Your Art Practice Has Seasons (And That’s Normal!)

A lot of us quietly carry with us a specific version of being an artist.

The one where we show up consistently, make meaningful work every week, build momentum, and move steadily toward our goals.

And then there’s real life. I have students:

caring for their parents.
caring for their grandkids.
caring for their own kids.

I have students working jobs because art isn’t their main income.

Students navigating health challenges.
Students navigating burnout.
Students navigating neurodivergence and the very real limits and rhythms that come with it.

Of course your art practice has seasons.

It would be strange if it didn’t.

Hey there! 👋 I’m Carrie.

I am here to remind you of something important. You are already an artist.

Here on Artist Strong, I help creatives returning to their art stop feeling like copyists or hobbyists. Instead, they start creating their first real series of artwork, work that reflects who they are and what they care about.

If you’re ready to reclaim your creative time, get support, and finally draw and paint with your own unique voice, I’m here to help.

Sign up for my free workshop, How to Transform Your Ideas Into Artwork That Is Uniquely Yours; join thousands of artists who’ve already started reconnecting with their art.  You will find the link below.

The Problem Isn’t the Season. It’s the Story We Tell About It.

Most artists don’t struggle because their practice changes.

They struggle because they make those changes mean something about them.

Have you had any of these thoughts?

If I’m not producing, I must not be disciplined.
If I’m not inspired, I must have lost it.
If I can’t focus, I must not be serious enough.

But what if none of that is true?

What if your art practice is allowed to expand and contract alongside your life?

What if instead of fighting your current season, you learned how to work with it?

The Two Rhythms: Ebb and Flow

I think about art practice in two core rhythms:

Ebb seasons
and
Flow seasons

Flow is what we tend to value. It’s certainly what our culture celebrates!

You’re making consistently. Ideas are clicking. You feel momentum. You’re producing work you’re proud of. 

Ebb seasons look very different.

Things are slower. Ideas feel unclear or unfinished. Energy is lower or redirected. You might even be absorbing more than you’re creating.

But here’s the thing: ebb seasons are not empty.

They are where ideas develop, where experiences deepen and where your perspective quietly changes.

They just don’t always look productive. 

It doesn’t have a pretty painting at the end of it waiting for its Instagram reveal.

But it’s the beginning of work that reflects you and what you care about.

A Story From My Own Practice

I had a solo show while I was pregnant, and I knew my life was going to change after the birth of my first child. I didn’t know I was going to have my baby the same week the pandemic hit North America. A lot of my life went on pause.

I still created work during that time. I explored a few ideas, even applied for things, but nothing really stuck. I started projects I’m still working on today but I didn’t finish any of those series. And every idea I submitted for local grants and exhibitions in Houston was rejected.

A few years earlier, that would have been the confirmation I needed to give up on my art.

Now it feels different. Instead it feels like a challenge to go deeper and to push my ideas further. 

It didn’t hurt to hear my applications were strong when I asked for feedback. Past me would have been too scared I would hear: you just aren’t good enough.

Since moving to Canada, first to BC and then to Alberta, something has shifted again. My kiddo is more independent, and I’ve had the space to start new work, ideas that are really challenging me and the way I show up as an artist.

It’s exciting and uncomfortable because nothing is guaranteed. But finding grant and exhibition opportunities that actually interest me has pulled me back into the work in a more serious way. I’m making pieces that feel like a stretch.

I’ve even picked up paint again after almost 6 years of focusing mostly on colored pencil.

After my solo show, I remember feeling a little lost. Like I was supposed to know what the next big project was.

But I don’t think it works like that.

I have to test ideas, start new series, follow what holds my attention and, important for this recovering perfectionist: let some things go.

It’s always in the doing that I find my way into the next idea.

When Life Disrupts Your Practice

There are seasons that don’t just slow you down. Instead, they are the interruption.

Moving.
New parenthood.
Health challenges.
Major life transitions.

I had a gap right in the middle of moving that made it incredibly hard to get back into my art. I finished one of my embroidered works but had no plans and no designs ready for my next drawing or my new embroidery.

Momentum is fragile. And without a plan in place for new work, or starting some other work before completing that embroidery, I came to a screeching halt.

When momentum breaks it can feel like you’re starting from zero.

I constantly hear thoughts in my mind during breaks like: “Do I still know how to do this? What if I forgot everything I learned? Maybe I don’t know how to paint anymore.”

If you’ve felt that, you’re not alone. 

Practical Strategies for Different Seasons

Instead of expecting yourself to maintain the same practice year-round, what if you had different practices for different seasons?

1. Busy Life Seasons

This is when your time is limited and unpredictable.

Instead of asking, “How do I do more?”
Ask, “Where is time already leaking?”

Scroll time is the easiest place to start. I get this wonderful little notification every week from my Apple phone telling my how much time I’ve spent on it.

What’s yours tell you?

