Exhausted but Still Making Things
Skimming life. Solitude. My video essay. A book I can’t forget.
I have nothing deep to say—sometimes I just need to exist.
Not to reflect. Not to share. Not to turn anything into content.
Just to be here, not performing being here.
Enjoy the book I’m reading.
Close my eyes to really hear the song I’m listening to.
Go for aimless walks.
I don’t want to be deep or insightful.
I want to put the gear in neutral and coast.
Struggle less. Worry less. Do less.
I don’t want to explain my work, write artist statements, or document the process.
I want to open my laptop and write.
Let my mind meander and make no sense—until it does.
Pick weeds from my garden.
Donate dusty things from my shelves.
Let that silly streak die on that silly app.
Who cares, really?
When I’ve spent my energy but still feel the guilt to keep going, punching the clock of creativity becomes the default—logging hours, repetition parading as growth, performing the same tired thing over and over and calling it practice.
It can quickly lead to doing the bare minimum.
But I showed up!
I think of reading: you can get to the end of a page and realize you haven’t taken in a single word.
And here you have a choice—flip to the next page, or return to the top.
Absorb the words.
You’d be better served to start again and take your time.
This depth of care requires energy.
You can’t skim your life and expect it to stick.
There’s a quiet momentum that builds when you slow down enough to notice what’s on the page.
Not every creative rhythm looks the same.
Some people underline everything.
Some reread entire chapters before moving on.
What matters is whether you’re actually there.
Present. Paying attention.
Turning the page when it’s time—not just because you feel pressured to keep up.
So yeah, there are times I don’t want to be deep.
I want to linger on the current page, slowly underline what interests me.
Feel the pleasure in absorbing the moment.
Let go of the pressure to get to the next page, even for a short while.
We are here for such a short time, and we choose to make meaning from what we do.
We search and stretch, grasp for actions that will reflect who we are—to leave an imprint on others.
Using our limited resources to stretch and strain, thinning out our foundation through effort.
So sometimes, I just need to exist.
Slowing Down as a Creative Person: Why It Might Be the Best Thing You Do
Feeling behind in your creative life? Let’s go for a walk. This quiet visual essay explores what it means to slow down as a creative person—and why that might be the most sustainable, fulfilling choice you can make. I talk about comparison, the invisible pressure to keep producing, and the quiet rebellion of doing less—better.
Personal Work
The view from a boathouse in Norway.
Book Recommendation
I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman
A meditative exploration of survival, existence, and the human need for meaning. I will be upfront that this book divides people—the plot is minimal and much is left unexplained. But that’s the point. The author was a psychoanalyst who fled Nazi-occupied Belgium, and that perspective clearly informs the introspective tone and emotional restraint of the story.
I couldn't help but think about my own life as I read this book. What things am I doing simply to make meaning? What matters? How do I want to spend my time here?
There are no clear or perfect answers in this book, but if you are open to thoughtful, unsettling reads, you will enjoy this.
Hey, you made it to the end! I have a secret for you. I took a week "off" from Substack to finish the YouTube video. I've been wanting to play with video essays for ages but simply had limited time. I felt guilty—then I remembered that I'm literally setting my own standards, rules, and being hard on myself. If a friend said "Hey, I need more time and can't do both," I'd say "Green flag! You're excited to grow in a new way and challenge yourself!"
I learned a lot filming this one. For starters, I discovered I don't hate my voice as much as I thought—huge win! I also learned that while filming myself repeating ideas helps create multiple shots that flow together, it requires an enormous amount of editing. We're talking hours of stitching footage together.
Taking these lessons forward, my next video might be 100% voiceover with collected moments from life. I've been carrying around my little pocket Osmo, capturing life as it happens.
My goal is to create 5 videos under 5 minutes. I'm treating them as opportunities to experiment and learn—a safe space to try things out. Nothing elaborate or overambitious. Just gradually getting comfortable with the process and building a habit, similar to how I started with Substack. And speaking of Substack, I made a video about that too, if you're interested ;)
So, 1/5 done. 4 to go!