When Intuition Feels Like Drowning: Battle Behind Commissions.

I recently finished a commission for a lovely couple—gracious, trusting, and kind. And yet, it may have been the most stressful painting I’ve done in years.

Here’s the truth that many artists don’t talk about: doing intuitive commissions can feel like walking blindfolded across a tightrope. You’re not working off a sketch. There’s no blueprint. Just you, the canvas, and a gut feeling that sometimes seems to vanish the moment the brush hits the page.

People often ask, “Do you do a drawing first?” I tell them, “No, I work intuitively—please trust the process.” But here’s the thing: while I ask them to trust me, I’m still learning to trust myself.

This particular piece challenged me in every way. The color palette was outside my norm. The motif that once felt vivid and clear became muddy and loud. At one point, it literally hurt my eyes and ears to look at it. I painted that same concept—eight or nine times—trying to find my way back to the vision I thought I had. I couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t go forward. I was stuck. Completely.

So, I did what we all hate doing—I set it aside. I’d return and love it. Then I’d hate it again. Rinse and repeat.

This isn’t a confession of failure. It’s a reminder: even seasoned artists get tangled. The stuck-ness is part of the work. The pressure of wondering “Will they like it? Will they hate it?” can drown out the joy of creating. That joy is the heartbeat of intuition—and without it, the process feels hollow.

Here’s what this commission taught me:

• Detach from the outcome. Stop worrying about whether it will be liked. Create because creating is your language.
• Play first. There’s a time for focus, yes, but never skip the part where you feel, explore, and respond.
• Trust your gut. Don’t overthink—dig deeper into the process. Beauty lives in complexity.
• Talk less, paint more. The more you explain your doubt, the more it grows. Silence has power. Listening has wisdom.
• Have a feedback friend. When you’re deep in the weeds, someone honest can point out the path you can’t see.
• And above all—remember your gift. God didn’t promise every painting would be perfect. But He did give you the tools and the grace to keep going. Even through the messy middle.

So to every artist out there feeling stuck, lost, or unsure—you’re not alone. The path back to inspiration is through the paint. Keep moving. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

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Signed with love and paint-stained fingers,

Lyssa