Discovering Your Creative DNA

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." — Pablo Picasso.

That quote stopped me in my tracks the first time I read it. It felt like someone had tugged on a creative cord inside me — a reminder of something I'd once known instinctively but had somehow lost along the way. It also reminded me of something I often say to my students: perfection is usually the enemy of creativity. And it is. When striving for flawlessness, we lose the freedom to explore, play, and discover. Let's face it: creativity is messy. It's full of trial and error. It thrives on imperfections and happy accidents. When we let go of the need to get it right, we permit ourselves to feel our way through and enjoy the process. That's where the joy lives — in the experiment, not just the outcome.

There's magic that happens when you surrender to the process. You lose track of time. The worries that clung to you all day begin to melt away. The atmosphere softens, and you find yourself completely absorbed — not doing something for a result but being with something that stirs your creative spirit. And then, there it is — that quiet joy that bubbles up inside. That lift in your chest. That elusive smile sneaks in while you paint, photograph, collage, or create. It's a feeling that no screen, scroll, or inbox can replicate.

It's a gentle reminder that you're alive. You're more than just a responder to the world — you're a contributor to its beauty.

In our previous discussions, you'll remember we spoke about the numbing effect of endless scrolling and how even a few minutes of intentional, hands-on creativity — a "creative pause" — can help reset your emotional and mental balance. This next part of our conversation goes deeper still. It's about remembering who you are beneath all the noise. It's about coming home to something inbred, essential, and profoundly human: your creative nature.

We're often told that creativity is a gift reserved for the talented. That artists are born, not made. That you either "have it" or you don't. But I believe that's a lie — a deeply limiting one. Creativity is not something external that only a select few receive. It's something within you — a birthright. You were born with it.

Just watch any child play. They draw without hesitation. Paint with their fingers. Build castles from sand or cardboard without worrying about the final product. They aren't concerned about whether their creation is "good" or "worthy." They create, it's natural. It's joyful. It's instinctive.

So what happens to us?

Somewhere along the line, we internalise that creativity needs to be justified. That it should be helpful, presentable, and Instagrammable. We become self-conscious. We stop playing. We stop experimenting. We stop creating — unless an outcome feels acceptable to others.

But your creative DNA doesn't disappear. It just gets quiet.

And it waits. It waits for a moment like this — when you finally permit yourself to pick up a camera again, to splash colour across a page, to photograph a shadow or a flicker of light just because it caught your eye. It waits for you to get curious, not critical.

As photographer Ansel Adams once said, "You don't make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved."

That, to me, is what discovering your creative DNA is all about — realising that your creativity isn't some rare skill you need to earn. It's a reflection of your life, your spirit, your experiences.

And believe me, it's still in you, even if it's been silent for a while. Furthermore, I believe there is an artist in everyone; some have a larger dose than others, but no one is excluded. In all the years I have taught art and photography, I have never had a student withdraw because they were not artistic enough. Instead, I have had folk stop because they are too busy, or the pressures of life do not allow them to be creative, etc., but not because they cannot do art. Someone told me they had no artistic bone and could not paint with a toothpick. Nonsense! Who told you that lie? And by the way, painting with a toothpick could be very interesting.

One of the most beautiful things I witnessed through my art and photography courses is the transformation of people who had stopped seeing themselves as creative. After just a few sessions, their eyes light up. Their energy shifts. They begin to see the world — and themselves — differently. Not because they've been "trained" but because they've been reminded.

It's as if their inner artist had been waiting for a sign. And once they allowed themselves to explore again — without judgment or expectation — that creative energy rushed back like an old friend returning home.

So this week, try tuning back into your creativity instead of scrolling through someone else's expression.

You don't need to paint a masterpiece. You don't need the best camera. You need to listen — and trust that the artist inside you is still alive.

In the following discussion, we'll talk about how using your hands to create — to build, draw, stitch, photograph, layer — can begin to heal parts of your mind and spirit that digital convenience can never reach. We'll explore the simple but powerful truth behind Creating with Your Hands, Healing Your Mind.

Until then, dust off that part of yourself you may have forgotten, and let's begin again.

Chat soon. Kind Regards, Martin