness that feels restful, but other times it feels frustrating. Like I’ve walked into my space expecting a conversation and all I get is silence.

Creative block is strange like that. It shows up uninvited, doesn’t say much, and sticks around way longer than you’d like. And because I’ve been doing this for more than twenty years (making art, teaching art, talking about art) I’ve seen it play out in all kinds of ways. For some of my students, it’s perfectionism that creeps in and takes over. For others, it’s plain exhaustion. For me, it depends. Sometimes it’s because the studio feels cluttered. Sometimes it’s because life feels cluttered. And sometimes, I don’t even know what the reason is.

So I wanted to walk through a few things that have helped me over the years when I hit one of those walls. Nothing groundbreaking. Just honest stuff that works for me…most of the time. Hopefully something in here might help you too.

One of the first things I do when I feel blocked is lower the bar. A lot.

Not just a little. I give myself full permission to make something boring (or awkward!) or downright bad. If I’m painting, I’ll grab an old canvas or scrap paper and just start moving paint around without thinking. If I’m working digitally, I’ll open a file I know I’ll probably delete. There’s no pressure for anything to be good. The goal is to reconnect my hands and my head. To get back to movement.

And honestly… sometimes that’s what kicks it all back into gear. It’s like creative muscle memory… you just need to wake it up a little.

Another thing that’s helped is stepping away from my main medium. If I’m feeling stuck in my usual work, I do something completely unrelated. Collage. Photography. Cyanotypes. Sometimes I even bake or rearrange things in the studio just to feel like I’m making something… anything. It’s not about creating a masterpiece. It’s about moving again. Shaking something loose.

When that doesn’t help… sometimes I just clean.

Not because I think it’ll magically fix everything, but because the act of sorting through things… flipping through old sketchbooks… tossing out dead markers… it reminds me that I have a rhythm. I’ve made things before. I’ll make things again. And even if I don’t clean the whole studio (even if I just clear off one corner of the table) that shift in space can feel like a reset.

One of my go-to strategies is setting a timer. This one works surprisingly well when I’m dragging my feet. I’ll tell myself I only need to show up for 15 or 20 minutes. That’s it. I’ll set a timer and just do something. Doodle. Mix paint. Sort files. It’s not about outcome. It’s about showing up. And weirdly… I usually keep going once I’ve started. But even if I don’t, I still did the thing. I still moved. That counts.

And when I really hit a wall… I go for a walk.

I know, everyone says this, but it really does help. I’m not walking for inspiration or clarity or some big creative breakthrough. I’m just… walking. Letting my brain wander. Thinking about what I want for dinner or what weird shade the sky is. And in that space, without trying too hard, something usually stirs. I don’t try to catch it. I just let it happen.

One of the biggest shifts for me has been checking in with how I’m talking to myself.

If my inner dialogue is full of “why can’t you just make something” or “you’re wasting time again”… I pause. I try to listen to what’s actually underneath that. Because most of the time, I’m just tired. Or overwhelmed. Or comparing myself to someone else’s highlight reel. That noise… the stuff that fills your head and makes you feel stuck… it’s usually not about your work. It’s about pressure. So I work on quieting that voice. Letting myself off the hook a little.

Sometimes I pull out old work. Not to critique it. Not to finish it. Just to remember that I’ve been here before. That I’ve made work I care about. That I’m capable of moving through a block. Looking at old sketchbooks or older paintings reminds me that this isn’t forever. I always find my way back. You will too.

Another thing that helps is setting tiny creative prompts. Not big ideas… just small things. A single word. A limited palette. Using only one material. Making something with my non-dominant hand. These little challenges give me something to react to. They take away the pressure to have an idea. You don’t have to know where you’re going. You just have to start.

I also turn art into a game sometimes.

Five drawings in five minutes (just like when we’re in a figure drawing class…those 1 minute, 3 minute, 5 minute drawing timers can be amazing for the process). What would happen if, say, you only make work using blue. What would happen if you fill a page with textures. One of my favorite projects for my drawing class is to grab some charcoal or crayons and just go outside and create some rubbings. It sounds silly… but it’s freeing. It gets me out of my head. And once I start moving, I usually find something in the process that sparks a new direction.

The last thing I’ll say is maybe the most important… I talk to other artists.

When I’m feeling blocked, it’s easy to isolate. But talking to someone who gets it… someone who’s also in it or has been there recently… it lifts the weight. Just naming it out loud can help. A simple “I haven’t made anything in weeks” often leads to someone else saying “same”… and that’s enough to shake the guilt off a little.

It’s easy to forget that your creative rhythm doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. Some seasons are busy and buzzing. Some are slow and quiet. That’s normal. That’s real. And if you’re in a stuck season right now, it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means something needs to shift. You don’t owe anyone constant productivity. Not your audience. Not the algorithm. Not even yourself. Your creative life is allowed to have pauses. It’s allowed to be messy. What matters is that you find ways to gently return to it. No pressure. Just curiosity.

So those are a few of the things I lean on when I’m stuck. Nothing magic. Just tools I’ve gathered over time. I hope something in here feels useful for where you’re at. And I’d love to hear what’s helped you too… what gets you moving again when you’re feeling stuck… what doesn’t work at all… what surprised you. Let’s open that up together. This part of the creative process deserves as much conversation as the finished work does.

And if you’re someone who wants a few more hands-on ways to nudge your creativity back into motion… here are some ideas you can actually try. No prep. No pressure. Just some gentle starting points…

Grab a timer… and set it for 10 minutes. Make something in that time. Anything. Don’t overthink it. Use whatever is in reach. Junk mail. That old brush. Crayons. Post-it notes. Let it be weird. Let it be fast. Let it be a total mess. That’s the point.

Go analog. Even if you usually work digital. Cut up an old magazine. Make a collage with tape and scissors. Paint with your fingers. Trace shadows. Sometimes shifting the tools you use is enough to wake up a different part of your brain.

Take three photos of something around you right now that feels like nothing. Try to make it feel like something. A scrap on the floor. A reflection. A crooked chair. Frame it like it matters. That kind of seeing is a creative act.

If your studio space feels heavy, change one small thing. Rearrange a corner. Pin up new work. Take everything off your desk and start fresh. Even swapping out your water cup or brush jar can make it feel like a new space.

Give yourself a tiny rule. Use only one color for a day. Don’t lift your pen for a whole drawing. Only use shapes. Or lines. Or words. Play. Let it feel silly. Let it feel pointless. That’s usually when the good stuff starts to sneak back in.

Or… don’t make anything. Just spend 30 minutes going through your old sketchbooks. Pull out something half-finished and ask yourself if it still wants to be something… or if you’re ready to let it go. Both are valid.

The goal here isn’t to make amazing work. The goal is to reconnect with the part of you that wants to explore. The part of you that’s curious. That’s willing to try again. You don’t have to wait for motivation to show up before you begin. Sometimes the act of beginning… even in the smallest way… is what brings the motivation back.

So go on. Pick something. Try it. Let it be light. Let it be imperfect. Let it just be for you. Then come back and let me know how it felt.