Sometimes, you just need to stop. You have to stop trying to figure it all out.
Today, that choice was my saving grace. I woke up with a very busy mind. My analytical brain was overthinking everything because it wanted to plan every single step. It even wanted to control the canvas before I started.
But then, I decided to take care of myself. I chose to let go of that heavy thinking. Instead of stressing, I focused on finding my creative flow.
Key Takeaways
- A phone-free morning at the beach, reading Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act, was what actually opened up the creative channel, not more planning.
- The painting itself came from just 4 colors chosen with zero planning, directly inspired by that beach walk.
- Knowing when to stop is the hardest part: overworking a fluid painting muddies the colors and kills the flow.
The moment I made that self-care choice, everything shifted. First, I decided to start my day with a radical act of love. I packed up a beach towel, grabbed a great book, and headed out the door.
Furthermore, I did one more thing. I left my phone at home.
The Joy of Disconnecting
Leaving my phone behind was incredibly liberating. Normally, our phones sit in our pockets like little anchors. They constantly buzz and beep to demand our attention.
Today, I wanted none of that noise. I wanted to cut out the busy distractions of the digital world, because I needed to truly connect with myself.
When I arrived at the beach, the atmosphere was lovely. I spread my towel out on the sand, sat down, and just breathed. Because my phone was gone, my eyes were fully open to the world around me. I was not looking at a screen. Instead, I was looking at the vast horizon.
Meanwhile, I decided to enjoy some simple people-watching. It is amazing what you notice when you are present. First, I watched a photo shoot happening nearby. It was beautiful to see people creating in real-time.
Then I saw a woman having the absolute best time. She had found a great spot on top of a large rock. The waves were crashing right over her, but she was just laughing. She was fully soaked and completely in the moment. Watching her joy made me smile, because it was a beautiful reminder of what it looks like to be fully alive.
Since I had no digital distractions, I actually started talking to the people around me. We shared real conversations, laughed, and connected. Consequently, I realized how much we miss when our heads are down. I promised myself right then that I would turn off my phone more often. We all need to connect with Mother Nature and with our own inner voice.
Discipline, Freedom, and Rick Rubin
While resting on my towel, I opened up my book. Lately, I have been reading Rick Rubin’s incredible book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being.
His words felt so aligned with my morning because he writes a lot about discipline and freedom. As he puts it, in a way that stuck with me: the artist’s job is to gather data from the world, process it, and give it back to us, and to do that, we have to be fully present.
My decision to leave my phone at home was a form of discipline. It was a structure I put in place to protect my mind. This allowed me to sit still and read. Additionally, it allowed me to absorb the natural world without interruption.
But that discipline created a massive wave of freedom. By quietening the outside noise, my inner creative channel opened up wide.
As I sat there, I studied the colors of the coast. The sand, the rocks, and the water were alive. I saw deep, rich earth tones, and I saw the way the sunlight hit the wet stones. Suddenly, I felt a powerful urge to paint. My morning walk and my offline rest had filled my creative cup to the brim.
Clearing the Studio Energy
When I returned to my studio, I was buzzing with inspiration. However, before I touched a paint bottle, I knew I had to prepare my sacred space.
First, I picked up a bundle of sage and lit it. The fragrant smoke began to dance through the air. I walked slowly into every corner of the room to let the smoke carry away any lingering stress or doubt. Consequently, the room became light, quiet, and completely clean.
Next, I did a little chanting. Sound is a powerful tool for alignment. The physical vibration of my voice in the quiet room brought me out of my head. It dropped me straight into my heart. Finally, my mind became completely still.
I was no longer just an artist in a room. Instead, I was a vessel ready to receive.
The Four-Color Fluid Magic
I walked over to my paint station. With zero planning, I picked out four colors. They were directly inspired by my beach walk:
- Sandy Earth Tones: Grounded, warm, and coastal.
- A Strong, Rich Green: Full of vibrant, organic life.
- Titan Pale Green: Soft, dreamy, and luminous.
- A Soft, Bold Pink: The wild card that brought it all together.
Because I wanted to create a fluid painting, I cleared off my large studio table. I laid the canvas completely flat, which is essential so the paint doesn’t run off the edges.
This process became highly tactile and sensory. I played with the weight and volume of the paint, and I poured it in thick, glossy ribbons.
Although I did introduce a very small amount of paint throwing, I kept it to a bare minimum.
Indeed, I realized something important during this process. Consistency is everything. If there are too many different things happening on one canvas, it becomes highly disruptive. It disrupts the harmony of the painting, and it disrupts the peace of my mind. I did not want chaos. Instead, I wanted flow. By limiting the throwing, I kept the energy focused and calm.
I introduced water to the canvas to play with the viscosity of the paint. I watched the strong green bleed and bloom into the titan pale green. It looked like moss spreading over wet stone.
Finally, I introduced the soft, bold pink. The contrast was electric, like a spark of fire on the cool, coastal greens. It brought the whole piece to life, because my heart and my mind were in perfect, joyful harmony.
The Art of Leaving It Alone
But here is where the real challenge of finding my creative flow begins. Knowing when a painting is actually finished is one of the hardest parts of being an artist.
In the past, I have made the mistake of overdoing it. It is so easy to get caught up in the excitement. You want to add just one more pour, or you want to throw just one more splash of color. However, when you overwork a fluid painting, things quickly get messy. The colors muddy together, and the beautiful, clean composition gets lost. Suddenly, the piece no longer has structure, and that gorgeous, effortless flow is gone.
For me, creating art is about finding a sense of calm and serenity. Therefore, I want my paintings to reflect that peace.
Because of this, I have to listen closely to my intuition. Today, my intuition whispered a clear message: Step away. Leave it alone.
The Power of Patience
So, I walked away. Right now, the canvas is incredibly wet. There is a lot of water on the surface, and the paint is still moving and settling like pools of liquid light on my table.
Therefore, I am so excited to see how this painting looks when it is dry. I have a feeling it might be fully dry by tomorrow morning. But if it is not, I will have to practice patience.
Patience is key in everything we create. We live in a world that wants instant results, and we want to see the final product right away. But art does not work on our schedule.
We have to give our creations time to develop. We have to let them grow, and we must let the colors simmer on the canvas to come to life in their own time.
I am going to trust this painting. I am going to let it dry completely before I decide to do anything else to it. If I need to add fine details later, I will. But for now, the most powerful thing I can do is simply wait and let the magic happen. See more finished pieces from this same intuitive process in the full gallery.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why did disconnecting from your phone help your creative process?
It removed the constant low-level noise competing for attention, letting me actually notice the world around me instead of a screen. That presence is what opened up the creative channel, not more planning or thinking harder.
How do you choose colors for a fluid painting?
Often with zero advance planning, directly from whatever I was just immersed in. This piece’s four colors, sandy earth tones, a rich green, a pale green, and a soft pink, came straight from a beach walk earlier that same day.
How do you know when a fluid painting is finished?
I listen to intuition over excitement. It’s tempting to add just one more pour, but overworking a fluid piece muddies the colors and loses the clean composition. Often the right move is simply to step away and let it dry.
Can I see or commission a piece like this one?
Reach out to ask about this piece’s availability, or to talk through a custom commission using this same fluid, intuitive process.
What about you? Do you struggle with knowing when to stop? Reach out and let me know, I’d love to hear how you practice patience in your own creative life.
