Slow Life

How Abstract Painting Helped Me Relax and Enter a Flow State

Zhou • Feb 6, 2026 • 5 min read
paintingflow statecreativity
Abstract Painting by Zhou
Paint by Zhou

I’ve been searching for ways to let my brain truly power down. Not “relax” in the productivity sense, but actually go quiet.

Today, I want to talk about something that once scared me—and later became unexpectedly healing: painting.

Letting Yourself “Get It Wrong” Is Where Freedom Begins

For a long time, I was trapped in a particular curse: not being able to draw realistically.

As a complete beginner, I believed painting had one clear goal—to reproduce reality. Flowers should look like flowers. Birds should look like birds.

Every time I picked up a brush, a harsh inner critic showed up immediately:

The proportions are off. The colours are muddy. The perspective is wrong. This doesn’t look like anything.

That constant self-judgement turned painting into a high-pressure exam. I tried sketching, copying references, and practising basics again and again—but every attempt ended in frustration.

Later, Yang suggested watercolour. I painted flowers and plants, carefully and obediently. They looked fine. But inside, I felt dry. There was no joy—none of that so-called “creative pleasure”.

And then, almost by accident, I stumbled into the world of abstract painting.

Watching as Therapy: A Strange Human Instinct

Before I even started painting abstractly, I noticed something surprising:

Simply watching other people paint abstract art was deeply relaxing.

This might be a very human instinct. Watching colors bleed into paper, layers overlap, brushes move without a clear destination—it creates a quiet sense of safety.

There’s no dialogue. No explanation. No lesson to follow. Just the sound of colors moving. We can stare at fire, water, or drifting clouds for a long time without getting bored. Watching someone paint feels like the same kind of experience.

I didn’t need to understand what they were painting. I didn’t need to decide whether it was “good.”

My brain simply slowed down.

Color goes on, then gets covered. Lines appear, then disappear. There’s no clear goal—but something keeps unfolding.

The process itself felt like a deep breath taken on my behalf.

That was the moment I first realized: Maybe painting doesn’t have to become anything at all.

If your mind feels noisy right now, you might start with observation instead of action.

These videos are part of my personal inspiration archive—my visual noise-cancelling headphones:

The Right to Mess Around: The Quiet Joy of Abstract Painting

When I finally started following along with abstract painting videos, I felt something loosen.

For the first time, I let go of the burden of “looking right.” Even if my painting looked nothing like the instructor’s, it was still okay.

Beauty still existed.

That was when I began to understand what taste really means.

Copying is important—it’s part of learning. But when joy is present, time stretches. Before I realised it, nearly three years had passed since I first started painting.

My sense of freedom didn’t arrive all at once. It came slowly, layer by layer. And the moment I truly allowed myself to mess around on paper, I felt a kind of happiness I hadn’t known before.

The most magical thing about abstract painting is this: There is no correct answer.

I can pour paint freely, scrape it across the surface, and use my fingers to feel the texture of the paper. Inside that small square frame, I’m not recreating the world—I’m creating order.

Or chaos. Or both.

This kind of “messing around” gives an immediate sense of control. Watching a blank page become charged with tension because of one impulsive gesture creates a pure, instant satisfaction.

These two videos show the charm of intuitive painting beautifully. They remind us that painting can be pure play:

“Whatever.” The Only Ticket Into Flow

I’ve found that the fastest way to enter a flow state while painting abstractly comes down to just one word:

Whatever.

Whatever if it looks good. Whatever if it’s professional. Whatever if the composition makes sense.

When I reach this state, time disappears. I stop thinking about meetings, deadlines, or tomorrow’s problems. My entire world shrinks to one color, then the next.

It’s a deep, quiet calm.

At its core, this “whatever” attitude is really saying, “I allow myself to be imperfect.”

Eventually, I understood: I was never bad at painting. I was simply locked outside by the standard of “looking right”.

Abstract painting gave me an entrance that required no explanation and no proof.

A Few Gentle Suggestions If You Want to Try

  • Use the cheapest materials possible. You’ll feel freer if you’re not afraid of wasting them.
  • Start small. Large canvases create pressure. A small piece of paper invites play.
  • Mute the inner critic. If it starts talking, cover its mouth with a bold, unapologetic stroke.

Painting isn’t for showing others. It’s for building a shelter for yourself.

Next time your brain feels overloaded, don’t scroll. Buy a simple set of paints. Put down a few careless strokes.

Trust me—the joy of “whatever” is the key to letting you slow down and get peace.

Abstract painting by Zhou
Another paiting by me