On February 27th, 2022, I scribbled the above out in my Wordless Diary and then wrote the following in a separate notebook for a later analysis:

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“Can intuitive art be representational?”

This is a question I used to ask myself a little too much. As someone who likes her art to look like something, this question has both inspired and broke me.

Still, it’s a question I think that most of us scribblers have asked ourselves before. And, if it were one of my students asking me, my answer would be a loud and bright “heck yeah!” but I’ve never been known to give myself the same grace as my students.

At least, not until recently, when I decided limits were lame. Is it intuitive enough? Ugh, it sounds like something the purists from the Surrealist era might ask.

So, let’s chat about why I think intuitive art, no matter how scribbly, could totally be representational.

What Does Representational Mean?

First, I suppose we should define three different key words: representational, non-representational, and abstract.

Representational art is art that has a recognizable subject. If you know what it is, or it at least looks like a landscape, it would be representational.

Non-representational art is often confused with abstract art. This type of art has no recognizable subject. Art in this category is usually a collection of shapes, lines, colors, and marks. An example would be this painting by Wassily Kandinsky

Now, while all non-representational art is abstract, not all abstract art is non-representational.

Abstract art is often based on real life objects, but these objects are skewed, bent, stretched, restacked into shapes, and more. The point of abstract art is to, much like with non-representational art, use shapes and colors to tell the story instead of the subject matter. Most people when they think of abstract, they think of Picasso, and there’s a reason for that. But even his most abstract works tended to look like something.

Now that we’ve defined those three key words, we can ask ourselves this question: can intuitive art be representational? Can I draw a picture of a cat and say it was intuitive art? Maybe not. But can I create an intuitive scribble that has a cat in it?

Again, heck yeah!

Doesn’t All Art Use Intuition?

Yes. Yes it does. A nature photographer requires intuition to “feel” when a good shot is imminent. A painter requires intuition to “feel” purple is right color for the job. A scribbler like yourself requires intuition to “feel” when a particular doodle is done.

But I mean…unplanned grocery shopping requires a bit of intuition as well, but does that make it art?

So, it’s important to define what I mean when I say “intuitive art.” This is the art that is, from start to finish, that is entirely improvised. It’s meditative art, zendoodle/zentangle, automatic drawing, asemic writing, and more. This is art that is meant to represent our feelings hidden deep in that unconscious mind.

There are probably still purists around today who completely scoff at artists who work intuitively up until the last 10% of the piece or so before switching their brain back on to utilize those pesky principles of design, but I personally believe that intuitive art is a spectrum.

Think of it like a slider bar. Not the burger kind, but the kind you might have made in grade school with the little figure that moves right or left to show a percentage. Each time you finish an intuitive scribble, imagine moving that figure (for me, right now, it’s definitely a bumblebee) to the right until you reach a percentage to match how much of your piece was created solely through improvisation and intuition. Anything above 50% I would say fits into the “intuitive art” category. Anything less is definitely art that was more thought over feeling (which is okay too!).

And now we will ask the question once again: can intuitive art be representational?

Creating Representational Intuitive Art

There are a few ways I go about creating intuitive art when I’m in a more illustrative everything-has-to-look-like-something mood.

Adding figurative shapes to otherwise scribbly art: with this method, I will draw out my “thread” and then start adding to it with all kinds of figurative shapes like leaves and trees.

Turning my scribble into a landscape: This method allows me to maintain a meditative and thoughtless process while still drawing something that ends up making sense to both myself and my viewer.

Scribble for about 75% of the piece, then decide what to turn it into: This has turned into some pretty fun art, like the piece above. I’m never quite sure what the piece is about until it’s nearly finished. It’s like the subject gets to tell its own story.

Drawing my figurative shape(s) first, then going full scribble: You may have seen those Zendoodle drawings that make the shape of an animal. This is one way to do this, but I sometimes take it a step further and draw an entire scene, then turn off my brain and go full scribble/doodle. This is often the most relaxing out of these three options, as I already have my “playground” built. The only thing left is to actually play.

