When the Joy Returns
A playlist, a paintbrush, and the moment it all comes back
Last week, I felt stuck.
I had a newsletter to write. Paintings to finish. Zoom meetings to attend.
But instead of feeling inspired, I felt… off.
Heavy, unmotivated. Not sad exactly, just… distant from myself.
I sat at my desk, opened a blank document, and stared. Nothing came.
So I did what I always do when I notice I’m out of alignment and heading into a spiral I don’t want to stay in:
I walked up to my studio. I opened the doors. And I started to paint.
There was a big canvas leaning against the wall — a swirl of muddy layers I hadn’t touched since before my trip to France. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I covered it up. I squeezed out colors I don’t normally use. I grabbed a brush I rarely reach for.
And then… I turned on the playlist.
The playlist.
It’s the one I’ve been playing since my recent retreat in France — a mix of unexpected songs that became the soundtrack of our week together. And the very first song on it?
“Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves.
I didn’t even know who that was, honestly. But I’ll never forget how everything changed when it started playing on day one of the retreat.
The energy had been low that first morning. Everyone was tired from traveling, a little uncertain. I tried an exercise where we painted on each other’s backgrounds, thinking it would spark some playfulness. But it flopped.
People felt stuck. One person even said they liked their painting less after that exercise. The room got quiet.
Then someone said,
“We need different music.”
Another suggested Walking on Sunshine.
We hit play — and everything changed.
Smiles. Singing. Dancing. Shared brushes. Shared joy.
We became a group in that moment. A little art family. Every day after, we played that playlist. And every day, we came back to ourselves through rhythm, color, and laughter.
So last week, in my quiet studio, that’s what I returned to.
Even though I was painting over something I didn’t love…
I danced. I painted. I imagined all of us together again — laughing, painting, singing.
And just like that… the joy came back.
Not because I forced it, but because I remembered how to find it.
I wonder if you’ve ever felt that quiet tug, too — the one that says, start again, even if you don’t feel ready.
What’s your version of Walking on Sunshine?
What brings you back to yourself when the energy dips and your creative spark feels dim?
Sometimes it’s a song.
Sometimes it’s a color.
Sometimes it’s the decision to begin anyway — even if the result is awkward or unfinished.
And maybe that’s the real gift of creativity:
It doesn’t demand perfection.
It just asks for presence.
P.S. This is exactly the kind of joy I’m hoping to create at my July retreat in Wisconsin — playful, soulful, surprising joy.
A few spots are still open → Join us here
Can’t make it in person?
I’ve made space for you online too — through my free class and deeper offerings like my Portrait Painting Masterclass.
This week, I heard from someone who found one of my paintings while searching for colorful, joyful art. She joined my free class, loved the experience, and then signed up for the masterclass to bring more painterly joy into her own work.
That’s the kind of connection I hope to spark — online or in person.
P.P.S. Want a little more sunshine in your day?
I shared a Reel from that moment in France — a painting demo that turned into pure joy.
P.P.P.S. Curious about the playlist that changed everything?
Listen on Spotify
Thank you, always, for being here.
For painting when it’s easy.
For painting when it’s not.
For trusting your own rhythm.
With warmth,
Juliette
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A dose of sunshine, literal or metaphorical works for me! 😀☀️