Ever feel like you're stuck?
Breaking through creative blocks by cheating the world around us.
I am stuck.
I’ve been here before.
I’ll be here again.
The process always looks the same.
Understand, I’m lost
Figure out where I want to be
Make a plan to get there
Realise I don’t know how to execute
Get stuck ← I am here now
Break ← I am doing this next
Get unstuck
Fly
This week is about me figuring out why I’m stuck and how I plan on getting out of it.
By next week.
Enjoy!
Change
The mind and body only change identity under two conditions: incentives and pain.
In art, there are unfortunately no real incentives; all things we create are unasked for (unless they are commercial ventures to make money or fit into a show - but then, are they art?)
So the only thing that really drives is the pain of not doing it.
Boredom is a great tool.
It forces a certain level of focus.
For me, the route to get there involves cracking the system I’ve built around myself.
Break
This week is a social experiment.
A rest.
A reset.
A break…
I’ve been pushing hard for over a year. The work is good.
I know that.
But I’ve stepped away from anything commercial for six months now.
And I’ve been focused on one project that I feel confident in.
Will it be successful?
No idea.
That’s not the point.
I’m trying to say something.
And that’s the part I care about.
But how do I make sure it gets the attention it deserves from me
Make sure it gets the care it requires to reach its potential.
So it leaves that horrible space of ideas and sketches and becomes reality.
Suffering
To get me through this little creative block, I’m cutting back on anything I usually count as enjoyment.
For me, enjoyment, addiction, and identity are bundled together.
We’re sold enjoyment.
We’re sold dopamine.
Social media, sugar, caffeine, nicotine; they run my life, or they have.
Every time I get close to real progress, I sedate myself with those things.
Food, drink, Instagram.
Easy comforts.
So I’ve cut them all.
I’m on a water fast.
I’ve pulled all the good stuff.
No eating, no scrolling, no dosing myself with dopamine.
And the discomfort is painful.
My brain’s foggy.
My body’s sluggish.
It’s screaming for food, for sugar, for sun.
But I know what this is: it’s my system resisting change.
And I want to push through that.
To burn out the neural pathways that keep me distracted,
So I can build new ones that serve the work.
Because distraction is how the system keeps me obedient.
Discomfort
Most of my day is spent avoiding the things I don’t know how to do.
Avoiding committing material to an idea.
Avoiding committing to the next step.
That’s a confidence issue.
I know it.
And for some reason, I haven’t been able to crack it.
So I’ve turned this week into a kind of purge.
It's not simple masochism or flagellation.
I want to know what happens when I stop giving myself the easy out?
Abstinence has a neat way of telling you what you were really doing.
Did you need it, or was it just comfort?
Over time, I’ve learned that the world wants you comfortable doing its bidding.
And I want to do mine.
Jump
I knew I wanted to do art right after I left a very long, supportive relationship.
They didn’t believe in the direction.
The exact words were:
"you're not an artist"
You only get a few real chances in life to point yourself somewhere new.
So I jumped.
Not long after, I came back from California, where I’d been studying, and ran headfirst into COVID.
I was grounded. Planted.
It was the start of a golden run for me.
I’ve been there multiple times since.
I know what it takes to get to it.
And I want to get back.
Muses
Over the last few years, I’ve been researching love.
It started with a confession booth.
Then the interviews.
Then my own personal journey with the emotion itself derailed it.
I went girl sober.
I’m a year and nine months in.
And since cutting out romance, my relationships (especially with women) have gotten significantly better.
Somewhere along the way, the project expanded.
I moved countries.
I stopped showing paintings.
I raised my standard, but lost sight of what I wanted to do.
I was interviewing people with views that went so far beyond my world
It became hard to put myself back together.
But there were a few people who kept me going along the way.
Kept me inspired.
So I’ve been reaching back into philosophy, religion, and identity.
And I began to notice that in ancient Greece, scholars dedicated their work to the muses.
Feminine forces they revered.
They made work for them.
That idea stuck.
Reverence as a creative act.
It's a common idea, the removal of the ego, to better create value.
The first time I saw it was in the military.
The motto of the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst is: Serve to Lead.
It’s a beautiful idea.
And as I grow older, I see that the people who bow deepest to something bigger
Are the ones who receive real power.
So this project, the muses, the paintings, the sacrifice, is me putting my money where my mouth is.
Trying to make work in service of something that matters.
What defines good work for me now is simple:
– Does it make sense in our world?
– Is it technically challenging?
– Is it beautiful enough to hold attention?
– Does it touch story, idea, or spirit?
If yes, it’s worth doing.
And this does.
Truth
What does truth in art mean?
It means I’m being consistent across the whole process.
That I’m doing what I say I’m doing.
That I’m not using shortcuts.
That I’m not chasing recognition.
Success, for me, isn’t fame.
It’s that the work makes sense together.
That it’s done well.
That someone can see the value in it, without being told.
Without needing permission from the system.
I exist outside of the gallery context.
I didn't go to art school.
And I don't play the Instagram artist game.
For a long time, I felt like an outsider.
I still do.
But maybe that's a seat reserved for someone who can enjoy it.
Crowds freak me out.
And social interaction is painfully overwhelming.
So maybe it's a good thing that I'm outside the system.
And maybe that's the only place to stand if you want to accurately map it out.
One can't draw the mountain while they're standing on it.
Villain
So, who's the bad guy in this story?
Maybe it’s me for not believing in my own route.
For not defending my boundaries in a capitalist world.
For constantly slowing down to check my map.
In the military, we called them map checks.
You stop. Reorient. Look again.
That’s what I’ve been doing.
Maybe I haven’t figured out a way to say: This is what I’m doing.
Maybe I don’t have the strategy yet.
But I’m trying to figure it out.
Why?
Right now, if I had to describe where I’m at:
Subjectively hopeful.
Objectively struggling.
If I do manage to pull myself out of this, then you’ll know that on Sunday, the 6th of July,
This artist was at a very low point and decided to go lower to figure out how to get out.
Art is confusing.
Making things is confusing.
And every time I reach into the pit of despair that is creation,
I have to go deeper to excavate something of value.
That’s where I am now.
Reducing myself to nothing for a few days.
It’s not the biggest sacrifice anyone’s ever made.
But maybe it’s enough to get me through to the next stage.
And if it is, maybe we all get a little trick for how to pull ourselves out of the depressions that making stuff brings.
I love you loads.
Hope you have an amazing day.
And hopefully next week,
I’m writing to you from the edge of something good.
—R