What do you think? Can intuitive art be representational? Or…an even scarier question: should it?

Happy Scribbling!

These past few weeks have been long, strenuous, and exhausting. But in a good way. Daily meetings, classroom cleaning, curriculum writing, it all means one thing: the new school year has been right around the corner.

Now, as of today, it’s officially here. I’ll be back to teaching art to high schoolers tomorrow. It almost feels like summer just began, almost feels like summer started ages ago. Either way, I’m excited to get back into the swing of things, excited to see my students, excited to teach.

Despite my excitement on the teacher side of things, however, my mood regarding my own artistic career has been a bit off. It wasn’t necessarily an existential crisis. More of a need to revisit my “why.” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Andy J. Pizza’s tip to “get high off your own supply” when it comes to your own work. Meaning, if you make wall art, you should hang some of it up in your house. If you make stickers, you should use them. If you make T-Shirts, you should wear them. This is apparently one of the keys to creating art that is meaningful to you and reflects who you are. I mean, if you don’t want to hang it up in your house, is it even honest?

Funny thing is my own art has never been something I would use for myself. I always assumed that, once the artwork was complete, it no longer belonged to me but to the rest of the world. And for the past eight years of my art career I’ve figured that was enough.

It’s not.

I should interject here and say I do have a few art pieces hanging in my home that I created, but these are very near and dear to my heart. There is the painting I made after my beloved canary, Apple, passed away. There is the intuitive oil painting I made of flowers that my Grammy loved. There are photographs I’ve taken of my family and of places I’ve been. These are the pieces that should stand out like beacons when I’m searching for my why.

“Get high off your own supply.” It has been replaying in my head for over a month now. What makes my art special? What do I want the world to gain from my art? Why is my art important? Why won’t I hang anything I create—even if I really like it—on my walls?

The Research Begins…Again

I think a lot of people think artists spend all day painting. That’s ridiculous. A lot of our time is dedicated to researching, rethinking, revising, finding new ways to evolve our original view of the world, finding new artists to inspire us, to move us further toward understanding ourselves.

Lately, I’ve been researching a lot of the masters. I wanted to know what their “why” was. Was any of it l’art pour l’art (art for art’s sake?) or did they all have a specific momentum that pushed them forward from piece to piece?

Van Gogh’s why was to comfort humanity (and himself).

Matisse’s why was to use color to emit joy.

Picasso’s why was to break all the rules.

Georgia O’Keefe wanted us to touch grass.

Knowing their whys, I then asked myself: would these artists have gotten “high off their own supply?” Would Van Gogh have hung “Starry Night” in his room at the asylum? Would Picasso have hung “The Old Guitarist” in his den? Did Seurat have a smaller copy of “A Sunday on the Island of La Grande Jatte in his living room?”

A question I’m still mulling over as I type this.

Understanding My Own Tastes

Another thing that comes up a lot in podcasts and blogs is the word “taste.” You have to know what you like in order to know what to create. For me, it was never about the what but the how. The what just appeared as the process unfolded. Though I used to think that made it more honest, today I think that mentality is flawed.

Which could be why I like to hop between drawing fun little illustrations of bunnies and full on non-representational scribbles. It’s like my brain is trying to merge the what and the how and the why without me really understanding how it all should fit together until I wind up with four different Instagram profiles.

When that phrase “get high off your own supply” started to replay in my brain, I began to really think about my own tastes. Sure, I can say I like a work of art. I can say it’s beautiful. That it’s aesthetically pleasing. But if I were any one of my students, I would force them to dig deeper than that. I would tell them their response of “it looks cool” is not enough to fully grasp the reason they’re drawn to a piece.

I think I realized my own shortcomings while revamping my entire curriculum a few weeks ago. Somewhere along the lines I had just decided that “I like it” was enough, when it most definitely is not. I was just clicking like and sharing without thought. I’d become a freaking algorithm.

