When Life Interrupts: Keeping Your Art Practice Alive Through Setbacks

You had a plan.

Maybe it was a show you were preparing for. A new collection in the works. A list of galleries to contact or a goal to paint every day.

And then—something happened.

An illness. An injury. A family member who needed you. A move. A wave of exhaustion you didn’t see coming. Suddenly, everything you were building in your art practice is on hold, and you’re left wondering how (or when) you’ll get back to it.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. It happens to every serious artist at some point. The key is not to avoid these interruptions (you can’t), but to navigate them in a way that protects your creative identity and helps you re-enter when you’re ready.

Here’s how.


1. Pause Without Guilt

This is the most important thing: life comes first. There will be seasons when art takes a back seat. That doesn’t mean you’re not an artist. It means you’re human.

A couple of years ago I spent several weeks in the hospital with a pretty-serious illness. I fully recovered, but it made me aware that I’m not always in control.

A few years ago, I got sick—really sick. It hit suddenly and laid me up for over a month. I couldn’t get to the gallery. I couldn’t keep up with my usual routine. For a while, I couldn’t do much at all. At first, I felt frustrated. Then I felt guilty—like I was falling behind and letting people down. But looking back, it was a reminder that we don’t control everything. Sometimes the only job is to rest and recover.

Let go of the guilt. Let go of the fear that you’ve lost something permanently. It will come back—and you’ll come back better for it.


2. Stay Connected in Small Ways

Even if you can’t make work, you can still keep a thread tied to your practice:

  • Scroll your old work and remind yourself what you’ve created

  • Take five minutes to jot down an idea or sketch

  • Read something that inspires you

  • Visit a gallery, even briefly

  • Make a list of projects you’ll tackle when the time is right

A creative practice doesn’t disappear—it waits. A spark here and there is enough to keep the connection alive.


3. Keep a “Return Plan” Handy

You may not know when you’ll return to your studio, but having a light framework for how makes re-entry less intimidating. Try this:

“When I’m ready, I’ll…”

  • …start by organizing my space for 30 minutes

  • …finish one small piece, not a full series

  • …reach out to one contact, not five

  • …block out two hours a week to begin, not ten

The first step back doesn’t have to be epic. It just has to happen.


4. Be Honest With Others—And Yourself

If you’ve dropped out of sight, you might feel pressure to explain yourself to collectors, galleries, or peers. You don’t owe anyone an apology—but honesty helps.

Something simple like:

“I’ve been navigating a few things personally, but I’m excited to be back in the studio and creating again.”

That’s enough. People understand. More than you think.


5. Don’t Wait for Everything to Settle

Sometimes the interruption isn’t a short-term thing—it becomes your new normal. Chronic illness. Long-term caregiving. A permanent shift in energy or time.

In those cases, it’s not about returning “when things go back to how they were.” It’s about finding what’s possible now.

  • A slower pace is still progress

  • A reduced output is still art

  • A new routine is still a practice

Make room for creativity as things are, not as you wish they were.


6. Let Setbacks Refine You

Many artists report that after a life interruption, their work deepens. Themes shift. Priorities change. Techniques evolve. The experience shapes what they make—and why.

That’s not a silver lining; it’s a creative truth. Life is the raw material. If you’re going through something hard, it will find its way into the work when the time comes.

And the work will be stronger for it.


Final Thought

You are still an artist, even if your brushes have dust on them. You are still building your career, even if this chapter feels like a detour. You haven’t missed your shot. You’re just taking a breath.

When you’re ready, come back. Start small. Stay kind to yourself. The work will wait.

And it will welcome you back like you never left.

About the Author: Jason Horejs

Jason Horejs is the Owner of Xanadu Gallery, author of best selling books "Starving" to Successful & How to Sell Art , publisher of reddotblog.com, and founder of the Art Business Academy. Jason has helped thousands of artists prepare themselves to more effectively market their work, build relationships with galleries and collectors, and turn their artistic passion into a viable business.

46 Comments

  1. great article and practical, creative ways of staying in touch with your artwork.
    Released me from. my self-imposed guilt!

  2. Thank you. My husband has a serious illness which will soon require surgery. I imagine that I’ll be thrown off for a while. It’s good to know that others have navigated this also. Thank you, Jason.

    1. Charlynn, thank you for sharing. Wishing you and your husband strength as you face what’s ahead. You’re right—others have navigated these waters, and you’re not alone.

