Creativity : Inside the Process, Part 3
Inside the process -
Part 3
Over time, I’ve come to recognize that my creative process moves in phases—each one messy, meaningful, and alive in its own way. Here they are. All 11 phases.
The path to change is practice.
Each phase of a creative process offers something distinct and shapes not only the work itself, but also the one engaging in it. And everyone is different. While these stages can be described individually, they are not truly separate—they function as a whole, each one flowing into the next. With repeated practice, a deeper connection between the creative process and the rest of life begins to emerge.
This connection is one of the primary reasons I’m such an advocate for using a creative process as a microcosm of life—a testing ground for experimenting with new skills, practicing new approaches, exercising new perspectives, and embracing the experiences of being human—from loneliness to falling in love & everything in between.
My artistic process, in 11 phases:
Resistance
Initial Stroke Excitement
Build Structure
Free Working
The Fear of Messing Up
Anxious Marks
Messiness
Nothing to Lose
Frantic Working
Feel the End Coming
Stopping on the Upswing
Resistance
Resistance often marks the beginning. It isn’t procrastination, but a form of preparation. It’s the body and mind making space for what’s to come. This stage can be misunderstood—what looks like avoidance may, in fact, be deep listening. Attending to what arises in awareness without rushing creates a natural opening. Before there’s even a conscious decision to begin, the work is already underway.
Initial Stroke Excitement
Beginnings can feel electric—full of potential, purpose, and energy. Early gestures carry freedom because nothing is yet at risk. The material is just that—material. Nothing is precious, and so every mark becomes a possibility. These first strokes, even when invisible in the final piece, lay the emotional and energetic foundation for all that follows.
Build Structure
As momentum naturally shifts, the need for structure arises. Boundaries are created—edges that contain the process. The work becomes more defined, and the form becomes something to push against. In many areas of life, structure provides a sense of containment that allows for greater emotional and creative freedom. It holds the intensity, keeping it from bleeding into other roles or responsibilities.
Free Working
Within a structured frame, freedom often deepens. There’s room to explore, to follow intuition without clinging to outcomes. The process feels playful and alive. Without yet realizing it, a kind of attachment forms—a quiet falling in love with the process, the piece, or the moment.
The Fear of Messing Up
With attachment comes fear. When something begins to feel meaningful, the stakes rise. There may be freezing, hesitation, analysis, doubt. The very presence of fear signals that something matters. And even with awareness of how fear can block flow, letting go becomes difficult. The grip tightens. The risk of loss looms.
Anxious Marks
Despite fear, movement resumes—but now under pressure. Every gesture carries weight. Internal voices question: “Is this too much?” “Too little?” “Did that ruin it?” The work becomes muddled. What once felt clear becomes cloudy, mirroring a mind caught in overthinking and uncertainty.
Utter messiness
This is the crash. The feeling of failure. The sense that whatever was being built is now lost. The inner critic resurfaces. Doubt, shame, and isolation may follow. There is an urge to fix it—urgently, desperately—but often, the only real option is to step away. In this vulnerable state, connection and reassurance are needed, but may be hard to seek or receive. The disconnect can feel lonely and raw.
Nothing to Lose
Then something shifts. The despair cracks open into defiance or liberation. When there's nothing left to protect, expression becomes honest, bold, unfiltered. Energy returns, not from control but from surrender. This stage is where presence takes precedence over outcome. There’s freedom in no longer needing to please or prove.
Frantic Working
Momentum builds into immersion. The process becomes all-encompassing. Life bends around the rhythm of creation. There’s purpose, urgency, and flow. This stage holds empowerment and agency—a sense of being deeply engaged, grounded in capability, and alive in expression.
Feel the End Coming
Gradually, the drive slows. There’s more space for observation and subtle adjustment. A quiet knowing begins to emerge: the piece is approaching completion. Attention shifts from doing to being—with the work, with its presence, with its final unfolding.
Stopping on the Upswing
Ending well can be its own kind of challenge. It requires discernment—knowing when something is whole, even if a part of it remains mysterious. Overworking can flatten or unravel what was once alive. Sometimes, missing the ending means starting the entire conversation again.
Reflection
These stages aren’t reserved for painting or artistic practice. Any meaningful act—parenting, healing, writing, building relationships—has its own rhythm. The creative process simply makes the rhythm visible.
What phase are you in? What does it ask of you? Can you stay with it, even if it’s uncomfortable?
