Posted on August 14th, 2025
Think back to when life wasn’t a checklist. Before deadlines and “shoulds,” when your only job was to poke around, make stuff up, and follow whatever caught your eye.
That freedom? It’s not just nostalgia. It’s the secret fuel behind some of the most honest, surprising art out there.
And no, this isn’t about going full finger paint and glitter (unless you want to). It’s about loosening your grip a little—letting curiosity lead, instead of control.
Play isn’t fluff. It’s function. The best creative work often starts where the rules end. When artists stop clinging to “right” and “wrong,” things get interesting.
Colors clash in a good way. Mistakes spark new directions. The work feels alive because the process was.
This kind of freedom doesn’t mean ditching skill or depth—it just means leaving the door open for something unexpected to walk in.
For many working artists, play isn’t just a luxury—it’s the lifeline that keeps the work evolving. Still, it’s often misunderstood. “Play” gets a bad rap, labeled as unserious or immature.
But anyone who’s stuck staring at a blank canvas knows the real danger isn’t goofing off. It’s getting stuck in your own head. That’s where play steps in—offering a way out of rigid thinking and into something far more alive.
By letting go of the need to always produce something polished or intentional, artists give themselves permission to explore without pressure. This isn’t about wasting time—it’s about giving ideas room to show up.
Play creates space for curiosity to take the lead, where mistakes aren’t failures, just unexpected twists that might lead somewhere more interesting.
That shift in mindset makes it easier to take risks, try odd combinations, or follow an impulse just to see where it goes.
For artists working in abstraction or constantly producing for shows and collectors, this shift can mean the difference between burnout and breakthrough.
Beyond that, play helps dismantle creative rules that often go unquestioned. In an art world full of shoulds and shouldn’ts, play reminds you that you get to choose your own terms.
A splatter might be a spark. A misstep might turn into a style. You stop asking if it’s “correct” and start asking if it’s honest. That’s where work starts to hit deeper—when it reflects not just what you’ve learned, but what you’ve dared to try.
Experimentation thrives under these conditions. Mixing materials that aren’t supposed to go together, building textures from everyday scraps, layering pieces of personal history into contemporary forms—all of that becomes possible when play is part of the process.
Suddenly, your tools aren’t just tools. They’re collaborators. Your studio isn’t a workspace. It’s a lab, a sketchbook, and a sandbox.
That’s the real power of play. It doesn’t just shake things up. It reconnects you with why you started making art in the first place.
When play is welcome, so is wonder. And in a practice that can easily become too polished or too planned, a little wonder goes a long way.
There’s nothing quite as intimidating as a blank canvas—until you stop treating it like a test you have to pass.
Bringing a playful mindset into the studio breaks that tension. It replaces pressure with curiosity and makes it easier to start without overthinking where you're headed.
When you set aside the idea that every piece needs to be meaningful or resolved, something shifts. The work becomes less about nailing a result and more about seeing what happens along the way.
This kind of experimentation opens doors that rigid planning keeps shut. When you let yourself tinker, improvise, or just flat-out mess around, you’re more likely to bump into something interesting.
Maybe a texture you didn’t expect, a tool used the “wrong” way, or a color that shouldn't work—but does. There’s value in not knowing exactly where it’s going. That’s where new directions tend to reveal themselves.
Play also lightens the mental load. When the stakes aren’t so high, it’s easier to relax and let your instincts take over. That’s when the work feels real. And not in a forced, overthought way—but in a way that reflects you without trying too hard.
This looseness isn’t about being careless. It’s about staying open. When artists stop trying to control every inch of the canvas, the work often becomes more honest, more layered, and more appealing.
Beyond technique, playful experimentation gives room to explore emotional range too.
It’s not all fun and games—sometimes play looks like pushing into discomfort, switching gears, or letting a piece unfold in a totally different mood than you planned. That unpredictability is where depth comes from.
Over time, this process builds a kind of internal flexibility. You get better at adapting, solving problems mid-painting, and moving through creative slumps without getting stuck.
Each session becomes an open invitation to discover—not just what your materials can do, but what you’re capable of expressing. And the ripple effect is real. Viewers can sense when something was made with that kind of freedom.
The work feels more alive, more layered, and more human. Play, when used with intention, doesn't just make the process better—it makes the outcome richer. It's not a detour. It's the road.
Play doesn’t have to happen in a vacuum. Thanks to the internet, the act of creating—once a mostly private process—now unfolds in a shared, global space.
Digital platforms have become studios, galleries, and classrooms all at once. By joining these spaces, artists get access to something that used to be rare: a creative community that’s active, diverse, and constantly evolving.
Posting a half-finished experiment or a messy sketch online might feel vulnerable, but that’s where the magic happens.
It invites conversation. It sparks curiosity. And more often than not, it leads to encouragement or a new perspective that shifts your approach.
When others show how they’ve embraced play in their work, it creates a ripple effect—offering permission, ideas, or just a nudge to keep going. You’re not shouting into the void. You’re adding to an ongoing dialogue.
These online spaces don’t just build skill—they build connection. Seeing how someone in a different part of the world interprets the idea of play can broaden your own sense of what’s possible.
Whether it’s through thoughtful critique, casual conversation, or shared resources, this type of interaction stretches your thinking.
It reinforces that play isn’t frivolous. It’s a shared language. One that artists across cultures and mediums use to explore, question, and grow.
What’s more, documenting your own journey in real time can be both grounding and energizing. As you post your experiments, successes, and even the stuff that didn’t quite land, you’re creating a visual timeline of progress.
And while that can attract useful feedback, it also gives others permission to share openly, too. That back-and-forth keeps creativity circulating, and the more active the exchange, the more fertile the ground becomes for new work.
You’re not just learning from others—you’re helping shape the space as well. Offering your own thoughts, sharing your process, or simply showing up consistently adds value to the community.
Over time, this kind of engagement fosters a practice that’s not only playful but also connected. The work you make starts to reflect a broader set of influences, and in return, it speaks to a wider audience.
In a digital age where attention is scattered and creative doubt is common, these communities offer something solid: a reminder that play isn’t just personal—it’s collaborative. And when artists grow together, the possibilities stretch a little further.
As you explore the role of play in your art, consider how this mindset can deepen not just your work but also your connections.
At Brenda Erickson’s studio, we’ve built a space where experimentation isn’t a detour. It’s the method.
Guided sessions, abstract artworks, and even the stories behind sold pieces all share a common thread: the creative freedom to follow instinct, embrace surprise, and stay curious.
This isn’t just about making art. It’s about building an ongoing dialogue between past and present, material and meaning, and artist and audience.
You're invited to be part of it.
Join the online creative community or book a studio visit to experience guided sessions where process and discovery take the lead.
What makes these interactions meaningful isn’t just the artwork—it’s the exchange. Each conversation, visit, or shared experiment adds a layer to the creative energy we cultivate.
And the insights visitors bring are often as illuminating as the work itself. That’s the beauty of a community grounded in collaboration, not just output.
If you’re curious to learn more or want to talk about how this approach might work for you, call or text (770) 335-2743. You’re welcome anytime.
Have a question or an idea? I’d love to hear from you! Fill out the form below and let’s start a conversation about art, commissions, or anything creative.