So, I decided to hit the refresh button on everything I thought about my own taste. I created a brand-new Pinterest board called “Would Hang in My Home” and I went through every. single. one. of my boards that contained a collection of artworks. From watercolors to oils to black and white works to even photography. Instead of just pinning like crazy, I looked at each piece that caught my eye and tried to picture it on my wall. I asked myself why I liked it. I forced myself to give a thoughtful answer.

Out of thousands of pins…I chose fourteen pieces.

Fourteen.

Looking at these fourteen works together, I could see right away what they had in common. They were pretty minimalist, mostly monochromatic (not necessarily black and white, but tints/tones/shades of the same color). Most had something involved with nature, and if it didn’t, it was related to a personal story. They’re all also very expressive, painterly, reminiscent of human handiwork and flaws. Scribbly, abstract, but all somewhat representational.

Toward the very end of my search I came across a still-life by Laci Fowler. It’s a painterly piece of a vase with flowers. You can see her expression in the way she carved patterns into the paint, scribbled out the colors, paid less attention to the details of the flowers and more attention to the feel of the flowers.

The muse hit me hard.

Immediately I wanted to draw. I wanted to scribble my brains out. I wanted to scratch out a scribbly still-life of my own with flowers and a fun vase I could create with intuitive patterns. Could I hang her painting in my house? Hell yes I could. Even if it were ten feet long. And because of this, I wanted to make my own scribbly still-lifes that I would hang in my home.

Scribbling My Way to a Why

Since then, I’ve been scribbling and scratching and doodling out various vases with flowers. I have been using mostly dry media (pastels, graphite, colored pencils) and have been working mostly from my own head instead of using a reference (though I have done that too).

The taste is simple: painterly, sketchy, human hands, flawed, patterns, intuition, and playfulness. Flowers in a vase is also very Van Gogh with his sunflower paintings, which I devour constantly, making me feel even closer to my spirit animal each time I work.

The why is even simpler: art is play. I’m a big child.

And why scribble out still-lifes of flower vases when it’s one of the most cliche things artists draw? Because life is play, and you are a big child, too.

Right now it’s still-lifes. Tomorrow it could be something entirely different. Regardless, I will continue to work on building my taste into something I can back with strong reasoning. I think, then, I’ll be able to start “getting high off my own supply.”

Until next time, may your flowers be scribbly and your tastes be fulfilled,

And only one of them has anything to do with art!

Creative funks are something we ALLLLL experience, even those of you who feel like you aren’t very creative. Everyone is creative in some way, which means everyone can experience creative funk.

What is creative funk?

It’s that mucky feeling you get when you sit down to create and you either groan internally about how much you don’t want to do this (cue: burnout) AND/OR absolutely no new ideas come to you.

This is often an unnerving experience, as it can trigger a lot of bad feelings toward oneself and his/her creative mind. Does this mean you’ve used up all of your ideas? Are you a fraud? Is art just not fun for you anymore (and probably will never be again?)?

No. Chances are you just need....a break.

I know how much you hate that word, because I hate it too. When someone tells me it’s time for a break I want to push through even harder and scream “Don’t tell me what to do!” like Bakugo Katsuki. But that definitely will and has led to burnout and has led to me taking much longer than a week or so to let the mud settle.

So I decided to put together a list of five exercises (some of them actually exercises to help you climb out of the swamps of sadness creative funk.

Exercise One: Go for a walk

I’m not kidding. Sometimes just a single walk (yes, outdoors) is all your brain needs to push a restart. Just being outdoors, getting some vitamin D, maybe feeling the wind in your hair and hearing the birds in the trees is a special kind of therapy we should all partake in more often.

Better yet, being surrounded by a new environment is often the best way to come up with new ideas for your creations.

Exercise Two: Try Something New

Is there a new restaurant in town you’ve been curious about? Have you always wondered what Cherry Garcia ice cream tastes like? As I said above (and will probably keep saying throughout this entire blog post) new perspectives are often the seeds of new ideas.

