After Hibernation: marks, colour and the joy of starting again

Spring is creeping back into the studio.

This morning, sunlight reached farther across the table than it has in months. A warm patch on the floor, catching the edge of my sketchbook. Just enough to make me pause.

Outside, the garden is waking up. Tiny green shoots pushing through tired soil. Crocuses and daffodils appearing like small sparks of colour. Nothing loud, just life quietly insisting it’s here.

Inside, my sketchbook is following suit. Pages that felt empty are starting to fill. Marks that used to feel cautious are loosening. Colour is returning. Energy is returning. There’s that delicious feeling of trying things without knowing exactly where they’ll go.

I think we all go through it. Long stretches where work feels slow, internal, almost in hibernation. The sketchbook sits there, blank or half-filled, and you wonder if the spark will ever come back.

But then it does. Slowly. Like the season itself.

There’s a relief in noticing it. That moment when the work feels light again. When curiosity leads instead of pressure. When the first few marks start to open the page instead of fill it. That’s the part that matters—the process waking up before the outcome arrives.

Here’s what I’ve been holding onto:

• Small shifts matter. A new colour, a bold stroke, a mark made without overthinking.

• Energy comes quietly. Pay attention to the signals, you might almost miss them.

• You don’t have to rush. Let the work wake up at its own pace.

Some mornings, it’s sunlight and shoots in the garden that remind you: there’s life under the surface. Work is the same. Slowly, surely, it returns.

So today: open the sketchbook. Make a mark. Watch what blooms.