When the Paint Dried Up: How Artist Block Led Me Back to Nature

There was a moment in my practice when acrylics simply stopped working for me. The paint felt lifeless, and I found myself going through the motions without joy or curiosity. What once felt expansive started to feel like a chore. I was facing more than just a creative block—I was confronting a deeper disconnect between what I was using and how I wanted to feel in the studio.

So I stopped.

I put down the brushes, stepped away from the pressure to “make,” and let myself sit in the discomfort of not knowing what was next. And in that pause, something surprising happened: I started paying attention to the materials around me—the fabrics I had tucked away, the beeswax I’d been curious about, the textures and rhythms of the natural world outside my window.

That’s when I found encaustic.

Working with beeswax was like a homecoming. It’s tactile, fragrant, and responsive—it invites slowness and presence. The process of melting and layering felt meditative, grounded. I began pairing it with salvaged fabrics: worn linen, cotton, and fragments of fabrics from friends and relatives. These materials felt more alive than any tube of paint. They carried memory, history, and warmth.

Beeswax—especially sourced locally from the Hudson Valley—became my new medium of connection. It bonded fibers, preserved fragility, and gave weight to the ephemeral. With each piece, I felt closer to the land, to my lineage, and to the kind of art I wanted to make—work that breathes, that listens, that speaks softly but with intention.

Now, my studio practice is rooted in natural and reclaimed materials. I work intuitively, honoring the rhythm of the seasons rather than the pressure to produce. Each artwork becomes a quiet collaboration—with nature, memory, and the unseen stories held in thread and cloth.

That season of artist block wasn’t an ending—it was a new beginning, one that led me toward a slower, more intentional way of creating.

Sometimes, we have to let something go to find what truly wants to emerge. For me, that meant stepping away from synthetic materials and toward something more grounded, more alive. And in doing so, I found not just a new medium—but a new way of being in the studio.

If you’ve been curious about working with botanicals and wax but aren’t sure where to start, I’ve created something just for you. My free Bloom & Wax Material Guide walks you through my favorite tools and materials—from beeswax to botanicals—so you can begin your own intuitive encaustic journey with confidence.