Who knows? When you try that Cherry Garcia it might spark a whole string of new cherry-toned artworks with fluffy clouds of cream.

Exercise Three: Visit a Friend or a Family Member

You’d be amazed at how much this can help, especially if it’s a friend who shares your love of art and creating. This is the perfect opportunity to chat not only art, but to also chat about completely unrelated things. As you take in this new info and give forth info of your own, you’re likely to feel a bit rejuvenated (albeit, a little mentally sleepy if you’re introverted like me).

Introverted or not, humans need social interaction. Studies have shown people with a community--even a small one--live longer than people who do not. It’s science! Now go call your mom.

Exercise Four: Get Hooked on a New Show

This might seem counterproductive, and that’s because it is, and that’s kind of the point. Getting hooked on a new show will give your brain time to rest, while also giving it some new information/viewpoints/perspectives/entertainment/etc.

It will also take your mind off those looming empty canvases and will give you something you can enjoy outside of creating. Once you return to your studio, you may have brand-new ideas stirred up by either the short break, the interesting show, or both!]

Exercise Five: Try a New Creative Medium

This is the only one that really has anything to do with art. Maybe your issue is you’ve been doing too much of the same and need something fresh to play around with. I’m not saying throw away the watercolors and revamp your entire studio to support only ceramic work. I’m just saying maybe take a pottery wheel class or pick up a camera that uses instant film.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and once your watercolors have been put away for a while so you can play with your new toys, you might find your mind yearning to splash around. That, and you’ll come back with extra tools in your belt.

When the creative funk hits, it’s hard not to feel more pressure to create. Don’t fall into that trap! Instead, take that break, but make it fun. Enjoy yourself. That way, when it’s time to take a break again, you won’t be so wary to go for it.

Happy Scribbling!

-Lina

I Live for Color

I love colors. Colorful everything. Colorful clothes, shoes, earrings, home decor, and art. Color color color. Even my personality is pretty colorful, that “hear her before you see her” kind of ambience I tend to bring to any building.

But when I attempt to add color to my own art? It feels like a lie. My work is often “ruined” by color (as per my own critique) and I have a tendency to get frustrated and move on to something else that doesn’t “require” color, like my photography.

It’s a cycle. And I’m over it.

The Restriction to Color

“Who told you art had to ‘require’ color?” you might ask…

No idea. Somewhere in my past there’s a person saying “you should color this in” or “hey, you’re off to a great start!” when I show them a finished piece. But I just lose connection with the entire project when I add color. My piece goes from ooh to meh with one splash of paint or one scribble of colored pencil.

To me, bold black and white patterns and inked-in marks can be just as vibrant as any rainbow. They’re honest, raw, vulnerable, little blocks and blobs of value adding contrast to the world. Yet they sit framed on a gallery wall, waiting to being called a “coloring page” as if that’s the only way to make them useful to society.

It sounds a lot like how the neurodivergent feel (myself included). Andy J. Pizza did a whole podcast series called “Right-Side Out” in which he discussed how we neurodivergent people are often wearing ourselves inside-out in order to fit in with society. And how, after a while of doing this, we might start to forget who we were in the first place.

That’s my black and white art. My poor hatches and tear-drop shapes and circles and lines. They were never meant to be colored in.

Artists Who Have Saved Me (and my art)

A few months ago at the tail end of spring and dawn of summer, my family and I drove the ten hours to Cedar Point in Ohio, USA. On our way there, we stopped at a Starbucks (somewhere in Indianapolis I believe). The inside was your standard Starbucks with dim lighting and cozy chairs, but at the entryway was a huge abstract painting of a black and white mermaid with all kinds of patterns and shapes all around her. It looked like something I would die to say I drew myself.

