There is a running joke I often make - that the reason I became an artist is simply because I'm far less grumpy when I've had time to lose myself amongst my paintbrushes and paints.

And while there is certainly some truth to that, I've come to realise that the reality runs far deeper than that.

Returning Home

I have just returned from two amazing weeks in Guatemala — a small and beautiful country in Central America — where I spent time with my son, daughter-in-law, and my newly born grandson.

And I can say with complete honesty that when you are holding, soothing and marvelling over your very own (and very first!) grandbaby, the rest of the world quietly falls away. Even my paints, for a little while, lost their place of importance.

Since boarding the plane back to South Africa, however, a deep ache of sadness has settled over me like an unwelcome shawl of grief. It has lingered heavily and stubbornly across my heart, refusing to budge.

Returning to the Studio

Perhaps that is what compelled me to write this today.

Because when I arrived at my studio this morning, I knew instinctively that I needed to return to creating. There was no dramatic revelation. No sudden clarity. Only the quiet knowing that my soul needed the language of colour and brushstroke once again.

As I sat down at my desk, one of my journals lay open to a passage that felt almost providential in its timing - words that comforted and steadied me in exactly the way I needed. They are taken from Walking in This World by Julia Cameron:

"Our true nature is creative. Yes, using our creativity is therapeutic but that is not because we need to be fixed. What’s inside us is not all nasty and horrid and terrifying, not all shame and secrets and neurosis.

Our inner world is a complex, exquisite and powerful play of colours, lights and shadows, a cathedral of consciousness as glorious as the natural world itself.

 This inner wealth is what the artist expresses.

The Great Creator lives within each of us. All of us contain a divine, expressive spark and creative candle intended to light our path and that of our fellows.

The human being, by definition, is a creative being.

We are intended to make things and ‘to make something of ourselves.’

When we lose interest in ourselves and our lives, when we tell ourselves that our dreams don’t matter or that they are impossible, we are denying our spiritual heritage.

When we do this, we become depressed and drained, even physically ill.

Creativity is medicine.

It is not dangerous or egotistical.

It is life-affirming and essential.

The more we use it, the more steadily and readily and easily we use it.

The more we ground it and regularly access it, the better off we are.

The ‘healthier’ we are.

We feel different after making something.”

 Creativity as Medicine

Those words reminded me that creativity is not merely a pastime or profession. It is often a returning — a way back to ourselves when life has left us tender, weary or heartsore.

To create is not only to produce something beautiful; it is to participate in healing, hope and restoration. It is to remember that even grief and longing can be transformed into something transcendent and beautiful.

And so perhaps it makes perfect sense after all that I am less grumpy after spending time at my easel.

Not because painting fixes everything.

But because creating reconnects me to life itself.