  3. Yes, absolutely correct. When I shared with you, Jason, my setbacks I choose to see as successes…(of sorts), I had no idea really what true success was around the corner. Nor did I know how long things will last. But…I’m holding on to the “little at a time” thought and will head forward. I’m creating in a ever-so-slightly different direction in my art but with only minor differences. It’s the same technique, just different backgrounds. It feels so much mire like “me”. I still am not ready to head full on, but…I DO have my plan in mind. Thanks for your advice.

    1. Brenda, I’m so glad to hear that you’re finding your way forward—step by step, and in a way that feels more true to you. That slight shift in direction can open up big creative space. Keep holding on to your plan—it sounds like you’re right where you need to be.

  4. Spoken like an artist soul who has been through challenges and never gave up. Challenges are one of Life’s norms. Having a “what if” contingency plan, even if ad hoc is prudent. Wanting it badly enough makes it easier. Nice share, Jason!

    1. Ed, thank you— I’ve seen how powerful that resilience and drive can be in the artists I work with. You’re right—wanting it badly enough makes a huge difference.

  5. I have a three year burnout phase I’ve been going through after my husband’s dimentia and later death. When I stopped participating in art shows and festivals after 35 years, I couldn’t paint a thing. Now the urge and desire is coming back and I find this article inspiring, refreshing and uplifting–and most of all encouraging.

    Thank you!

    1. Fay, thank you for sharing your journey. After all you’ve been through, it’s heartening to hear the creative spark is returning. Wishing you continued strength and inspiration as you step back into your art.

  6. Hi Jason,

    Your article resonated with me. I would like to learn more about your Gallery and how you work with Artists
    to guide and mentor them to enable them to promote their art more effectively and efficiently.

    1. Janis, you’ve come to the right place! Stay tuned to the blog for more insights on how I work with artists and help them promote their art more effectively.

  7. THANK YOU for letting us know we are not alone in these difficult life interruptions! I’m slowly getting back into my art, and yes it has changed in a very positive way. For instance, I’m producing better work, without stressing over every tiny detail, and to focus on what is most important in a painting. Interesting that that statement applys directly to life situations as well. I’ve learned that self-guilt and fear are useless emotions that only impede the process.

    1. Thank you for sharing this, Sheila. It’s amazing how challenges can shift both our art and our outlook. Your insight about letting go of guilt and fear is powerful—and so true.

  8. Thanks for sharing as I start chemo next week and at this point haven’t got a clue as to how things will go or how I will feel. I’ve cleaned the studio and prepped panels, smaller ones and have a notebook handy. I’ll just take it one day at a time. Thanks Jason, great advice.

    1. Wishing you strength and clarity as you begin this next chapter, Margriet. Taking it one day at a time, with art close at hand, sounds like exactly the right approach.

  9. I was active in my local art scene until a 2006 house fire destroyed not only my possessions but also my creative spirit. In 2021 I slowly began creating again and by 2023 I had secured high-profile exhibitions and building a collector base. If I can do it after a 15 years hiatus, anyone can.

    1. Steven, thank you for sharing your story—what an incredible comeback. Your journey is a powerful reminder that it’s never too late to reignite the creative flame. Truly inspiring.

  10. Thank you for this wonderful article. I am right-handed and I lost the use of my right arm for 1.5 years. It was hard but I pivoted and did as much as possible with my left hand. After a lot of medical stuff my arm is much better. The mental toll is just as hard to overcome, both personally and professionally, always feeling like you are letting others down. The suggestions in the article are great.

    1. June,

      Thank you for your kind words and for sharing your experience. What you went through sounds incredibly challenging, and your determination to keep creating—even with your non-dominant hand—is remarkable. You’re absolutely right about the mental toll; it’s often the quiet, ongoing part of recovery that’s hardest to talk about. I’m glad the article resonated and offered some support. Your story is a powerful reminder of resilience and the strength of creative spirit.

  11. When the doctor told me there was nothing they could do for me, and to go home and get my affairs in order, I gave away all my art supplies since my kids had no interest in them. A piece of your soul dies when an artist gives up what they are designed for. It’s been 17 years, and I am still here. Picked up a paintbrush about 9 years ago. I’ve had to adapt to a broken body, and a different approach, but my heart sings again. That passion remains and is waiting for you to dust it off and bring it back to life. Never permanently close the door on that.