I remember thinking the artist who drew it was so brave to not add color. To turn in a piece that many people would think was “unfinished” simply because they didn’t add green or something. I immediately told both my husband and daughter how the painting made me feel, how I wished I’d brought my iPad so I could draw big shapes and patterns because that was suddenly all I wanted to do. It was the first time in a long time I’d been inspired so deeply to create. To this day I still haven’t been able to find the artist, and it hasn’t been for lack of trying.

Another artist who has saved me was one I actually discovered this morning, whose work inspired me to write this post. That artist is Gabriele Bruns, a German artist who considers herself part of the Art Brut movement. When I saw her black and white art, I realized that she had been brave. She had dared to be herself in her art and now she was ten steps ahead of me, showing in big galleries and being all awesome. My admiration for her work actually annoyed me with myself. After all, how can I claim to be an intuitive and “free spirited” scribbler if I restrict myself with “rules” and “laws” that I don’t actually believe.

Despite the frustration, another artist who has saved me has actually been past Lina Forrester. Looking through old sketchbooks yesterday brought me to some black and white artworks that I really enjoyed making but stopped because they looked too much like “coloring pages.” I tossed the ideas aside back then, but today I’ve decided to fully embrace this fun style that always seemed so meditative and freeing for me. Not to mention it’s fun to see little worlds or creatures take shape in the…erm…shapes.

And to be honest, creating art that can also be printed as a coloring page actually sounds kind of awesome.

This morning’s Wordless Diary scribble seems to agree:

Moral of the Story:

So I guess the moral of the story here is the same lesson I’ve had to re-learn over and over again: stop restricting yourself. If you want to work only in blue, then work only in blue. If you want to use every color of the rainbow, then do that. If you’re only comfortable making tiny art, stop trying to go larger.

Stop. Restricting. Your. Creative. Process.

Or, better yet, stop trying to fit your creative process into the same box you feel like everyone else uses. Stop it. Everyone’s box is shaped differently. Yours included.

What will you be brave enough to create today?

The Wordless Diary started for me several years ago when I started to create a series of improvised watercolor paintings. These were my first true immersion into the intuitive art life, and were also a great form of meditation for me. I called the series Wordless Diary because I felt they were the most honest representation of my thoughts/feelings and yet there were no words to express said feelings/thoughts.

Today, the Wordless Diary has evolved into a mostly-daily practice of scribbling in a specific sketchbook dedicated solely to this technique. I use these scribbles as a guide to self-awareness, and are especially helpful when my thoughts and/or emotions are a muddy puddle.

I always have my intuitive art students begin their practice with this tool because it’s a great way to start a daily scribble habit. Not only does it get them drawing every day, which eventually takes all the fear out of the process, but it’s often fascinating to my students when they find meaning in their scribbles, and that just motivates them even more to keep going.

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We all were there, once, frolicking across grassy lawns, climbing trees and digging up bugs. I tell my daughter that I was a feral child, living off nothing but mulberries and hose water. Most of us can relate to the notion that a child’s mentality is a bit more magical, a bit more la vie en rose. We lose that magic eventually, masked over by things like perfectionism and employee reviews. This is why I believe helping my adult students reconnect to their inner child is so important to the scribble process. After all, how can we be brave enough to make a nonsensical mess if we’re paralyzed by adulthood?

The good news is, there are tons of ways to bring your inner child back to the surface so that you can play with all of the art supplies your heart desires, brushing off the horrifying fear that you may not actually make anything at all. To a child, it’s less about what they make, and more about how much fun they’re having. Let’s get back into that mindset!

Play

There are a lot of ways to play. I’m going to categorize them into two categories: play like an adult and play like a child. This will allow you to mix and match depending on your day and your needs. I do encourage you to try things from both categories.

Play Like an Adult

These are things that you can do while being forced to adult. Just because you’re a grownup now doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy yourself.

• Dance to your favorite songs while cleaning the house (because cleaning suuuuucks but it has to be done. Might as well have fun while we’re at it--and maybe even get a workout in).

