Let's get honest. Most of us think we're one brush away from unlocking our style. The perfect line. The right texture. The viral trick.
But what if it's not the tools? What if the real blocks live somewhere deeper?
Here are five things that blocked my style--and how I started to move through them.
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I used to scroll endlessly, admiring everyone else's work… until it made me afraid to share my own. Not because I didn't love creating--but because I didn't think it was "good enough" in comparison.
The real danger wasn't just feeling inadequate—it was how this comparison slowly erased my artistic instincts. Every time I'd start creating, I'd hear echoes of other artists' voices instead of my own.
What Helped: I started saving inspiration less and sketching more. The less I consumed, the more my own voice had space to emerge.
I implemented "inspiration fasts" where I'd avoid all art platforms for 3-7 days and just work from memory and imagination. What emerged was rougher but undeniably more authentic. These fasting periods became sacred spaces where my natural tendencies could surface.
I believed every piece had to be portfolio-worthy. This pressure froze me before I even began.
The worst part? This perfectionism disguised itself as "high standards," making me feel virtuous for being so critical of my work. But these "standards" became handcuffs, preventing me from the very practice that would help me improve.
What Helped: Giving myself permission to create ugly, unfinished, or purely experimental art changed everything. Your style won't arrive perfect--it'll arrive in fragments.
I started a "Bad Art Journal" where the only rule was to finish each piece, no matter how much I disliked it. Some of my most distinctive stylistic elements emerged from these "failures" when I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
I wanted everything I made to "look like me." But the more I tried to control it, the more forced it became.
I'd panic when a new piece didn't match my previous work, convinced I was losing my artistic identity. This fear kept me repeating the same safe techniques rather than exploring new possibilities.
What Helped: I reframed inconsistency as evidence of growth. Like a plant changing direction to reach the sun, every stylistic shift is your voice stretching.
Looking at artistic evolutions of masters like Picasso showed me that true artists don't stand still—they evolve. I began grouping my work into "seasons" rather than forcing every piece to belong to the same visual family.
I knew what I liked, but I didn't think it "counted" as real art. I worried my colors were too soft. My lines too feminine. My compositions too dreamy.
I kept pushing against my natural inclinations because somewhere along the way, I internalized the idea that "serious art" looked different from what naturally flowed from my hand.
What Helped: I started honoring what I kept returning to--florals, animals, space, softness. That was me. That's where my real style lived.
I created a "taste board" of recurring elements in my work—color palettes I repeatedly chose, subject matter I was drawn to, compositional choices that felt natural. Seeing these patterns laid out visually helped me recognize my innate style was already emerging.
I told myself I should've figured this out earlier. That real artists knew who they were at 22.
This myth of the prodigy kept me feeling like an imposter. The weight of "wasted time" made each new attempt feel futile—why bother developing a style now when others had decades of head start?
What Helped: Researching artists like Carmen Herrera, who sold her first painting at 89, Klimt, whose "golden phase" began in his 40s, and Monet, whose water lilies series—perhaps his most recognized work—was painted in his later years, reminded me: late is just a story we tell ourselves. Art doesn't expire.
I started viewing my previous experiences not as delays but as necessary ingredients that now inform my unique perspective. The very things I thought made me "behind" actually contribute to what makes my work distinctive.
Your style isn't blocked because you haven't downloaded the right brush pack or mastered the perfect technique. It might be blocked by perfectionism. Or comparison. Or fear. But the good news? Those are all things you can work through with awareness and intentional practice.
Try this: For one week, create something daily without sharing it anywhere. This removes the performance pressure. Notice what emerges when nobody's watching.
Pay attention to your recurring choices—the colors you naturally reach for, the subjects that energize you, the compositions that feel satisfying. These preferences aren't accidental; they're breadcrumbs leading to your authentic style.
Most importantly, remember that style emerges through volume, not perfection. The artists we admire for their distinctive voices created hundreds or thousands of pieces to develop that recognition.
Start small. Create something today without trying to impress.
Style shows up when you stop trying to find it--and start letting it find you.
I hope you found this helpful. I encourage you to explore your art style with us on my upcoming course: Masterclass Vol. II for Procreate. In this course, we'll focus more about expressive art through colors, perspective, and composition.
With creative courage,
Freya 💖
Courses and brushes by Freya Kotchakorn helped mored than 10.000 students excel in Procreate drawings.
