Why Do I Bother? The Highs and Lows of a Creative Burst
Creativity often comes in waves. For some of us, these waves are less like gentle tides and more like tsunamis—unpredictable, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been swept up in one of those tsunamis: a creative burst that has consumed my thoughts, my time, and my energy. After months of struggling to make time for creative pursuits, it’s as if all the pent-up ideas stored in my mind finally erupted, spilling out into my hands and onto every medium I could find.
The Build-Up to the Burst
This creative explosion isn’t new to me. It’s a pattern I’ve come to recognize and, at times, expect. When life gets too busy or responsibilities take over, the creative energy doesn’t disappear—it just simmers beneath the surface, quietly building pressure. When the right moment finally arrives, it bursts forth with a sense of urgency, as if all those unmade projects have been waiting for their moment to exist.
This time, the wave carried me to a project I’d been meaning to tackle for years: hanging ornaments. These aren’t holiday-specific trinkets; they’re versatile, mixed-media pieces designed to bring beauty to any space. For years, I’d had the materials ready to go—since before we even left Toronto for Owen Sound—but they’d sat untouched, waiting for the right moment. After a successful weekend at the Six in the City pop-up shop at Heritage Place Mall, I decided it was finally time. I dove in, blending materials and techniques, letting my hands guide the process without overthinking it.
It felt liberating. I didn’t force holiday themes; instead, I trusted my instincts, creating pieces that spoke to me in the moment. Alongside the ornaments, I also explored something new: wearable art, inspired by the brilliant Cathey Lee of Gratitude Studios. I spent hours curating collections, revisiting forgotten artwork and photography, and imagining them as garments. It was a labor of love—one that reminded me of the joy and potential of transforming art into something functional and wearable.
The Creative High
When you’re in the thick of a creative spree, it’s like nothing else in the world exists. Time becomes irrelevant. Meals are forgotten. Chores pile up. It’s an almost euphoric state, one where you’re fully immersed in the act of creation. For artists, this headspace is addictive. There’s no greater feeling than the flow of ideas, the satisfaction of bringing them to life, and the sense of purpose that comes with it.
But like any high, it doesn’t last forever.
The Crash
As the projects wind down, the inevitable crash sets in. The thrill of creating is replaced by an empty void, a darkness that feels all-consuming. The mind, once so full of ideas and momentum, becomes a breeding ground for doubt and self-criticism:
Why do I bother making art?
Is this really art, or just meaningless stuff?
Does it matter to anyone besides me?
Who even wants this?
Does any of this matter?
These questions don’t just linger—they gnaw at you. The end of a creative spree can feel like hitting a wall, and the greater the high, the harder the fall. What’s worse is the return to reality: the laundry you ignored, the meals you skipped, the deadlines you pushed aside. All of it looms, demanding your attention.
And then there’s the financial reality. The kind of work that pays the bills—the kind that keeps a roof over your head and food on the table—doesn’t always align with creative pursuits. In today’s world, where automation and AI are reshaping industries, even this type of work feels uncertain. It adds another layer of anxiety to an already heavy mental load.
Why Do We Bother?
So, why do we bother? Why do we keep creating, knowing full well that these crashes will follow? For me, the answer lies in the moments of joy and purpose that creativity brings. Even if the final product doesn’t resonate with others, the act of making something—of turning an idea into reality—is deeply fulfilling. It’s a reminder that we’re capable of bringing beauty into the world, even in small ways.
Creativity is a form of self-expression, a way of processing emotions and experiences. It’s not always about the end result; sometimes, it’s simply about the process. And while the crashes are difficult, they’re a small price to pay for the moments of clarity and connection that come with creating.
Moving Forward
As I near the end of this creative burst, I’m trying to be kinder to myself. The doubts and questions may never fully go away, but they don’t have to define my creative journey. I’ve learned to embrace the ebbs and flows, to trust that the next wave of inspiration will come when it’s ready.
And in the meantime, I’ll take small steps to keep the momentum going. Maybe I’ll finish a few more ornaments or revisit the wearable art collections. Or maybe I’ll take a break, give myself time to recharge, and remind myself that it’s okay to rest. Creativity isn’t a race—it’s a lifelong journey, full of highs and lows, crashes and recoveries.
For those of us who feel deeply and create passionately, the question “Why do I bother?” is one we’ll probably ask ourselves many times. But the answer, I think, is simple: because we can’t not create. It’s who we are. It’s what we do. And in the end, that’s enough.