When does play become painting?
I get asked a version of this question all the time: “When do you stop playing and start making real paintings?”
And the honest answer is: I don’t
There isn’t a moment when I stop being playful and suddenly become “serious.” There’s no switch that flips in my mind where I declare, “Okay, now it’s time to make proper art."
For me, the play is the painting and the painting is the play. Everything I do flows into everything else, and it all just becomes part of my creative life.
I think some people assume that play happens in sketchbooks or on loose sheets of paper, and that painting happens later — on canvas, when I’m focused and intentional. But that’s not my experience at all.
I don’t shift gears — I stay in the same creative current.
The marks I make in my sketchbooks, the collage experiments, the colour swatches are not “preparation.” They are the practice. They’re made with the same energy, the same curiosity, and the same hand that shows up when I stand in front of a canvas.
But I think it goes even further than that. My painting doesn’t begin or end in the studio.
It’s in:
the way I notice the sky changing colour on my morning walk
the conversations that spark something unexpected
the journal entries I make each day
the books I read about other artists
In other words, I don’t turn my creativity on and off. I don’t move from “life” to “art-making.” I live as an artist — which means painting is always happening, whether or not a brush is in my hand. My creativity isn’t an activity — it’s a way of being. The more I let myself move fluidly between sketching, journaling, painting, noticing, resting, moving, reading, wandering… the richer my work becomes.
And that’s why I never draw a line between “just playing” and “making paintings.”
The play becomes the paintings. The paintings emerge out of the play. There’s no dividing wall — just one continuous, breathing, shifting process.
So if you’re wondering when to get serious, my invitation is this: Don’t.
Stay playful. Stay curious. Let your sketchbook flow into your canvas. Let your life flow into your art. Let your ideas mingle and blur and cross-pollinate. Listen to your creative urges and follow them. If you feel like working in a sketchbook, do that. If you feel like just playing with colour, do that. If you want to attack a large canvas, go for it!
Creativity doesn’t need compartments — it needs space.
And when we let ourselves live as artists, our paintings start to appear naturally, almost effortlessly, as the next step in the ongoing, unfolding conversation we’re having with the world. It's kind of magical :)