Four Reasons I Stopped Creating

An Artist’s Dark Night of the Soul

For most of my life, I identified myself as an artist. I loved making things, and found I was pretty good at it. I took college-level art courses in high school, and was sure that creating would always be a major part of me.

This made it a jarring experience when, around age 20, I suddenly stopped making art. I barely produced any personal pieces from my late college days through the time I turned 25. Even worse, anything I did manage to create was a struggle. There was no joy or inspiration. I didn’t feel that I deserved to call myself an artist anymore - why should I merit that title if I couldn’t bring myself to make anything? It all felt forced, and the more I grappled with all these doubts the more upset I became.

Looking back, I would say this was a Dark Night of the Soul for me as an artist. This is a traditionally Catholic notion that defines a period of time when a person feels a disconnect and despair, often doubting their beliefs and questioning their purpose and the meaning of their life. It usually signals a period of growth and maturing, which if endured can lead to a better understanding and a deeper connection with the very thing that caused the struggle in the first place.

It sounds way more dramatic and romantic when you spell it out. But in practice, it really sucks. Growth is never easy. That’s why I wanted to share the four distinct obstacles that I had to contend with to find my artistic spark again. Hopefully, it will show you that you are not alone if you are going through something similar!

#1 - I Didn’t Know What Art Was to Me

This sounds super abstract, but allow me to break it down.

When I was in middle and high school, I loved drawing realistically. I would use photos from magazines as references and copy them as closely as I could. I had dabbled in drawing fantasy concepts from imagination, but became dissatisfied with them at a time when art only seemed cool if you could make it look as realistic as possible.

This strategy was all well and good for a while. Then, in my last year of high school, I learned what a derivative was. And it really shook my confidence.

I discovered that I couldn’t just keep taking other people’s copyrighted photos and using them to make art. Of course, this is just fine for practice and fun, but it couldn’t be the basis of my own original art. I realized that I wasn’t adding anything creative or compelling if I was just taking someone else’s work and composition and recreating it - no matter how good I could make it look. 

Disillusioned and confused, I didn’t know what to draw anymore. I wanted to keep making realistic art, but didn’t understand enough to know about reference photos or creative commons licenses or using other people’s art as inspiration (without copying). I just felt like the only way I knew how to draw was being taken from me. I became guilty and nervous every time I went to make something, worried that I was in some way or another making derivative art.

I didn’t know what art was, and so I just kind of...stopped.

#2 - I Didn’t Have Time

To make matters worse, I was starting college, where I had decided not to pursue an art-related degree. And you know what comes with starting college?

A complete lack of time.

College always seemed like the world’s worst balancing act. You have to be an adult and a student simultaneously, all while having tens of thousands of dollars sucked from you. If that’s not a challenge, I don’t know what is (although I haven’t tried parenthood yet - I’ll eat my words later).

Anyway, what I told myself during this period of my life was mostly true - I wasn’t making art because I didn’t have time for art. But this setback also served the secondary function of being an excuse, allowing me to effectively distance myself from the larger, still unresolved issue: I still wasn’t facing the question of what art meant to me, or how to create in my own way. 

It also set me up poorly for my next period of life, because I told myself that when I graduated and got all that time back, I would surely start making art again.

#3 - I Wasn’t Comfortable in My Environment

Well, I was wrong.  

I moved from my home state to Boston after I graduated, and it took me a while to get settled - during which time I mercifully didn’t pressure myself to create. 

But eventually I was settled into a job, and had a more permanent living situation. Time to dive right in and make art!

But I didn’t.

I would watch hours of Netflix, but I wouldn’t paint or draw. I would feel guilty about not making art, but I still wouldn’t create. I didn’t have any ideas or motivation. I didn’t feel compelled to paint. When I did force myself to sit down and make something, it wasn’t fun.

I was frustrated with myself, because now I had time. I should be making art, and I should be happy to do so!

But now there were compounding issues. In addition to the previous problems, I was also now facing environmental stressors. 

I was living in a small Boston apartment with several other roommates. They were nice, but they were strangers, and having this housing situation took a very unexpected mental toll on me. I won’t go too much into it, but suffice it to say that I am both introverted and extremely shy, and never felt comfortable enough in shared living spaces to be in the right mindset to create. It was one of those situations where it felt like Maslow’s Hierarchy of Basic Needs was not being met. Rest assured I was never in any physical danger, but my mental health was not where it needed to be. I thrive on privacy and stability, and having those removed from the equation really took its creative toll. 

For a time, this stopped me from doing art.

#4 - I Wasn’t Creating What Interested Me 

Finally, I was able to get into a more comfortable living situation. I was doing better mentally. It was the perfect recipe for making art again!

And I did, a little. But it still wasn’t fun, and I still only did it as more of a chore. At long last, I was forced to circle back the core issue: what is art? What do I make, and more importantly, why am I making it? 

This is where D&D came into play and really helped me break out of my art rut. I realized that the subject matter I was focusing on - mostly objects or landscapes I had photographed myself - didn’t interest me. I wasn’t connecting with it, and simply did not care about what I was painting. I loved drawing fantasy characters and settings, and if that’s what inspired me to sit down a create then that was what I needed to focus on. What’s more, the realistic style I had always leaned on wasn’t doing it for me. I didn’t have the patience for careful, precise rendering anymore, and the thought of making a piece with that expectation was enough to deter me from even starting.

So, through trial and error, I learned how to adjust my art style and subjects so that art meant something to me again. I even discovered digital art, which helped solve some of the logistical issues that further prevented me from doing art. I learned how to use references, and became more comfortable in the process of making my art uniquely and truly mine. Slowly, surely, I learned how to create again in a way that brought me joy.

That said, the period of time when I wasn’t really creating lasted about five years. That was my Dark Night of the Soul as an artist. It was a long and difficult journey to discover what I needed to be able to create.

Some of those obstacles were under my control, and some of them were not. 

I guess the bottom line is to be patient with yourself. Time will always give you perspective, and it’s hard to see things clearly when you’re in the thick of them. Recognize that art is a journey, and even though it may seem contradictory part of that journey is not making any art at all. Don’t feel guilty or angry at yourself, but be open to what lies ahead - whether your dark night is a few days or a few years.