The Importance of Making Space

Yesterday I left my desk and studio behind and headed to Dunwich Beach with my sketchbook.

The emails could wait.

The website could wait.

The to-do list would still be there tomorrow.

For a few hours, all that mattered was the sea, the changing light, a handful of paints and the freedom to experiment.

I didn't set out to create a masterpiece.

In fact, some of the sketches weren't particularly good at all.

But that wasn't the point.

One of the things I love most about sketching outdoors is that nature becomes part of the process.

Yesterday I found myself dipping wet paint into the sea, allowing the saltwater to wash across the paper before it dried. Sand became trapped in the paint. Colours separated into beautiful granulations that I could never have predicted. Some experiments worked brilliantly. Others didn't.

Every single one taught me something.

It reminded me that creativity isn't always about producing something worthy of framing.

Sometimes it's simply about being curious enough to ask, "I wonder what would happen if…?"

When did we become so afraid of experimenting?

So much of modern life encourages us to be productive. We answer emails while making coffee. We reply to messages while watching television. We feel guilty if we're not ticking something off a list.

Even our hobbies can become another thing we're trying to be good at.

Yesterday felt wonderfully different.

There was no expectation.

No deadline.

No audience.

Just the joy of noticing.

The colour of seaweed drying on the shore.

The patterns left by the tide.

The way one pigment behaved completely differently when it met seawater instead of clean water.

Those tiny observations are easy to miss when our minds are racing ahead to the next task.

Ironically, after spending a few hours doing something that looked completely unproductive, I came home feeling more motivated than I have for days.

My head felt clearer.

Ideas started appearing again.

I wanted to paint.

I wanted to write.

I wanted to create.

It made me realise that perhaps rest isn't the opposite of productivity at all. Perhaps it's what allows it to happen.

We're living through an extraordinary time. Technology, including AI, is helping us work faster, answer questions instantly and achieve more than ever before.

I use those tools myself, and I'm incredibly grateful for them.

But they can never replace the feeling of sitting beside the sea with a friend, sharing ideas while the tide comes in.

They can't replace noticing the call of a gull overhead, the smell of salt in the air or the excitement of watching paint do something completely unexpected.

They can't replace genuine conversations or shared experiences.

Those are the moments that remind us we're human.

Those are the moments that fill us back up.

I think that's one of the reasons I love teaching art.

Yes, people learn techniques.

Yes, they leave with paintings they're proud of.

But what I really hope they take home is permission.

Permission to slow down.

Permission to play.

Permission to experiment without worrying whether the result is perfect.

Because creativity isn't reserved for artists.

It's a way of approaching life with curiosity instead of judgement.

So this week, I'd encourage you to make a little space.

It doesn't have to be a trip to the coast.

It might be a walk through your local woods, tending the garden, baking a cake, reading beneath a tree or simply sitting with someone you love and having a proper conversation without checking your phone.

Whatever it is, give yourself permission to be fully present.

You only get one life.

The emails will still be there tomorrow.

But the tide, the light, the birdsong and the conversations that make up an ordinary day are constantly changing.

Don't miss them while you're busy trying to keep up.

Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is simply stop, look around and remember what it feels like to be curious again.