Why You Should Turn Your World Upside Down Every Once in a While

Let’s face it, we all live in our own happy bubble. Most of the time. We get used to what works and go with it, because why fix what ain’t broke? We get the same order from the coffee shop, cook the same meals, walk the same routes, wear the same outfits, talk to the same people, go to the same places on vacation.

And this isn’t just true with our normal day-to-day lives. As artists, we’ve also created our own creative bubbles. We choose the same color scheme, the same medium, the same surface, even the same spot next to the window to work. Same background music. Same subject matter. Same camera. Same brush.

It’s not such a bad thing. We are creatures of habit, and forming these habits and repetitive choices makes our lives a little easier. We aren’t always bombarded with the “what if” because we know these things are safe. My house is safe. Cedar Point is an awesome place to take a vacation. My husband’s big red sweater is just the right amount of warm and fuzzy.

But there does come a time when this bubble starts to feel more like a cage. Life can stagnate, as can our creative practice, and that’s when it’s time to turn your world upside down.

Ask yourself: why do I choose (insert safe choice here)?

And then find something that is the exact opposite.

Always go for the orange? Time to paint with violet.

Always listen to classical music? Time to crank up some Opeth.

Always using your Nikon DSLR? Time to try film.

Because once you start using this new, foreign product that feels completely alien to you, a few things will happen to you:

You will gain a new perspective.

Trying a new color, medium, tool, etc. will give you an insight you would not have otherwise gained if you’d stayed in the safety net. Think about it like this: say you went for your daily walk, but instead of taking the normal route, you veer onto a different path. Down this path you happen upon a group of deer drinking from a creek. They perk up at the sound of you, then resume their drinking. It’s the coolest thing you’ve seen in a while. And you realize that you would have never seen it if you’d just taken the normal route. That’s what I mean by perspective.

You will get new ideas.

They tell mothers that sleep begets sleep and they tell artists that art begets art. I’m here to tell you that new begets new. Trying something new, even if it’s something as silly as a different brush, gets your brain wondering what else you could use this tool for. And then the ideas will start flowing.

You will remember why you have your comfort bubble.

Even if you love this new tool/medium/latte flavor you will remember why you love your original tool/medium/latte flavor. You will gain a new appreciation for it. Not only that but you may also rekindle your passion for it. We’ve all listened to that song over and over again and gotten sick of it, only to suddenly love it again after a few weeks of listening to other stuff. Having this happen to our creative practices could be a game changer. Suddenly you don’t just have a newfound appreciation for your landscape work, but you realize why you love it. Why it’s who you are.

So a week ago when I started to get into the groove of watercolor landscapes, so much so that I was starting to feel stuck, I got out my oils and went to work with something I’m pretty sure is the exact opposite of watercolor. Watercolor flows, drips, spreads from one color into another in a swirly dance of awesome. Oil paint stays in one place, requires you to think a little bit before laying down more color, but is also massively forgiving and takes forever to dry so you don’t have to rush it like you have to sometimes with watercolor.

Not only did this give me a different perspective, but I’m also kind of into it. Believe it or not I can still work intuitively with oils, but it’s a different kind of intuition. Unlike watercolor, which is a fast-paced medium, I’m forced to work slooooooowwww. Paintings need a day or two of drying before I can continue. It’s a newfound lesson in patience.

So that’s another thing that can happen: you could open yet another door for yourself. Since watercolor and oil are two different mediums, saying one is better than the other would be a disservice to both. They’re different. Which means the paintings you make with them will be different. Which means that if I’m looking to make something flowy and drippy and freckled with salt stars, I’m going to go with watercolor. And if I’m wanting my painting to have layers and texture and brush strokes, then I’m going to grab the oils.

Remember that different path with the drinking deer? Going down this path doesn’t mean you’ll never go down the other path again. No. It means you now have two directions to choose from instead of just the one.

And doesn’t that just sound awesome?