Try this:

• Keep a small sketchbook within reach at all times
• Replace one scroll session a day with 10 minutes of drawing
• Set a low bar: one page, one study, one idea

I will endlessly shout from the rooftops about the benefits of a small, near-daily practice. This is the kind of thing I try to do most days, and when life is really full, it is the small thing that keeps my hands in my art. 

These moments add up. I’ve mentioned several times in different videos how I have a lovely little sketchbook filled with nondominant hand drawings from that very practice.

Let’s look at the busy moments of our lives differently: Doctors’ offices. Waiting in the car. Grocery lines.

I keep thinking I should bring a sketchbook to draw the kids while my child takes ice skating lessons!

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s called creative practice for a reason.

Continuity helps foster momentum when you do return to your seasons of flow.

2. Ebb Seasons

This is where a lot of artists get stuck because it feels like “nothing is happening.” It often lacks the feeling of resolution because it’s not about finishing an artwork or series. And even when we might finish something, the momentum isn’t there.

But this is where you build depth.

Try this:

• Collect instead of create (images, ideas, phrases, questions)
• Write about your work instead of making it
• Revisit old pieces and ask better questions about them
• Let yourself follow curiosity without needing an outcome

You are not behind.

Often I take photographs, do small sketches and even start collecting image references for ideas I have but feel too scared to start. I will open my sketchbook dedicated to collage and just glue one or two things in it.

And it is from those very small practices, creating things I don’t even plan to share, where I stumble upon the next concept that brings me straight back to my flow.

You are building something you can’t fully see yet. I’ve come to realize it’s a kind of creative faith. Not in yourself, but in the process itself. Trust that it will lead you to your next big idea and this period of ebb is necessary for you to discover it.

When I let go of the need to control every part of my process and maintain that faith that these creative breadcrumbs (HT to Grace Chon in our interview here) will lead the way, my art follows.

3. Rebuilding After a Gap

This might be the most fragile season of all.

You want to come back, but everything feels harder than it should.

This is when my inner critic tells me I’ve forgotten everything and I never was an artist so why am I trying in the first place?

It literally doesn’t matter what my CV says. My mind tells me the opposite.

The mistake here is going too big too fast.

Anytime I’ve set a grand goal from this place, I don’t feel in ebb or flow, I feel stalled. 

Try this:

• Start with materials you already know and trust
• Recreate something simple just to re-engage your hand
• Set a short time boundary (10–20 minutes)
• Focus on finishing something small, not starting something big

Momentum can come from completion.

When I started planning several image references and finally decided to pick up my paint brushes again, I didn’t start with the big canvas. I pulled out some bristol board and did a fast colored pencil drawing. It helped me consider my composition, color, and get a better feel for the idea. It told me I wanted some additional image references to support the final work.

After several weeks I finally pulled out the paint. But not before several more sketches, new compositions for parts of the same series, and drawing out my final composition for the big painting.

And then, when I did pull out the paints, I was very intentional about how I approached my painting:

First, an underpainting in raw umber of the background.

Second, pull out my greens to focus on the environment behind my figure.

Third, browns and red for my barn and hillsides.

I took it in steps so I could remind my nervous system this isn’t the end of the world, it’s just painting.

4. Expansion Seasons

This is when energy returns.

Ideas feel exciting again and you’re ready to push.

This is where you test, explore new directions, and take risks.

After many years of feeling in ebb, I feel like I’m on the edge of being in flow again. It feels flippin’ wonderful, exciting, and almost a little scary! I can’t stop thinking about my art. I’m thinking about new compositions, new environments to place my figures, and new combinations of different media.

But I’m not here because I have a full plan. I’m here because I got curious about an idea and I investigated it. I started with image references and a loose sketch. And when that sketch didn’t turn out exactly as I hoped, I remained curious. What could I do instead?

You don’t need to have the full plan.

You need to start making.

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The Work Is Always in the Doing

After my solo show, I felt a kind of emptiness.

What’s next?

What’s the next big idea?

I wanted so badly for the next big project and external deadline that I fought tooth and nail for ideas and things to create. I fought my ebb period for most of it. I tried to force things.

I’ve learned something since then: you don’t think your way into your next series.

You test ideas.
You follow threads.
You make things that don’t go anywhere.

And somewhere in that process, something clicks. 

I’ve literally stumbled into new ideas by researching others.

You work your way into it.

A Question for You

What season are you in right now?

Busy?
Ebb?
Rebuilding?
Expanding?

And more importantly:

What would it look like to work with that season instead of against it?

Let’s Talk

I want to hear from you:

What season does your art practice feel like right now?
What’s one small adjustment you could make to support it?

Drop it in the comments. I read every one.

And if this resonated, share it with another artist who might need the reminder:

You’re not behind! You’re in a season.

If you want guidance on navigating these seasons of creativity sign up for my free workshop How to Transform Your Ideas Into Artwork That Is Uniquely Yours, where I offer examples of small near-daily practices for your art. You will find the link below.

As always, thanks so much for watching.

Remember: proudly call yourself an artist.
Together, we are Artist Strong.