Hey friends, and welcome to The Artist is In. I'm Kat Collins, and today I want to explore something that's been whispering to me in the studio, and maybe shouting a little louder in life, and coming up in conversation with other artists. And that's the magic of letting go of the outcome. As artists, and honestly as humans, We're taught to focus on the end result. Chase a finished product, a polished thing, something measurable, something that proves we're good, successful, or worthy. Maybe you felt this too, that pressure, that invisible weight that says prove yourself. If so, you're not alone. But here's what I'm learning. The real magic is doesn't live in the outcome. It lives in the letting go. There was a painting I was working on a few weeks ago that I kept trying to fix. It was late afternoon. I was tired and hungry. After working on paintings most of the day, I felt this low hum of frustration building behind my ribs. The negative self-talk started creeping its way in. You're not good enough. Why even bother? You should just trash this painting. The painting had layers that felt heavy, overthought, disjointed. I was gripping the brush with this quiet desperation, trying to make it work and force it. I had an idea in my head, and it wasn't translating to the canvas very well. The painting needed to be part of the submerged series that I was creating for a solo art show. I put a ton of pressure on myself to make things perfect, to have an end result that was worthy. After all, I was creating it for a solo show, which is a big deal for an artist. But you know that moment where you're not creating anymore? Instead, it feels like you're managing an expectation. Like you're trying to control the direction so tightly that the life gets drained out of it. That's where I was. The joy was gone. The energy was flat. I shoved the painting in a corner of my studio and gave up on it. I left it there for a week. But then I came back to it. And something in me softened. I stepped back, I breathed, and I reminded myself, this doesn't have to be anything yet. I stopped painting what I thought it should be, and instead I started responding to what was actually there. I made a bold turquoise blue and gold green swoosh across the surface. Something unplanned. And suddenly, I felt a shift. That one gesture cracked something open. That moment reminded me that the work doesn't always want to be shaped. It wants to become. The outcome doesn't mean we stop caring. It means we stop clinging. It's the trust fall that creativity requires. We show up. We do the work. And then we let the work become what it needs to be. It means you're creating from a place of presence, not pressure. It's trusting that even if it doesn't go the way you imagined or plan, it will go the way it needs to. It's making the mark without knowing if it will work. It's painting what moves you, even if it doesn't sell. It's speaking your truth. even if no one claps. Learning to ignore your inner critic doesn't mean accepting work does less than your best. It means accepting your work for where it is, and more importantly, allowing it to take its own form. By starting anything with the intention that it has to be perfect, we leave ourselves open to disappointment, harsh self-criticism, end procrastination. We close ourselves off from possibility. There's this beautiful kind of freedom that arrives the moment we stop performing for the finish line. The moment we stop asking, will this be good enough? And start asking, is this true? I recently shared my response in my email newsletter to asking the question, what have I outgrown? Creatively, emotionally, spiritually, that I'm ready to let go of. The answers are still unfolding, but some truths are already clear. I've outgrown the beliefs that I need to make myself small. That I have to stay quiet, take up less space, wait for permission. That my art must look a certain way to be worthy. that I need to please others to be valued, that I'm not good enough, that I'm a fraud. I'm choosing to let that go. I'm choosing to make the work that moves me, not what I think I should create. And in doing that, I felt something shift, a return to freedom, flow, and authenticity. Because people don't want perfect. They want real. And honestly, so do I. My biggest fear about my upcoming shows, that no one will show up. But I'm not letting fear run the show anymore. I'm showing up for myself first. So I want to ask you from one human to another, one artist to another, what have you outgrown? What beliefs or expectations are you ready to release? What would happen if you stopped censoring your voice, your creativity, and your life? I've noticed this shows up outside the studio too. Often in conversations, in relationships, in trying to control how I'm perceived, there's this subtle tension between wanting to be understood and and wanting to be accepted. And sometimes it keeps us from showing up at all. But when I let go of the need to be perfect, when I give myself permission to just be, there's so much more ease and so much more room. My college professor once told me many moons ago, stop treating your work as precious. I was notorious for getting to a point in a painting and stopping, thinking it was quote unquote perfect. I didn't want to touch it because I felt I would mess it up. So my professor took a paintbrush, taped it to the end of a three-foot stick, and told me to keep painting. I didn't know what to do. He said, scribble on the painting. I thought he was ridiculous. I was... angry with him, quite frankly. I didn't want to ruin my painting. But I was also terrified because this meant forcing myself to venture into the unknown, into the unexpected. It was an invitation to let go, even though I didn't know it at the time. He took the stick from me and asked, may I? Begrudgingly, I nodded. He chose black paint, of course. and proceeded to start making these organic scribbled lines on my painting. I was a bit shocked, but then he handed me the brush and said, keep going. So I did. I mixed in oranges, yellows, and greens with the black and scribbled. And I breathed the beginnings of freedom. As I said, I didn't get it at the time, but now I understand. Amen. Stop putting so much pressure on the outcome. Let it breathe. Let it be messy, unfinished, wild, and full of truth. Believe it or not, I still have that painting in my studio. I don't show it. I don't display it. But I like to keep it and bring it out every now and then to remind myself, to let go. Isn't it strange how we hold on to perfectionism like it's protection when really it's a cage? Can you think of a moment when you were terrified to mess something up and what happened when you risked it? So if you're holding something tightly today, a project, a plan, a piece of yourself you're afraid to share, what would happen if If you let go, even just a little, what if your job isn't to force the work into being, but to meet it where it is? What if you made something just for yourself today, not for the feed, not for the sale, not for validation, for you? Can you allow something to be messy and still beautiful? There's magic in that space. There's freedom. There's you. If you're listening right now and thinking, but I have to get it right, or I have to have an end result. I see you. Trust me. It's hard. Maybe the first step isn't letting go completely, but loosening your grip just a little. If you feel stuck in the outcome, here's something I sometimes do. I put on music. Pick a completely different color than what's in the painting. Or I turn it upside down. Or I do both. And make a mark that feels completely wrong. One that breaks the rules. One that makes no sense. It always shifts the energy. Try it. Let it be ugly. Let it surprise you. I invite you to try it right after this podcast ends. There's a quote by Julia Cameron who wrote The Artist's Way that says, the creative process is a process of surrender, not control. That's not easy, is it? Surrender feels vulnerable, but vulnerability is where creativity lives. Thanks for spending a little time with me today. The idea of letting go is a topic we'll explore this season in conversation with other artists. If something I shared resonated with you, I'd love to know. Reach out through katcollinstudio.com or on Instagram at katcollinstudio. And if you're walking your own creative path, just know your voice matters. Your work matters. Trust the process, the pivots, and the beauty in becoming. Until next time, breathe deep, feel fully, and keep showing up.