• Take the more scenic route to work--bonus points if you also blast your music and sing really loud

• Have a sprinkly donut for breakfast. Because screw that diet. We’re celebrating life.

• Wear colorful clothes. Put something super vibrant on, even if it’s just a pop of color. Express yourself with accessories: dangly earrings, a flashy watch, a bright yellow pair of Converse shoes. Color is so much fun! We should really take advantage of that.

• Time for the gym? Why not try a more exciting activity that isn’t another boring treadmill run with the news in front of your face. Instead, head to the basketball court with a friend, swim some laps in the pool, or join a free class with your bestie and socialize as you work out.

Play Like a Child

These are things you did as a child but stopped once it became “weird” to your friends. While you can do these things alone, I encourage you to invite one--or several--adult friends to join in. You can also do this with your own kids, your nieces/nephews, your grandchildren, etc.

• Sidewalk chalk--have any of us ever really outgrown this? We have a yearly sidewalk chalk competition in our city and it’s so much fun.

• Blow bubbles--remember these? It’s weird how many memories come flooding back to you once you smell that soapy solution. How big of a bubble can you blow? How many can you blow with one breath?

• Build with LEGOs--honestly, this doesn’t seem that weird to me when grownups do it. Lots of people still play with LEGOs once they pass the socially constructed deadline.

• Jump on the trampoline--does your kiddo have one of these? Are you taking your kids to the nearby trampoline park? Give it a whirl! It’s weird for those of us who have gone through childbirth, but it’s still fun for about five minutes.

• Fly a kite! My husband used to take our daughter out to do this when it got really windy out. Fresh air, sunshine, and a colorful kite in the air? How could it get any more carefree?

• Go on an outdoor adventure--this can be both a grownup and a child activity. Just getting out in nature, maybe exploring off path a bit, finding rocks and cool leaves, can do wonders for your mental health.

Rekindle a Childhood Hobby

We all had a hobby--or a million hobbies--as kids. Then we decided that we didn’t have time for hobbies anymore and our lives went from technicolor to shades of gray. Don’t do this to yourself anymore! It’s time to resume some of these hobbies we loved as kids.

It is worth noting here that you should always be safe if doing more active things like sports. If you’re worried you might not have the physical capabilities, might check with a doctor first.

• Sports: were you a big sporty kid? There are lots of adult sports out there that you can join either through your local gym or just with a group of friends. Pickleball is apparently really big right now. We have a huge frisbee golf area near our house. Just don’t do golf--unless it’s mini golf--choose something that is active, like you used to be!

• Collecting things: I remember I had an entire shelf filled with really cool rocks as a kid. In our area, we’re bound to find arrowheads and spearheads as well as bones, petrified wood, and fool’s gold. So my collection was a pretty sweet deal. I also collected stuffed animals--especially frogs. Here are some other things you can collect:

  • Hot wheels

  • Pressed flowers

  • Pokemon cards

  • Comic books

  • Vintage cameras

  • Action Figures

  • Postcards

  • Coins (Vintage coins, coins from all over the world, etc.)

  • Ticket stubs for concerts or movies

• Skateboarding: Were you a big skateboarder as a teen? A lot of people in my area practically lived at the skatepark when we were younger. Maybe it’s time to rekindle that passion and head to the local skatepark with a new--or old--board.

• Martial Arts: Did your parents put you into karate as a kid? Tons of martial arts places offer adult classes as well as classes for kids, so it might be worth checking out.

• Dance Class: Did your parents put you in dance instead of karate? Were they some of your favorite experiences? Just like the above suggestion, lots of dance studios provide classes for adults. Better yet, if you still have the skills, maybe you can teach a small class to the little dancers of the future.

• Video Games: This is a hobby I never stopped, same with my husband. Video games are a great escape from the mundane monotony that is adulthood. Instead of grading papers, I can fight Bokoblins in Hyrule. Instead of writing lesson plans, I can create a vampire Sim who marries a ghost Sim who together start a family of vampire ghost children. Were video games your thing? Did you stop because you felt like you were wasting your life? Time to pick up your kid’s Nintendo Switch and play a bit of Mario Kart.

