Art as Self-Care: How Pastels Help Me Quiet the Noise
Finding Stillness in the Mess: How Soft Pastels Invite You Home to Yourself
You know that feeling when the world won’t stop spinning, but all you want is to land somewhere steady? Maybe you’ve been chasing quiet moments, something slower, something rooted. I see you. That ache to feel grounded again is exactly what brought me to soft pastels, and maybe, just maybe, it’s what brought you here, too.
There was a time I wasn’t sure if art could really be a form of self-care, at least not without guilt or performance sneaking in. But something shifted when I met soft pastels. Their quiet magic met me in a noisy world.
The first time I noticed it, I was standing in front of a half-finished painting. I’d been layering soft blues and warm golds, and suddenly, without planning to, I realized my whole body had gone still. No buzzing thoughts. No should-do lists. Just me, the paper, and the hush of the moment.
That’s the kind of stillness I want for you.
Not just peace for peace’s sake. But a space where your inner world feels heard. A practice that doesn’t demand perfection. A creative rhythm that meets you wherever you are.
The Soulful Texture of Pastels
Soft pastels aren’t quiet in color, but they’re quiet in practice. Each one has a different sound as it skims the paper, some gritty, some silky, all grounding. I’ve come to crave that tactile rhythm. It’s not about making “good art,” it’s about letting your body settle. You don’t need to explain yourself when you’re making something just for you.
You might find, like I did, that the process becomes a ritual. Choosing colors that match your mood. Moving your hands until something inside you shifts. Letting the mess be part of the magic.
Creativity Without Conditions
There’s freedom in knowing not every painting needs to be a keeper. I give each one two chances; if I don’t love it, I let it go. There’s no pressure to produce, just permission to play.
I protect my studio time like a love note to myself. Some mornings I rise early just to catch the golden light before the house wakes up. I sketch loosely, wash in color with alcohol, and wait for the underpainting to dry. It’s ordinary, but it feels sacred. And I want that for you, not just as a practice, but as a mindset.
It’s okay if your art is just for you. It’s okay if it changes. Some seasons, I paint every day. Other weeks, I’m pulled toward baking, crocheting, or even dusting off my trombone. But pastels are always waiting, messy, forgiving, and full of light.
If You’re Just Starting Out...
If your soul is calling for something steady and expressive, pick one medium and sit with it for a while. Let it surprise you. Let it be yours. If that’s soft pastels, welcome, you’re in good company.
And if the idea of “being an artist” still feels too big, start small. A coloring book. A pocket sketchpad. A moment with your hands and a splash of color.
What matters is that you’re listening to yourself.
This Is Your Invitation
I’m not here to tell you what your self-care should look like. I’m just here to offer what’s helped me feel more like myself in a loud world.
Because you, dear collector, are not just someone who sees beauty, you feel it. You collect moments. You understand that art isn’t only about the finished piece on the wall. It’s about the way it makes you breathe easier. The way it calls you back to yourself.
That’s what pastels do for me. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.