Going With the Flow: Resin, Random Projects & Why I Refuse to Stick to One Thing

Some days I sit down with a clear plan.
Most days? Not so much.

This photo is a perfect example of what my studio table looks like when I’m just… going with the flow. There’s a big circular resin piece full of swirling colour and dried petals, a little rectangular one packed with deep red flower bits, a tiny purple square with soft hydrangea blooms, a sparkly pink crescent moon with a face, and a few other half-finished experiments hanging around the edges. None of them were made on the same day. None of them followed the same “recipe.” And that’s exactly how I like it.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to do the same kind of art every single day. In fact, I work better when I don’t. One afternoon I’m pouring a big coaster-style piece and watching the colours swirl. The next day I might be obsessing over a tiny moon charm or carefully placing dried flowers into a small square. Then suddenly I’m eyeing some new silicone mold or a bag of glitter I “needed” and the cycle starts all over again.

If I’m being honest, I’ve developed a bit of an addiction to acquiring other art creation pieces and supplies. A new mold here, a different pigment there, a pack of dried flowers I couldn’t walk past… it adds up fast. But instead of feeling guilty about it, I’ve started treating it as part of the process. Every new little item is just another invitation to try something different.

That’s the real “how-to” I want to share today:

How to create without forcing yourself into a rigid routine

1. Let the mood decide the project.
   Feel like big and bold? Make a larger pour. Feel quiet and detailed? Work on tiny charms. There’s no rule that says you have to finish one series before starting another.
2. Keep a few different things going at once.
   Having unfinished pieces sitting around isn’t failure — it’s fuel. Looking at them often sparks the next idea.
3. Embrace the “ooh shiny” moments.
   Yes, collecting new art supplies and molds can get out of hand. But that curiosity is also what keeps the work feeling fresh. (Just maybe don’t buy three of the same mold in one week like someone I know…)
4. Photograph the mess.
   Even if the photo isn’t perfect (this one definitely isn’t), capture the stage you’re in. It becomes a reminder that creativity doesn’t always look neat and finished.

I used to think I needed to pick one style and master it. Now I realize bouncing between projects is its own skill — and one that keeps me excited to show up at the table.

So if your creative life looks a little scattered right now, with half-finished resin pieces, random molds, and a growing pile of “just in case” supplies… you’re not doing it wrong. You’re just going with the flow.

And honestly? That’s where the best stuff seems to happen.

 

Why Some People Simply Love to Make Art

 

The Joy of Creating: Why Some People Simply Love to Make Art – No Audience Required In a world full of pressure to perform, share, and perfect, there's something quietly revolutionary about sitting down with a gel pen and a colouring book page featuring a majestic dragon. No deadlines, no likes needed—just you, the page, and the slow, satisfying glide of ink across intricate scales and wings. Creating isn't always about producing something "valuable" in the eyes of others. For many, the deepest pull comes from the act itself. When you pick up those vibrant gel pens—perhaps layering shimmering blues over deep greens for iridescent dragon hide or adding white highlights to make flames pop—the mind quiets. The repetitive motion of colouring detailed lines, like the swirling mane or fierce eyes of a dragon, draws you into a meditative flow. Research on adult colouring, especially intricate designs like mandalas or fantasy creatures, shows it reduces anxiety, lowers stress, and promotes mindfulness by anchoring attention in the present moment. It's a gentle way to hush the inner critic and let the brain breathe. What makes it even more powerful is the freedom from perfection. Some folks chase flawless results, turning creation into a chore that drains rather than energizes. But when creating is viewed as pure expression—not a task to master—magic happens. The dragon doesn't have to be gallery-ready; its scales can shimmer unevenly, its flames might blend in unexpected ways. That's okay. In fact, that's the point. The satisfaction comes from the process: watching colours build, feeling the texture of gel ink dry glossy and bright, seeing the page transform under your hand. It pleases the one person who matters in that moment—you. This personal joy explains why so many return to colouring books, sketchpads, or any medium that lets them play without judgment. It's not about impressing an audience or proving skill; it's about reclaiming a simple, human need to make something beautiful (or fierce, or whimsical) just because it feels good. So next time you see a time-lapse of gel pens bringing a dragon to life, remember: behind every stroke is someone choosing joy over obligation. And that's a kind of art worth celebrating.