• Musical Instruments: A lot of kids were put into piano lessons, were in band, or were forced to learn the recorder in fifth grade. If playing musical instruments was fun for you as a kid, you might find out whether there is a local orchestra/band, or pick up that guitar you haven’t dusted in a while.

• Biking: Most of us rode bikes as kids. It was our primary mode of transportation. Time for you to get back on the bicycle and ride around, even if it’s just around the neighborhood. Bonus points if you tape a card to your wheel spokes.

Write Letters to your Childhood Self

I saw this suggestion in an article while researching for this post and I loved it so much that I think I might start doing it myself.

This is especially helpful to those who may have suffered trauma or didn’t have the most ideal childhood. Writing letters to your child self could be seriously healing.

Things you can write to your child self about:

• A funny memory from your childhood

• A favorite activity you had as a child

• What your life looks like now

• Encouraging words and advice

• Affirming, empathetic conversations. Things like “I get it...”

• Things you always wanted to do as a child that you did as an adult

• Places you’ve traveled

• Your accomplishments

• A happy/comforting memory from either your childhood or adulthood

• Tell him/her a fictional story, the way you might tell a child a fun bedtime story. Make it as fantastical and magical as you like.

• Compare who you were then to who you are now

Reconnecting with your inner child is not only great for getting into that childlike “play” mindset that makes scribbling so fun, but it can also be healing and add a lot more fun and color to your life. I encourage you to give a few of these a try--especially if you have been feeling like everything has become quite predictable lately. It’s time to remind yourself that, just because you’re an adult, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.

Happy scribbling!

-Lina

From artists like JWG to Heather Day to Laura Horn, intuitive art has definitely ticked up in its popularity. Fellow scribblers such as myself yearn to know as much as we can about this art form that I hope is a trend that never fades. Not only does it allow us to tap into our inner child, giving us a reason to play, but it can also heal, soothe, and help us understand ourselves and the world around us.

What is Intuitive Art?

Intuitive art is exactly as it sounds: art that is driven by intuition. I often call it scribbling for fun, but it’s not always just a scribble. Sometimes it’s a splash, a smear, or a Jackson Pollock painting.

The main goal of intuitive art is not about the end result. It’s about the dance. Certain phrases like “trust the process” and “enjoy the process” are very important mantras when splashing artistic media with no plan.

Then there are the secondary goals of intuitive art. These goals not only vary from artist to artist but also moment to moment. What you might want out of intuitive art today could be something completely different tomorrow.

Here are few of my favorite goals of intuitive art:

• To play and have fun

• L’art pour l’art (or…art for art’s sake)

• To embrace my inner child

• To heal my inner child

• To make sense of the goings-on in the world around me

• Daily wordless diary entries

• To understand myself

• To untangle the knots in my brain

• To untangle my emotions

• To make sense of _____________

And the best part of intuitive art is that anyone can do it. You don’t need any fancy tools or papers (and I don’t recommend it). You can make do with a simple pencil and a scrap piece of paper. Just start scribbling, making shapes and marks, for no reason at all. Who knows, you may have just found your new favorite pastime.

Surrealism and the Unconscious Mind

Though Austin Osman Spare is credited with first writing about automatic art, Andre Breton, the father of Surrealism, and artists André Masson and Joan Miro are the ones who gave it life. Breton defined surrealism as “psychic automatism in its pure state” in his manifesto. This idea gained popularity back when Freud started coining terms such as conscious, preconscious, and unconscious to define the different levels of awareness. But it was that word: unconscious that intrigued the surrealists the most. They believed that, through surrealist automatism—what we call intuitive art—would give them access to their most hidden thoughts, emotions, and even memories.

