The Dreaded Blank Page...

There's a moment right before the first mark that I don't think gets talked about enough. The easel's set up, the paper's clean, the light's good. And still nothing happens. 

If you've ever stood in front of a blank page and felt something more complicated than "okay, ready," you're not the only one.

What do you actually feel?

I want to ask you something. When you sit down in front of a blank page or canvas, what's the first thing you feel?

Is it excitement? Does your stomach tighten a little? Do you freeze up, stall, second-guess a mark before you've even made it? Or does the blankness feel like relief, a clean start after a rough week? I'd love to know, honestly, what shows up first for you, and what usually follows it.

I've asked other artist friends, and the answers were just some of their thoughts on how they feel before they even start creating.

Now, as a Bach Flower Practitioner/Artist, I'm used to using these little bottles of ‘relief’ in everyday situations but especially when I’m doing anything creative, 

So, I thought this might be helpful for you. Below, I've matched some of the most common responses from artists when asked how they feel, to specific Bach Remedies.

I should say up front that these remedies work on an energy level and haven’t been scientifically validated, however, I've found the framework useful for naming what I actually feel before I pick up a brush, which can be really helpful. I also use them in my artwork to bring their positive energy to my paintings.

So, feelings that come up, and the remedies paired with them 

• "I don't think I'm good enough to even start." This feeling is about quiet self-doubt, and it's usually paired with Larch, for a lack of confidence even when the skill is genuinely there.

• "What if I ruin it before I've even begun?" That fear of the first mistake points to Mimulus, tied to the fear of not wanting to spoil that clean canvas or piece of paper (especially if it’s a good quality and expensive piece)

• "I've got five ideas and can't pick one." Scleranthus is all about indecision between options, pulled in different directions at once.

• "My mind's just empty. Nothing's coming." A total block often gets matched with Olive, for a mind that's stuck or frozen.

• "I want it to be good right now, not after twenty rough tries." Impatiens, is indicated here for impatience with the process itself, wanting the result before you've even started.

• "I keep finding reasons to do literally anything else but start." Procrastination that comes from anxiety or dread rather than laziness is often linked to Hornbeam, a kind of mental tiredness at the thought of even starting-often described as the 'Monday morning feeling'

• "What's the point of trying?" That heavier discouragement points to Gorse if it's more of a settled hopelessness, or Sweet Chestnut if it's sharper, more like deep anguish.

• "Everyone else's work is better than mine." Comparison shows up as Willow, a quiet resentment or ‘poor me’ scenario.

• "I'm excited but I can't land on anything." A scattered, dreamy kind of excitement that doesn't quite touch down is often paired with Clematis, present, but not grounded in the task in front of you.

Why bother naming it

I don't think most artists treat the blank page as a technical problem. It's an emotional one first. 

Naming what's actually happening, dread, perfectionism, overwhelm, boredom, tends to help more than just pushing through, helping us to feel connected to why we are in the place we are.

Sometimes what you need isn't a better brush or a better reference photo. It's realizing you're stalling because there is an underlying emotional current that is influencing us, not because you don't know what to paint.

So tell me: what do you feel when the page is blank? Does any of this sound familiar? Drop a comment, I'm curious.

Bach flower remedies are a complementary practice, not a proven treatment. This post is meant as a way to think about what's going on, not medical or therapeutic advice.