Earlier this year, i felt like i had lost a post of myself. i couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, but i knew something had changed. the things i once enjoyed doing, especially drawing, designing, and exploring my creative side, had started to feel different. it wasn’t that i had forgotten how to draw or that i could no longer come up with ideas. it was that nothing i created seemed good enough anymore.
every drawing felt like it could have been better. every design felt like something was missing. i would look at the things i made and think, meh, this isn’t quite it. Rather than enjoying the process of creating, i found myself worrying about how the final result should look. Somewhere along the way, i had started expecting everything to be perfect before i could feel satisfied with it.
the more i thought about it, the more i realised that i was becoming disconnected from a side of myself that i genuinely loved. creativity had started to feel like a task i needed to get right instead of something i could explore, experiment with, and enjoy. i had hit a creative block, and i wasn’t sure how to get out of it.
so,i decided to do something about it. i wanted to reconnect with that part of myself, rediscover the joy of creating, and remind myself why i loved art in the first place. i knew i couldnt keep doing the same things and expect to feel differently, so i started looking for ways to step outside my comfort zone, explore new ideas, and spend time around other creatives.
That was how i came across an art community on Instagram called Pensil dan Kertas, which translates to Pencil and Paper. They hosted weekly art events built around different themes, giving people a chance to come together, interpret a prompt, and create something of their own.
it sounded like exactly the kind of experience i needed. There was just one small problem: I actually had to show up.
Showing up was the first challenge
the first event i attended was an experience i wont forget anytime soon. i was nervous, and if you’ve ever tried stepping outside your comfort zone, you probably know the feeling. you start questioning your decision, wondering whether you belong there, and imagaining all the things that could go wrong. sometimes, you even start looking for reasons to turn around and go home.
that was me.
when i arrived at the event, i was so nervous that part of me wanted to leave and head straight back home. i had already made the effort to get there, but suddenly, being around a group of people i didn’t know felt like a much bigger deal than i had expected. still, i decided to push through the discomfort, find a seat, and jpin the other creatives.
The theme for that session was Dunia di Balik Objek, which translates to The World Behind the Object. We were given an object, a lamp post, and asked to imagine the world behind it. The idea was to use the object as a starting point and create a story or a world inspired by it.
At first, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the prompt. After thinking about it, I started imagining a lighthouse standing out at sea, shining its light into the surrounding darkness. That became the idea behind my drawing.
It might sound like a simple concept, but my mind was already busy doing what it does best: criticising my own work before I had even finished it.
I started wondering whether my idea was good enough, whether the drawing would look as interesting as I imagined it, and whether the other people in the room would come up with something much better. Looking around at other creatives and knowing that everyone would interpret the same theme differently only made me more aware of my own doubts.
For a moment, I genuinely felt like I was out of my league.
But then I thought about it. I was already there, I had an idea, and I had started drawing. Why not just see it through?
So, I continued working on my lighthouse. I drew, coloured, and eventually signed my artwork. It wasn’t perfect, and I could already think of things I might have done differently, but I decided to leave it as it was.
At the end of the session, we were asked to submit our artworks for appreciation. I placed mine with the others and didn’t think too much about it. I had come to try something new, and at that point, I was happy enough to have completed the drawing and made it through the event without running back home.
I had no idea I was about to leave with much more than I came for.
when other people saw something I couldn’t see
at the end of the session, i found out that my artwork had been selected for application. what made it even finished in my eyes. yet people had voted for it, connected with the idea, and appreciated what i had created.
if your artwork is selected, you get to go up, explain what you drew, and recieve a small token of appreciation. we then took a group photo, and the session came to an end.
But the experience didn’t end there for me.
After the event, several people came up to me to comment on my drawing. They complimented my work, asked me how I had learnt to draw, and encouraged me to attend more sessions. Some even asked to connect and become friends.
I remember telling a few of them that I didn’t think I was particularly good at drawing. But they disagreed and encouraged me not to worry so much about it. They wanted me to keep coming back.
Honestly, i was surprised. here i was, spending so much time questioning whether my work was good enough, while other people were looking at the very same drawing and finding something they liked about it.
their reactions didnt suddenly make me an expert, nor did they mean that my work had nothing left to improve. but they made me question the way i had been looking at my own creativity.
i had become so focused on what was missing, what could be better, and what wasn’t working that i had forgotten to appreciate what was already there. i was judging my work against an imagined standard was making it difficult for me to enjoy the process at all.
sometimes, we can be so caught up in our own criticism that we struggle to see our work from another perspective. we become so familiar with the flaws we notice that we forget other people might see something entirely different.
that experience reminded me that my own opinion of my work isn’t always the only perspective worth considering. there is value in allowing other people to experience what we create without immediately telling ourselves why it isn’t good enough.
and perhaps more importantly, there was value in simply showing up and sharing my work in the first place.