And it became a fad. The surrealists felt they were tapping into their very dreams by scribbling, painting, even writing without thought. Groups were formed. philosophies—and arguments—over what constituted “pure” automatism sparked heated debates. Many surrealists came to the conclusion that, no matter how pure one would like to be, all automatic drawing involves a teensy bit of consciousness. But did that stop them? No. Many of the surrealists we learned about in school were big fans of automatic drawing, including Salvador Dali.

Today, it’s no question why this movement is still growing, evolving, and spreading. Intuitive art allows us to take a moment to revert into the quiet. To turn our brains off. To meditate. In a world that often seems far too loud, this is a true healing practice.

What is the Unconscious Mind?

A lot of people use the terms “subconscious” and “unconscious” interchangeably, but they aren’t the same thing. The subconscious is what gets you home from work when you don’t remember driving. The unconscious is what keeps you breathing while you’re sleeping.

In terms of emotional responses to external stimuli, both play a role. However they differ in the why. With subconscious reactions you can usually figure out why you reacted a certain way once you think about it, but with the unconscious mind it’s a complete mystery. There is a reason, but that reason is in the deep dark corner of your brain behind a locked door.

There is a theory that the unconscious mind is constantly taking in our sensory information. Everything we see, smell, taste, touch, hear, at all times, is going into a database. It’s sort of like your own personal camcorder with extra attachments. However, we can’t possible remember all of this information consciously, or even subconsciously, so it goes somewhere in your brain in what is probably some sort of neurological zip drive. But just because we don’t remember these moments consciously, doesn’t mean these moments in our life aren’t still influencing our decisions, thoughts, actions, emotional responses, even our fears and instincts. It’s why you have a weirdly warm reaction to to oranges, but have no idea why.

As for dreams, our subconscious and unconscious both play a role in those as well, but it was tapping into that nougatty center of our unconscious dreams that really excited the Surrealists.

But, even though it sounds all meditative and Zen, as I said earlier, Surrealists couldn’t start an art movement without causing a turf war. So they split into sub-groups. There was the general group of Surrealists who would start intuitively but would eventually move into more conscious decisions. And then there were the “purists” as they called themselves, who worked without any external stimuli and worked as thoughtlessly as possible from beginning to end. Though one might argue that the muscle memory involved in holding and moving a pencil is a more subconscious act—and maybe even conscious act—over an unconscious one. I don’t know. Maybe the purists drew while sleeping.

I myself am in the former category of intuitive artist. I like to start a drawing or painting in a meditative, clear-headed sort of way, and then about 75% of the way through, pay attention to design principles like balance and variety.

Give it a Try

For me, intuitive art is about the process, and more importantly, the play. Art should be fun to do, not a tedious and grating task. Back when I was a preschool teacher I’d never seen eyes shine brighter than on days I let them get out the paint. There’s nothing like the creativity of someone who has yet to learn about straight lines.

What I’m hoping you accomplish, as you give intuitive art a try, is to tap into that inner child, the part of you who didn’t care about messing up because there was no such thing. You aren’t here to paint the Mona Lisa. You’re here to have fun.

Still, if you’re having a bit of trouble getting started with that basic pencil and scrap paper, here are a few tricks:

1. Close your eyes: this one freaks out my adult students, and even my high schoolers give me frantic looks when I force them to do this. But the best way to shut your conscious critic up is to take away its power. After all, you can’t judge your drawing if you can’t see it.

2. Use your non-dominant hand: this one is fun and usually creates a lot of laughter-filled memories, because you can see what you’re doing, but you cut yourself a whole lotta slack. And it’s great for bringing out that inner child. After all, this is how you used to hold the pencil in your dominant hand. And as for ambidextrous folks? Time to draw with both hands at the same time!

3. Use one continuous line: the continuous contour line exercise has been a staple in art classes throughout the ages, so there must be something to it. There are even artists out there who make their living with continuous line art. In the intuitive art world, it’s another great way to quiet that critic and allow yourself some slack.

Good luck and have fun!

Until next time, may your scribbles be exciting and your unconscious be tapped.