Inspiration doesn't always arrive with a grand entrance. More often it enters gently, through a line in a poem, a slant of light, a memory that drifts in uninvited. But to even notice it, let alone hold on to it, requires something quietly radical: openness. Being open to inspiration asks that we soften. It asks that we pay attention to what stirs us, what catches our breath, and leaves us in awe. And that kind of attentiveness can feel vulnerable--especially in a world that praises productivity, favors certainty and is constantly moving.
In today's post, let's talk about how to stay open to inspiration in your art practice--while I share tangible, meaningful ways to gently invite it in. Whether you're in an artistic lull or simply feeling the weight of daily life, these reflections and ideas are here to help you rediscover your artistic passions.
BEING BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE MOVED
Being open is not passive. It's an act of bravery. It takes courage to let yourself be moved. To notice beauty and not turn away. To listen for the small voice within that says: "pay attention, this matters." Often inspiration is such an ambiguous, fleeting moment, that doesn't always make sense. Only it does...to you.
To be inspired is to embrace the potential of driving your vision forward. And that means allowing yourself to feel. Inspiration often lives in the emotional spaces we try to guard: the tender awe that stirs artistic beginnings, the heartbreak of setbacks along the journey, the hopeful wonder of possibilities and the nervous stillness that brings clarity.
To be inspired we have to be brave enough to let things touch us, feel them deeply and respond through our own artistic work. To look at a painting and be swept into the composition, to let the words of a poem shake something loose within us. To feel the shivers of a melody and not immediately brush it off.
There is courage in being tender.
INSPIRATION DOESN'T LOOK HOW WE IMAGINED
We often expect inspiration to strike loudly--to arrive in a flash of brilliance, a sudden wave of clarity or an emotion that demands we create something right away. But most of the time, it doesn't show up like that. Inspiration can be quiet. Subtle. It can look like a leaf caught in a breeze, the textures of a landscape, or a line from a book that settles in your chest and stays there.
The truth is that inspiration often moves slowly. It arrives not as a shout, but a whisper--a soft invitation to notice, to feel, and to return to your art delicately changed. Sometimes it asks us to pause and pay attention to our inner world, not just the outer one. And other times we don't even realize we've been inspired until we sit down to create and something unexpected flows out.
The more we release the pressure to chase big, dramatic sparks of creativity, the more we start to notice the small, meaningful flickers already around us. When we stop waiting for the lightning bolt, we begin to find inspiration in the gentle, everyday moments--and those are often the ones that stay with us the longest.
Here are some ways to stay open and receptive to that artistic spark of inspiration:
Stay Curious, Not Critical
One of the kindest things we can offer our creative selves is curiosity. When we approach our art with curiosity instead of criticism, we give ourselves room to explore, to try and to grow. We shift from asking, "Is this good enough?" to asking, "What can I learn from this?" or "What happens if I try this?"
Curiosity invites softness into your art practice. It encourages experimentation without the weight of judgement. It allows you to make a messy page, test out a new color palette, or draw something unfamiliar--without needing the outcome to be perfect. It keeps the door open to inspiration because it says. "I'm willing to see what happens."
Criticism on the other hand, tends to shut things down. It tells us we're doing it wrong. It narrows the artistic path. When we're overly critical, we stop before we start--we second guess the impulse to create at all.
So, when facing a blank page, or looking at a piece that didn't turn out how you'd hoped, try asking gentle questions instead. "What drew me to make this? What part of this feels interesting? What would I like to explore next?" Let curiosity be your guide. It's not only more sustainable, but also far more joyful.
Don't Wait for the Right Mood
There's a silent myth that many artists carry--that creativity only flows when the mood is right, when the energy is just so, when inspiration strikes in a jolt. But the truth is, art often asks us to meet it where we are, not just where we wish we were.
Some of the truest and revealing work comes not from waiting, but from beginning anyway--even when we feel tired, distracted, or unsure. When we choose to show up regardless of mood, we create space for artistic movement. For shift. For something surprising to arrive.
Because Inspiration is often bigger than how we feel in the moment. It moves beyond our temporary emotions, waiting patiently for us to make space for it. When we begin--even gently, even clumsily--we invite inspiration to come rest where we are. We say, "You're welcome here, just as I am."
Showing up becomes a soft and steady offering to the creative process itself. It's how we honor the relationship we have with our art through our full presence. Through showing up again and again, we build a gentle cadence of creativity in our lives. One that respects the ebb and flow of inspiration, while holding the door open for it to return.
Create an Inspiration Capture System
Inspiration can be fleeting--a color palette you notice on a walk, a phrase you overhear in conversation, the shape of a shadow, the pull of the moon. Instead of waiting for those ideas to return later (when they rarely do), create a simple system to capture moments of inspiration as they arise. You can achieve this effortlessly by using the notes app in your phone to jot down these inspirational sparks, or by creating a picture album in your phone where you take photos of all the things you find moving.
But for many artists, your sketchbook can also become more than a place to practice--it can be a sanctuary for inspiration. A space where passing thoughts, ideas, and quiet feelings are gently gathered and held. Think of it as an ongoing conversation between you and your creativity, where nothing has to be finished or perfect.
You might scribble a phrase or quote that stirred something in you, sketch a shape you can't stop thinking about, or jot down all the colors you see in a sunset. These fragments may seem small, but over time, they become a rich archive of information- a collection of soft beginnings that can lead you in your next piece.
By keeping your sketchbook close and allowing it to hold the tender moments of inspiration, you give yourself the permission to notice, to pause, and to record what speaks to your artistic heart. It's a quiet way of saying yes to your art, even before the art begins.
Conclusion
Inspiration is not a distant muse waiting in the perfect moment. It's here--all around us--tucked into the hum of a quiet morning, the quiet ache of a memory you can't quite place, the rhythm of your daily life. It's in the ordinary, the overlooked, the deeply personal. The more we open ourselves to the beauty that surrounds us, the more we begin to see that inspiration isn't rare--it's constant.
Let the world remind you--again and again--that inspiration is never far.
xo,
