5 Soulful Rituals to Reignite Your Creative Spark (When You Feel Stuck)

Somewhere between the quiet days and cluttered thoughts, the spark began to fade. This is how I’m finding my way back—through ritual, rhythm, and art. ✿

🎨 The Creative Spark: Why It Fades—and How to Find It Again

Somewhere between the quiet moments, the days that blur together, and the cluttered thoughts that mirror my apartment, I’ve been waiting for the spark to return. I keep imagining what it might feel like to fall in love with my art again—like a part of me that’s been silent is finally calling back.

I remember the days when inspiration didn’t just flicker—it roared. Back when I painted with urgency and hunger, driven by pure passion. In my aunt and uncle’s backyard, I’d lose hours under the sun, brush in hand, and walk away with something raw and beautiful.

I remember that one winter in Asheville, when I locked myself in my apartment and painted all afternoon to the rhythm of a playlist and scraps from the local food pantry—expired groceries from Whole Foods and Earthfare that somehow felt like treasure.

I remember evenings when I’d take the bus to the community college art store because the supplies were cheaper, then ride home and paint alone in my apartment—while across town, the musicians played and the crowds danced at the weekly show I used to photograph. That was the moment the shift began. I stopped chasing the scene and turned inward, trading the stage lights for quiet, and the lens for a brush.

I’ve painted a little recently, the spark flickering here and there, but the resistance is heavy. It’s thick and feels impossible to cut through, each brushstroke feeling fatal. I used to paint for hours every day, but now my supplies sit untouched, and my ideas feel stuck—jammed somewhere between fatigue and fear. My heart is hungry for creativity, because making art has always been how I come back to myself.

The resistance is part fear, part disinterest. Depression distorts everything. Sometimes I can make piece after piece with urgency and clarity, and other times, like now, the ideas disappear the second I try to reach for them. I hesitate before beginning—not because I don’t want to create, but because I’m afraid of what might come out, or worse, of nothing coming at all.

If you’re wondering how to overcome creative burnout or reignite your passion when you’ve gone creatively numb, I get it. My solution for reviving the spark and returning to the easel—hopefully with more consistency—is to stop waiting for inspiration to strike and instead create space for it to show up. I’m learning that waiting for things like motivation or inspiration puts me in a passive mode, and I need to take action for the results to come. I want to learn to make mistakes and, the hardest part of all, be okay with a piece going nowhere.

I imagine creativity as a boundless river—limitless in direction, always flowing, always available. The ideas never run out. All I have to do is dip my feet in and trust the current. The real challenge isn’t finding inspiration—it’s choosing to step into the water, again and again, even when it feels cold, uncertain, or still. The spark comes in the doing.

So that’s what I’m trying to do—return to the easel, not with pressure or perfectionism, but with presence and grit. To show up whether or not I feel ready. To let the act of painting be the prayer, the process, the proof that I’m still here, still trying.

This isn’t a how-to or a productivity hack. It’s not even a tutorial on ways to spark artistic inspiration. It’s a return. A soft re-entry into the world of color, emotion, and expression—on the page, in my spirit, and throughout the quiet, ordinary days of creative recovery.

🎧 Ritual 1: Use Music to Unlock Emotion and Creative Flow

Before I ever pick up a brush, I start with sound. For me, music taps into that creative river I talked about in the intro more than anything else I’ve tried. With a paintbrush in hand, music becomes my muse—moving through me and onto the canvas. The lyrics become a language I translate into color, gesture, and rhythm.

I create playlists for painting because they’re not just an accessory—they’re part of the ritual. They help me feel more deeply, drop into the moment, and let go of the chatter in my mind. Painting to music lets me move my body as I paint, letting the beat guide my marks and the melody shape the emotion. Sometimes, the lyrics narrate memories I’ve buried—truths I’ve never spoken aloud, secrets waiting to be revealed in shape and hue.

I curate my playlists like I’m scoring a film: What would this painting sound like if it were a scene? Some days it’s moody ballads on shuffle. Other days, it’s underrated music on YouTube I’ve just discovered and can’t stop looping. It always depends on what I need to feel—what I’m ready to let surface.

Having a playlist ready means I can return to the ritual more easily, even when I’m overwhelmed. It’s like flipping a switch. It tells my brain: It’s time to create—not perfectly, but honestly.

If you’ve ever wondered how to get into a creative flow state, or how to overcome artistic block, using music for creative inspiration might be the bridge between where you are and where your art wants to go. This is one of my favorite creative rituals for artists—intuitive, emotional, and endlessly personal.

👕 Ritual 2: Dress Like an Artist to Signal It’s Time to Create

It’s easy to minimize your creative pursuits as just a hobby—something you do on the side, but not something serious. I knew I wanted to paint for a living ever since I started in 2019, and one of the ways I began learning how to take my art seriously was by creating an art uniform. Before I started my day as a painter, I’d get dressed like I was going to a real job—because it was one.

Summer of 2024—my first summer back in New York—was no different. In the mornings, I’d put on my uniform: an oversized button-down shirt that once belonged to my uncle, a pair of old jeans streaked with paint, and the clogs I used to wear when I worked at Chipotle. I’d do my makeup, spritz on perfume, and wear sunglasses as I painted in the backyard studio my aunt and uncle created for me.

Putting on my uniform signaled to my brain that it was time to work. And if art was work, then it deserved to be taken seriously. I entered a different headspace—part artist, part businesswoman—because this isn’t just a hobby. It’s my livelihood.

My art uniform for creatives isn’t about aesthetics—it’s about intention. It separates the noise of everyday life from the sacredness of the creative act. Like slipping into character before stepping onstage, it helps me shift into a mindset where I’m ready to make something real.

