The Creative Pause

Discover the power of "the creative pause" – those intentional moments when we stop consuming and start creating. In a world of endless scrolling and digital noise, learn how even 5-15 minutes of creative practice can reconnect you with yourself, reduce stress, and bring genuine joy. This post explores how small creative acts – from sketching to photography – can become meaningful rituals that ground your day and nurture your wellbeing. No artistic talent required – just the willingness to pause, create, and return to presence.

FINE ART PHOTOGRAPHY

Martin Osner

4 min read

When was the last time you simply stopped? Not to scroll. Not to check. Not to reply. But to pause—even just for a few minutes—and allow yourself to be still.

You might recall in my previous discussion about Stop Scrolling and Start Creating, I discussed how, for many of us today, our modern habit of endless scrolling, though often unnoticed, is gradually chipping away at our sense of presence and joy. I discussed the subtle toll it takes—how it overstimulates the mind, feeds anxiety, and leaves us feeling creatively drained. But we also uncovered something powerful: putting the mobile down and picking up something creative—a brush, a camera, a pencil, can reconnect us with what truly matters—with ourselves.

And that brings us here, to what I call the creative pause.

It's a deceptively small thing, this pause. But in a world of endless noise and obligation, choosing to stop and make something, in my experience, has become a quiet act of rebellion. A moment of mindfulness. A way to say, "Right now, I choose to be more than a consumer. I choose to rather be creative and create."

Life moves quickly. You don't need me to tell you that. But when did you last stop for long enough to feel it? Not just intellectually, but physically? When you slowed your breath, looked around, and realised how long it had been since you'd been still on purpose?

That's the essence of the creative pause. It's not about preparing for a grand art project or waiting for a free afternoon. It's about creating space for even five, ten, or fifteen minutes of intentional making. It might be scribbling on a serviette whilst waiting for your coffee. It might be taking a photograph, even on your phone, with creative intent, not just to share on social media, but quietly savouring light, form, texture and composition. It might be scribbling in a journal, painting a streak of colour across paper, or layering some texture with no outcome in mind.

I have found that something remarkable happened during these moments.

Our nervous system slows. Our mind rebalances. You step off the never ending "reaction treadmill" and return to a state of curiosity and presence.

We become still within our creativity.

According to research published by the American Journal of Public Health, engaging in visual arts such as painting and photography has been shown to reduce stress and improve overall wellbeing by enhancing brain function and lowering cortisol levels. Simply summarised: art is good for your brain, body, and spirit.

As Dr Cathy Malchiodi, a leading art therapist, says, "Creativity is the original mindfulness practice. It brings us into the present moment most naturally and joyfully."

It's like the difference between standing in a raging current and stepping aside in a quieter tranquile pool, That current—the constant pull of updates, opinions, and alerts—doesn't go away, but now we are watching it go by, not being swept away by it.

This pause is a gift you can afford yourself at any time. But the secret is to become contentious about it and its benefits; the more you exercise it, the more you benefit. It becomes a daily routine, "me time" if you will.

Some people meditate. Some pray. Others find quiet in tending to a garden or sitting with a cuppa by the window. Others go for long walks. Sometimes it helps to spend some time in nature. And then there are those of us who choose to create. Who reach for our cameras, or brushes, or tools. Not with any pressure to perform, but with a deep desire to come alive again.

I can't tell you how often I've sat down, burdened or distracted, and left a short creative session feeling whole again. Its time to switch off the phone, noise of the world and pause. There's no big applause. No audience, and that's more than enough. Take a deep breath, ahh, that's much better.

And if you need a nudge, schedule it like an appointment. Not because you have to "achieve" something, but because showing up for your creativity is showing up for yourself.

In time, these pauses add up. They start to anchor your day. They become a source of inspiration, calm, and even identity. You begin to find yourself through what you create. And in a world that often rushes past our inner life, that is a quiet but decisive victory.

So here's my invitation: find a few minutes today—even ten—and pause. Choose a straightforward thing to do with your hands. Sketch. Scribble. Photograph. Collage. Just create, not for the result, but for the release.

Let your creative pause become your tranquil pool withing the rapids of life.

In our following discussion, I'd like to explore something as important: discovering your creative DNA. We'll talk about how creativity is not a talent reserved for a chosen few, but something woven into the fabric of who you we are. We'll explore how to reconnect with that innate creative spark that's uniquely yours—the particular way you see the world, the themes that naturally draw you in, and the mediums that feel like coming home. No pressure. No labels. Just you, rediscovering the artist that has always been within.

Until then, remember, pause as often as you can. Create without pressure. And trust that every small act of creativity brings you one step closer to yourself.

Chat soon. Kind Regards, Martin

A photograph of a keyboard with the words "The Creative Pause" highlighting the importance of creative fine art photography
A photograph of a keyboard with the words "The Creative Pause" highlighting the importance of creative fine art photography