Art as Medicine for Grief (& Why It May Explain Your Artist Block)
The healing power of art-making is no secret, and its benefits are slowly making their way into the mainstream. Adult coloring books have been popularized as a tool for stress relief. Watercolor is known as a calming medium you can reach for after a long week. But what’s not often talked about is art’s ability to move us through grief.
Grief is not a popular topic. It’s often avoided, almost as if people fear they might "catch" the heartbreak that touches us all at some point. In our culture, grief is usually kept private, so its expression becomes muted, hidden, or even shamed. Many of us have absorbed the message that grief is wrong. But what if I told you that this deep well of love—expressed as sadness, anger, and confusion—is actually a portal to what longs to be created?
I’ve come to see that grief is one reason (though not the only one) artists stop creating. Think of the heaviness and rage of grief building up in your body, waiting to be released, waiting to be screamed or cried out. Maybe some tears are shed, but then the grief is told, "That's enough, no more of this”. The emotions are ignored, shoved aside with the hope they’ll vanish. But emotions don’t just disappear. They live in the body until they’re given space to move.
“Waters of Change” by Kara Olson
Now enter art. You sit down with a blank sheet of paper. It’s just you, the page, and your materials. Silence surrounds you. This space is open for creation, but what else has been waiting for space? Your grief. And it’s ready to spill out. So what do you do? Do you close the sketchbook and turn on the TV, returning to distractions? Or do you let the emotions rise? First comes discomfort, then the release. You begin covering the paper with your anger and tears, and it flows out without pause. Before you know it, the page is full, so you grab another. And another.
Suddenly, you’re no longer blocked, you’re in flow. All it took was letting yourself sit with the unease long enough for the art to carry it. Relief comes. You feel lighter, more connected to your heart. That’s the medicine. Art becomes a container for your emotions, and if you’re willing to stay with that discomfort for just a few minutes, you can access this medicine anytime. All it takes is a few marks to open the door.
The art I make today is rooted in what intuitively wants to flow out of me—whether it’s joy, wonder, grief, or something else entirely. You can explore my work here: https://www.karaolsonart.com/.
And, if you’re feeling blocked, I invite you to sit with a blank page this week. Let your pen, brush, or pencil carry whatever wants to come through, no matter how messy. See what shifts in you. You might just find the medicine you’ve been needing is already in your hands.