Lately, I’ve been paying close attention to how sound—or the absence of it—shapes my painting process. It’s something I hadn’t really questioned before. I’d simply put on whatever music felt good in the moment or let silence fill the space. But as I worked on my latest collection of abstracts, I started noticing patterns. Certain sounds influenced my color choices, the way I moved the paint, and even the direction of a piece.

In silence, I find an immediate flow—an ease in laying down those first layers. But over time, I can lose myself in the process. Without an external rhythm, I sometimes go too far, overworking until all the light and movement I loved at the start gets buried. It’s like drifting out to sea with no sense of where I began.

So I started experimenting. Instead of choosing music based on mood, I matched it to different stages of my process. I begin painting in silence, letting intuition lead. But when I hit that inevitable stuck place—where I’m pushing too hard, where nothing feels quite right—I bring in sound to guide me forward.

Andrew Bird helps me stay in the flow while keeping me grounded. Phosphorescent pulls me out when things get too heavy or muddled, helping me reset. And R. Carlos Nakai slows me down, reminding me to breathe and be more intentional with my marks.

This week, I’ve been drawn to an instrumental jazz station. It seems to hold the perfect balance—enough structure to keep me tethered, enough freedom to let me wander. The right sound at the right moment can be a lifeline, a quiet nudge in the direction the painting wants to go.

I wonder—how does sound influence your creative process? Do you work best in silence, or does music shape the way you create? I’d love to hear.

This is exactly the kind of creative exploration I’m excited to share at my retreat in France this May—where it’s not just about technique, but trusting the process and getting inspired. If you’re still thinking about joining, feel free to reach out with any questions (there’s one spot left).

To me, creativity isn’t about forcing inspiration—it’s about learning to listen. To the quiet, to the rhythm, to the space between. Sometimes we need stillness to begin. Other times, we need a shift—a song, a walk, a new perspective—to carry us forward.

This week, I’m leaning into that rhythm, trusting that my nonfiction book proposal will unfold as it’s meant to. Soon, I’ll be submitting my work to agents, hoping to bring a beautiful book about creative living into the world (I’ll share more about this in the coming months). Because happy painting isn’t just about making art. It’s about embracing our unique gifts, being fully present, and finding joy in the process.

If you’re feeling stuck today, I offer this: Step away. Change the rhythm. Shift your perspective. Trust that the spark will return, often in the quiet moments when you least expect it. Keep your heart open. The way through is closer than you think.

If you want something to help you get started, I’ve put together some Free Painting Classes and Resources:

*Join My Free Sketchbook Class

*Join My Free Mixed Media Painting Class

With love and creativity,

Juliette

All photos and artwork by Juliette Crane. This essay was originally published on my Substack, Living The Way Of The Happy Painter.