When I started my 100 Day Project, I had a simple goal: to rebuild a regular creative practice.
After a difficult period where making art had started to feel more like an chore than a joy, I wanted to find my way back to the studio. Not with the pressure of producing finished work, but through the simple act of showing up.
Now that I’ve reached the end of the challenge, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve learned along the way.
Small Really Does Add Up
One of the first lessons was that making something small is infinitely better than waiting for the time and energy to make something big.
My original intention was to work at A4 scale. That lasted all of a few weeks before life got in the way and I found myself scaling down, first a little, then a lot, until I settled on 10 x 10 cm squares.
At first it felt like a compromise. By the end, it felt like a breakthrough.
The smaller format removed many of the barriers that had been stopping me from creating. I could complete a piece in a short amount of time, experiment freely and move on without overthinking. More importantly, I could maintain momentum.
Discipline Comes Before Motivation
I started the project believing that motivation would follow progress. In reality, motivation came and went.
Some days I couldn’t wait to get into the studio. Other days I was tired, distracted or simply uninterested. There were weeks when I seriously considered stopping altogether.
What kept me going wasn’t inspiration. It was the commitment I’d made to myself.
While that may not sound particularly romantic, it taught me something important: waiting to feel inspired is often overrated. Creativity frequently appears after we’ve started, not before.
Constraints Create Freedom
The project theme was intentionally loose: 100 Days of Blue.
Blue is my favourite colour and one I always return to. It holds associations with sea, sky, distance and depth, all recurring themes in my work.
Working with a limited palette gave me enough structure to begin each day without feeling restricted. Rather than narrowing possibilities, the constraint actually expanded them. I explored texture, mark making, collage, abstraction and landscape-inspired imagery, all while staying connected to the same underlying theme.
Not Everything Has to Become a Finished Painting
One of the biggest shifts was learning to value experimentation for its own sake. This was a big one for me! Because I started painting when working fulltime I’ve always had this little voice in my head that said I had to create something worthwhile, otherwise I’d be wasting my time. So reflecting on the challenge I think this may be one of the biggest takeaways for me.
Many of the pieces created during the challenge will never become finished works. Some are more successful than others. Some are little more than visual notes.
But that’s okay.
The purpose of the project wasn’t to create a collection of masterpieces. It was to create space for curiousity. Looking back through the work, I can already see ideas, colour combinations and compositional approaches that I want to develop further.
The challenge became a sketchbook in paint.
The Goal Wasn’t the Art
Perhaps the biggest surprise is that the most valuable outcome wasn’t the artwork itself.
It was the habit.
For months before starting the project, I had struggled to establish any consistency in the studio. By committing to a daily practice, however small, I gradually rebuilt the rhythm of making.
Somewhere around the halfway point, I realised I had already achieved what I set out to do.
The challenge wasn’t really about 100 days of blue. It was about remembering that I am happiest when I’m creating.
What Comes Next?
As the project ends, I find myself in a slightly unexpected position. Part of me is relieved to be finished. Another part will miss the quiet daily ritual that has accompanied me for the last few months.
The challenge may be over, but the lessons remain.
Show up.
Keep it simple.
Experiment often.
Trust that small steps accumulate.
And when in doubt, paint something blue.