    1. Linda,

      Thank you for sharing such a powerful and moving story. Your resilience and return to painting after such a profound challenge is a testament to the enduring nature of creativity and the strength of the human spirit. That line—”A piece of your soul dies when an artist gives up what they are designed for”—says so much. I’m glad your heart is singing again, and I’m certain your story will inspire others to keep going, even when the path seems impossible.

  12. Thanks, Jason. Your kindness and positive thoughts are really appreciated. I’m going through an illness that is taking longer to resolve than I had hoped. You’ve given me some ideas for a plan to move forward.

    1. I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through this, Alec, and I hope each day brings improvement. I’m glad the message offered some encouragement and sparked ideas. Take things at your own pace—your art will be there when you’re ready.

  13. Jason,

    Heartfelt thanks to you for this wonderful and very timely article. Your advice and encouraging words are so helpful! After struggling with deep personal loss and heartache the past few years, I have been longing to find my way back to the art I love and thought I had lost. Since reading so many of the touching messages posted in response to your comments, I feel inspired to move forward with my own creative processes once again.

    1. Thank you for your kind words, Sally. I’m truly sorry for the losses you’ve experienced, and I admire your courage in moving forward. I’m so glad the article and the shared stories resonated with you—it’s a powerful reminder that you’re not alone. Wishing you continued strength and inspiration as you return to your art.

  14. I have been quilting for 50 years. A few years ago, I was getting carpal tunnel symptoms in my wrist from the unique motion of quilting. I thought I had to give it up forever. So I started oil painting. Holding the brush is different than the motion of hand quilting. Slowly my hand felt better, and I was inspired to try quilting again! My hand is all healed again, and now I’m painting AND quilting! Sometimes you just need to take a break. (and I don’t push myself so hard).

    1. Thank you for sharing that, Cheryl. Your story is a great example of how stepping away—whether by choice or necessity—can open new creative doors. It’s encouraging to hear how you found a way to heal and return with even more creative energy (and variety!).

  15. Yes… all of this. I just applied to three art shows, 2 juried indoors and 1 outdoor, and I did this while care-giving for my chronically ill adult daughter, while going through a health issue, doctors, and tests. Am I exhausted, yes, are things on the upswing, yes. I’m in one of the shows and awaiting notification from the other two. We can do this. If I’m breathing, I’m creating art (visual and screenwriting). — Lauri Jon

    1. Lauri, that’s inspiring—and a real testament to perseverance. The fact that you’re continuing to create and put your work out there, even in the middle of so much, says everything about your commitment and strength. Wishing you good news from those shows—and continued momentum as things keep moving forward.

  16. Thank you Jason! I’m currently laid up with a torn hamstring so reading this today was perfect timing. Feeling somewhat useless and not able to do much, your article was a great reminder that this will all pass and to count this time as an opportunity to step back and evaluate my work, marketing strategies and goals and make plans for any tweaks and changes that might be needed.
    Also to research new products, supplies and resources for such things. Your articles are always helpful and much appteciated!

    1. Garcia, I’m sorry to hear you’re sidelined right now, but I love how you’re using the time to reflect and refocus. That kind of intentional pause can end up being incredibly productive in its own way. Wishing you a smooth recovery—and a fresh burst of momentum when you’re back on your feet.

  17. Jason, thank you for this post! It is such a wonderful, uplifting thought😊. (Started painting, which I love, after I retired … but last few years been trying to fit it in and around caring for a family member with late-stage Parkinson’s. Had left me with just enough time and energy to enter the occasional show… but then I had to have major spinal surgery a year ago and have been in a real funk waiting to get the full use of my shoulders and arms back to paint again…not to mention the ability to focus😬. In any case, was debating throwing in the towel all together when I read this blog. This is exactly what I needed to hear! Again, thank you so much😊 You are a national treasure.)

    1. JoAnne, thank you for your kind words—and for sharing what you’re going through. That’s a heavy load to carry, and it’s completely understandable that your creative energy has been stretched thin. I’m glad the post reached you at the right time. Don’t throw in the towel. Even a slow return is still a return, and your voice as an artist still matters. Wishing you continued healing and small, encouraging steps back to the easel.

  18. Thank you for your kind, heartfelt words. Your positivity and encouragement has been welcomed and appreciated for so many of us.
    My sincere gratitude to you for all you do.
    Jonna

    1. Thank you, Jonna. That means a lot. I’m glad the message resonated and appreciate you taking the time to say so. Keep up the great work—your voice and effort matter.

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