Lost in Flow, Losing My Painting (a confession) — Encore Artists

Experiencing creative flow is one of the most exhilarating parts of my life.

And it’s currently the easiest way for me to lose the painting I meant to make.

It’s hurting my progress — and, more quietly, my joy. I’ve even started avoiding my studio time.

I can drop into a flow state quickly. Swirling my brush in glowing, gloppy teal paint — moving fast, almost athletically across the canvas — painting like a musician inside a tight rhythmic score. Expressive, bold gestures. Color responding to color. I am smiling — cue little sheepish micro‑smiles.

Flow. Freedom. I am connected to the moment. I can’t hear the relentless interruptions from my phone (or my pissy teenager yelling at me for not being an on‑demand personal assistant).

It feels good — the flow part. The feedback loop of action and response is immediate, almost in lockstep.

And yet, here’s the truth.

The more often I enter this seductive flow state, the more I lose the painting I meant to make.

It’s a mess for me. I get so absorbed in the process that I disconnect from my vision — the part of me holding the whole. And this is not working. I am not making stronger paintings. They look like fun improvs. Not complex, heart‑pulsed paintings. Almost all of these “flow” paintings lately are do‑overs. (So much wasted paint.)

I stack the canvases in the back of my studio — a quiet graveyard of “flow fun gone wild.” It’s not shame. I loved the experience. It’s becoming a heap of disappointments.

This writing is my outing to myself: I need to course‑correct. This is making me NOT want to paint in my studio.

Differentiation and integration

I keep coming back to something Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (the father of the flow concept) wrote:

“The self becomes complex as a result of two processes: differentiation and integration.”

Hmmm — differentiation and integration.

Yes — my flow state is all differentiation. It’s expansion. Expression. Movement. It is falling and dancing inside the painting — responding, reacting, following energy wherever it goes.

But what’s missing is integration. The part that steps back. Holds the whole. Organizes what matters. Keeps the painting in relationship with the original vision.

What this looks like in the studio

Differentiation feels like improvisation.

I’m responding moment to moment. A color leads to another color. A shape suggests the next move. I deepen a magenta because it feels right. I add a burst of orange as it accidentally merges with my brush. I chase a line across the canvas just to see where it goes.

Everything is alive. Reactive. Automatic. I’m inside the painting — but I’m not holding it. Not really. Too much “let” and “go.”

Integration feels completely different. It is not flow. It is staccato. Disconnected. It requires my thinking mind — a different rhythm and feeling entirely.

In an integration state, I step back and ask:

What is this painting saying?
What is taking focus?
What does it need? Refer to my reference photo or to my sketchbook notes.

Questions. Pause. Reflection. Slow, small changes. Sometimes it means stepping away — a walk, a coffee, a photo to see it differently.

Integration is when I’m no longer just in the painting. I’m in relationship with the whole of it.

I shared this insight with a student Tuesday night, and she immediately related to also getting lost in flow. Are there more of us out there? Creatives who drop into flow — and can’t quite find their way back out?

Here’s what I know now: flow pulls me strongly into differentiation. But without integration, the painting keeps expanding without ever resolving.

What I’m changing

I’m not giving up flow.

But I need to change how I work with it. I believe both states — differentiation and integration — are possible. I just haven’t been practicing the second one enough.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.