Finding my way back to creating
i returned home feeling different. not because all my doubts had magically disappeared, but because i had been reminded of something i seemed to have forgotten: i didnt need to be perfect to create something worth sharing. i just needed to keep creating.
i realised that i had been putting too much pressure on myself. every drawing didnt have to be my best work. every design didnt have to be something i was completely satisfied with. sometimes, i needed to create something, iearn from it, and move on to the next thing.
i also remembered that mistakes could be part of the art itself. it wasnt that i had never known this before. i had simply forgotten it somewhere along the way.
i needed to return to the basics, practise, experiment, and give myself the freedom to learn again. instead of expecting every piece to turn out exactly as i imagined, i needed to enjoy the process of discovering what i could do.
and that’s what i started doing over the following weeks.
i kept attending the pensil dan kertas events, and each session gave me an opportunity to try something different. i encountered themes and techniques that challenged me in ways i hadn’t expected. some ideas came naturally, while others required me to think harder and step outside what i was comfortable doing.
One experience that stands out is when I tried perspective drawing. It was something I had been afraid to attempt because I thought it would be difficult. But when the opportunity came, I gave it a shot. To my surprise, the drawing turned out well, and I was impressed with myself because I hadn’t expected to be able to do it.
That experience taught me something else: sometimes, we decide that we cannot do something before we have even given ourselves the chance to try.
Had I continued avoiding things because I was afraid they wouldn’t turn out well, I might never have discovered that I could actually do them. I would have kept treating my perceived limitations as facts rather than things I could challenge through practice.
I won’t say that I’m now a perfect artist. Far from it. There are still plenty of things I want to learn, including human composition, foreshortening, colour theory, and colour mixing, among other concepts. The more I explore, the more I realise how much there is to discover.
But that no longer feels like a reason to stop. Instead, it gives me something to work towards.
I’m learning to approach creativity with more curiosity and less pressure. I want to be able to try something new without worrying too much about whether I’ll get it right the first time. I want to enjoy creating, even when the result isn’t exactly what I imagined.
Most importantly, I want to keep that part of myself alive without turning every creative pursuit into another thing I have to get right.
What this experience taught me about creative blocks
Looking back, attending that first event gave me more than an opportunity to draw. It helped me reconnect with a part of myself that I had been struggling to reach, and it reminded me that sometimes, getting through a creative block requires more than sitting at your desk and trying harder.
First, perfectionism can get in the way of creativity. Wanting to improve your work isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it is part of learning any skill. But when the need to make something perfect keeps you from experimenting, finishing, or sharing your work, it can block your progress. Sometimes, you have to allow yourself to make something imperfect so you can learn what to do differently next time.
Second, a change of environment can make a difference. I had spent so much time in my own head, looking at my work through the same critical lens. Attending an art event exposed me to new ideas, different approaches, and people who were willing to share their creativity. Leaving my usual environment helped me see things differently and gave me a reason to start creating again.
Third, there is a lot to learn from other creatives. When you spend time around people who approach the same prompt in completely different ways, you begin to see possibilities you might not have considered on your own. You can learn new techniques, discover different ways of interpreting an idea, and pick up little details that help you develop your own skills.
I think it’s important to approach this with the right mindset, though. Looking at other people’s work doesn’t have to become a competition or a reason to feel inadequate. Instead of asking yourself why someone else is better than you, try asking what you can learn from what they have created. What technique did they use? How did they approach the composition? What could you experiment with in your own work.
There is room to appreciate someone else’s creativity while still developing your own.
Finally, sometimes you need to stop waiting until you feel ready. I was nervous before that first event, and I had doubts about whether my drawing would be good enough. If I had allowed those feelings to make the decision for me, I would have missed the experience entirely. Showing up didn’t make the fear disappear, but it gave me the opportunity to discover something beyond it.
And that, to me, was the real value of the experience. It wasn’t just about having my artwork appreciated. It was about giving myself the chance to create, connect, learn, and see things from a different perspective.
I’m Still learning, and That’s the point
Since that first event, I’ve attended almost all the different sessions the community has organised. I’ve tried things I once thought would be too difficult, met fellow creatives, and found new ways to approach my art. I’m still learning, and I still have days when I question whether something I’ve created is good enough. The difference is that I’m learning not to let those thoughts dictate whether I continue.
I think that’s something we sometimes forget when we pursue a creative skill. There will always be another technique to learn, another concept to understand, and another way to improve. You can spend so much time thinking about how far you still have to go that you forget to appreciate how far you’ve already come.
For me, rediscovering my creativity wasn’t about becoming a better artist overnight. It was about learning to enjoy the journey again. It was about giving myself permission to experiment, make mistakes, learn from others, and create without expecting every piece to be perfect.
Sometimes, the best thing you can do for your creativity is to step away from your usual routine, find a new environment, talk to other people, or simply try something you’ve been putting off. You might discover a new technique, make a friend, or find a little inspiration. Or you might just have a good time creating something you enjoy.
And sometimes, you might walk into an art event feeling nervous about whether your work is good enough and walk out realising that you were being much harder on yourself than you needed to be.
That was what happened to me. I went looking for a way to reconnect with my creative side, and I left with new experiences, new connections, and a renewed willingness to keep learning. More than anything, I remembered that creativity doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth pursuing.
Now, I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever experienced a creative block, struggled with perfectionism, or felt disconnected from something you once loved doing? What helped you find your way back? And if you’re an artist or creative, what’s something you’ve learnt from being around other creatives?
Let me know in the comments. I’m still learning, too, and who knows? I might just learn a thing or two from your experience.