Whether it’s a thrifted shirt, your coziest hoodie, or a pair of earrings that make you feel bold—wear something that reminds you: you’re allowed to show up as an artist. And being an artist? That’s serious business.

If you’re looking for creative routines for artists or struggling to overcome creative block, try starting with what you wear. A physical ritual like putting on your art clothes can create mental clarity and signal to your body that it’s time to create.

📖 Ritual 3: Ground Yourself with a Creative Devotional

Before I paint, I often reach for The Creative Act by Rick Rubin. The book isn’t structured like a traditional manual—there are no chapters, just reflections that read like poetic musings on what it means to live a creative life. I flip to a section at random and let it set the tone for the session.

His words are encouraging, thought-provoking, and disarmingly simple. They remind me that creativity isn’t about forcing brilliance into existence—it’s about showing up, being present, and listening for what wants to come through. I’m especially comforted by his belief that creativity is an unlimited resource. That idea is medicine when doubt creeps in and I start to believe I have nothing left to say.

I treat this book like a creative’s bible. Reading it before I begin helps me approach art with reverence, like a quiet ritual. My studio becomes a sanctuary. I sit at the easel, chew on his words, and begin mixing paint. I’m not here to perform. I’m here to connect.

For anyone searching for daily rituals for artists or wondering how to overcome creative blocks, this book offers more than advice—it offers mindset shifts. Each page feels like a soft nudge back into your creative flow.

Each painting becomes a kind of journal entry—something raw, honest, and deeply mine. And sometimes, all it takes is one page to break through the noise and begin again. If you’re looking for books to spark creativity, Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act is one I return to again and again.

🔍 Ritual 4: Collect Inspiration Like a Forensic Artist

Inspiration doesn’t always arrive in a flash. Sometimes, it has to be uncovered—carefully, curiously, like a forensic artist piecing together a story from fragments. One of my most grounding creative rituals for artists is collecting inspiration without the pressure to produce anything immediately. Don’t wait for ideas to strike; go looking for them.

If you’re wondering how to find artistic inspiration when you’re stuck, start by absorbing art with intention. That might mean spending a Saturday afternoon wandering through a museum, letting your instincts guide you toward the works that make you pause. It might look like flipping through magazines at a local bookstore or paging through art books at the library. Personally, I’m especially drawn to fashion magazines and often pull color stories, shapes, or moods from editorials to use in my own way.

During the summer of 2024, I spent many afternoons watching art history videos on YouTube—particularly ones on Jean-Michel Basquiat. I love his art style. I studied his techniques and made them my own—not by copying, but by interpreting what moved me through my own lens. I also watched documentaries on topics relevant to the work I was creating. I’d let my intuition guide my brushstrokes as I listened, letting the story unfold in color and symbol.

This kind of intentional consumption is one of the best ways to get inspired to make art. It helps refine your taste and clarify your instincts. It reminds me that inspiration isn’t about mimicking—it’s about resonance. I learned this through Austin Kleon’s book Steal Like an Artist , where he explains that originality isn’t about creating from nothing. It’s about gathering from many sources, guided by your personal vision, and transforming those influences into something uniquely yours.

If you want to learn how to be a more intentional artist, start by becoming a better observer. It takes presence to treat the world like a field of inspiration, but it’s always there. In mismatched tile patterns. In the color of someone’s coat. In the way a lyric clings to you all day. The art is everywhere—if you’re willing to look.

You don’t need a studio to begin. Just a curious mind, a willingness to explore, and the patience to keep collecting—even when you don’t yet know what it’s all leading to.

🛍 Ritual 5: Choose Art Supplies That Support Your Vision

Buying art supplies is one of my favorite parts of the creative process. It feels like assembling ingredients for a recipe—each one chosen with care, each one holding the potential to transform.

If you’ve ever wondered what to buy for painting at home or how to level up your work, the answer often begins with your tools. Through watching college-level art professors on YouTube, I’ve learned just how much quality matters. Higher-quality paints are more pigmented and vibrant. Better brushes offer more control. Good paper lasts longer and can withstand the demands of wet media. Think of it like a craftsperson choosing their tools—just as a skilled woodworker wouldn’t build a table from splintered wood or a designer wouldn’t stitch a gown with brittle thread, an artist needs materials that uphold the integrity of their vision.

You don’t have to buy the most expensive supplies—but you should buy the best you can afford. If you’re a beginner, start small. Look up the best art supplies for beginners and invest in a few high-quality essentials. Because good tools support good work. And when your materials can rise to meet your skill, your art speaks with more clarity, longevity, and intention.

There’s also something deeply affirming about a trip to the local art store. I wander the aisles like an explorer—testing shades, thumbing through paper pads, considering which weight, texture, and tone will help bring my next idea to life. Whether you’re a seasoned painter or just getting started, these kinds of art supply shopping tips can transform your entire approach.

It’s a quiet ritual of preparation, but also of belief. Every item I pick up is a small act of saying: I take this seriously. I’m creating something that matters. And this is how I honor it—from the very beginning—with intention, care, and curiosity.

🌅 Final Thoughts: The Spark Is in the Return

You don’t need to feel ready. You don’t need a perfect idea or perfect conditions. You just need a way back in. These five rituals—simple, grounding, and deeply personal—are how I’m reconnecting with my creativity after months of stillness.

If you’re in a season where your passion feels far away, know this: you’re not alone. Start small. Put on a playlist. Flip through an art book. Buy that one paint color that excites you. Let the spark find you in the doing.

Creativity doesn’t vanish—it waits. And you are always allowed to begin again.

💌 Softly Spoken, Sincerely Shared
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