Studio notes: ‘I’ve lost my mojo, I’ve found my mojo!’ 🌱
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
Each month inside THE ARTHOUSE, we have a studio prompt, and this month it’s Mojo.
I chose this prompt because I think it’s an interesting idea; for some, it seems to determine whether or not we make art. If we feel we’ve lost it, our practice goes out the window. If we have it, everything is good. But I think there’s more to it than that - and I think there may be a way of hanging onto it more often…
For me, mojo is a feeling; it’s about energy, curiosity, freedom and momentum. It’s usually heightened when I’m really engaged in my work. I don’t necessarily mean physically being in the studio - I mean when I’m deeply into a project and that energy starts to spread into everything else. I wake up thinking about the work, I’m eager to get to the studio, my creative radar is switched on.
On the other hand, I notice that after long stretches of feeling disconnected from my practice (and there have been many) - when I’ve been away from the studio or not making - that creative radar loses power. It feels distant (tinged with sadness and guilt), there’s no energy, there’s no mojo.
For a long time, I thought of it as this transient thing: Oh, I’ve lost it. Oh, it’s returned. As if it floated in and out on its own. But I don’t think that’s quite the case.
I think mojo often shows up when we take action. And the more action we take, the more immersed we become. At some point, the question of mojo almost disappears because we’re in it - we simply just have it. It tends to fade again when we lose momentum, lose interest, or become physically and mentally depleted.
Which made me wonder:
If mojo is malleable, what would it feel like to intentionally dial it up?
A quick caveat: I’m not talking about periods of deep emotional pain, trauma, burnout, or genuine disconnection. Those experiences are far more complex, and I’m not suggesting we can simply switch ourselves out of them. I’m talking here about the natural day-to-day ebbs and flows of creative practice.
What I mean by that
I don’t mean forcing it or faking enthusiasm. I mean, asking: how do we increase the energy, engagement, or openness when we’re already in motion? And how can we use that to develop the work?
During our recent studio session, I invited members to name something they felt was missing in their work - and what they’d like more of.
The kinds of things I hear artists say:
‘I want more freedom in my work.’
‘I want my work to feel bolder.’
‘I want my work to feel more expressive.’
‘I want more space in my work.’
Then I asked them to step into the version of themselves that already had more of that. Like trying on a coat. Sometimes a coat fits perfectly, and you want to stay in it for a while. Sometimes it’s too big or too tight, and you want it off immediately. Either way, you’ve learned something.
It’s the same in the studio. We’re not committing forever, we’re trying something on for size, experimenting - testing a new way of being in the work. I invited (gently dared!) members to dial things up just a little further than usual…
What happened in our session
After members shared what they were dialling up, we worked for an hour with intermittent prompts to help maintain focus and momentum. Afterwards, we came together to reflect on the experience.
Honestly, it filled me up! 😊
One member wanted to go bigger but didn’t have the space or a large enough surface. Usually, those limitations would have stopped her. Instead, she grabbed two pieces of cardboard, placed them together, got down on the floor, and went for it. The joy that oozed from her was infectious. She entered a space she hadn’t been in before, which means the door is open now. She knows it’s there, and no doubt she’ll visit it again.
Another member wanted more spaciousness. She found herself making large sweeping marks with a single brush - something she’d never have tried on her own. Instead of adding everything and then subtracting, she was being discerning from the start. She was delighted!
And me? I wanted to develop some recent drawings into paintings. I’d spent the days before the session trying to scale them up on paper, getting overly caught up in proportion and composition.
After seeing an exhibition the day before, I returned to my studio and could feel how constrained the work was. I was desperate to loosen up. In that hour, I worked through five paintings consecutively. No overthinking, just moving my hands and making. I wanted raw lines, texture, fingerprints - all of it. And it felt amazing! I held on to the intention of dialling up that playful energy as I worked, and I was buoyed along by it. I know that would never have happened had it not been for the session.
Sometimes we come out of a session like that, look at our work and think: That’s too much. But I believe we often have to go too far, or do too much in order to find our boundaries. We have to push at our edges to know what feels like too much - or too little. That’s how we begin to recognise our real, ever-shifting preferences as artists. We have to be willing to stretch if we’re going to discover them 💫
What might happen if, the next time you enter your studio, you dialled something up - just 10% - and saw where it led?
Let me know if you give it a go, I’d love to hear your experience!
Inside THE ARTHOUSE
Every month inside THE ARTHOUSE, we run a range of sessions - including two-hour studio sessions like this one.
Each session has a different focus, but the intention is always the same: to play, experiment and explore - because that’s how the work develops, and often, that’s how we develop too.
If you’re curious about what it’s like inside my creative community, there’s a FREE trial month so you can experience it for yourself. We’d love to welcome you, simply click the button below to hop over and join us:
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