The challenge of being patient in a fast-paced world
I am still waiting for an instruction manual on how to exist in a world that keeps accelerating. A world that profits from keeping us restless, distracted, and forever chasing the next goal.
It’s increasingly harder to allow ourselves to take our time, experiment, struggle, and simply enjoy the process, because all we see are the finished results of other people’s efforts. And not only that, today, with the help of AI, we can have anything almost instantly: instant advice, essays, designs, music, illustrations, therapy, company… (All I ever wanted is for AI to do my dishes, not take away all my creative jobs. But that’s for another post.)
By any means, I have never been the most patient person, but perhaps, to my surprise in today’s world, I would consider myself quite patient.
For me, it’s a continuous practice of acceptance and the biggest struggle of being an artist in this fast-paced rat race. I constantly battle not only with my own impatience, but also with the guilt of how much time it takes me to bring a piece to completion. Of spending weeks, months, sometimes years, following an idea until it finally takes shape on paper.
I keep reminding myself that good things take time.
And still I have doubts. Is my art really good enough? Is the time I invest in it worth it? And what am I supposed to do with this deeply ingrained belief that time is money?
Time and patience have become the biggest luxury.
But that is exactly what my art practice is teaching me: to take my time and to be patient.
What making art teaches us about patience
Making art cannot be rushed. And this is exactly what I was pondering when creating this pastel portrait.
It is a little practice study, a joyful return to drawing after weeks of preparing my studio sale. Sometimes, when I am this hungry to draw again, I surprise myself, and with this little drawing, I realized how much love I can put into something quiet so unremarkable as a sketchbook study.
My drawings reveal themselves through layers. Each layer demands focus, careful observation, patience, delicacy, and decisions about color. Sometimes I make a mistake, and I have to step back, remove something, or start again.
Even in these small studies, I have to be willing to slow down and stay with something difficult, something that challenges my impatience, perfectionism, and expectations.
Luckily, patience and focus can be cultivated, even though they are, in my case anyway, constantly undermined by living in the world with social media. And in my artistic practice, I notice how much harder it has become to reach a state of flow when we are surrounded by endless opportunities for distraction.
Learning to appreciate the process, not just the result
Drawing has always been a time of meditation and contemplation for me, and it has taught me a lot about myself and about life. Perhaps the most valuable lesson I’ve learned is to trust and enjoy the process, even when I cannot yet see where it’s leading. That includes slowing down, dedicating time to refining ideas, adjusting small details on each layer over the course of weeks, and learning to accept mistakes as a necessary part of the process.
The small, seemingly insignificant decisions suddenly become the path and take on much more meaning when we step back and view them from a wider perspective.
Results are perhaps overrated.
Ironically, good results come with staying consistent. And I’ve learned that consistency is easier to maintain when there’s enjoyment in whatever we are pursuing. Part of it for me as an artist and as a person is learning to slow down and be patient, because living fast steals joy from anything we do.
In today’s world, it takes courage to slow down, to invest time. I feel extremely privileged that I can do that, and I am trying not to take the moments when I can put all my attention to one thing, whether it is drawing, climbing, or talking to a friend, for granted.
Sometimes, it is enough to be fully present with what is right in front of us.
