You know that weird, itchy feeling in the back of your brain when you walk past a blank notebook or a museum poster? It’s not just boredom. Honestly, it’s a pull. People often describe it as a whisper, but for many of us, art is calling for me feels more like a shout that I’ve been ignoring because I have emails to answer and groceries to buy.
It’s easy to dismiss. We tell ourselves we aren't "creative types." We think art belongs to people with MFAs and expensive brushes. But that’s a lie. The urge to create—whether it’s a messy watercolor, a poem on a napkin, or a garden bed arranged just right—is a biological imperative. Scientists like those at the International Arts + Mind Lab at Johns Hopkins University have spent years proving that our brains are actually wired for aesthetic experiences. When you feel that pull, your neurobiology is literally asking for a workout.
The Neurobiology of the "Creative Call"
Why does it feel so urgent? Basically, your brain on art is a different beast entirely. When you engage with a creative task, you’re activating the Default Mode Network (DMN). This is the part of the brain that handles self-reflection and mind-wandering.
In a world that demands constant, focused attention (the Task Positive Network), the DMN gets starved. When you say art is calling for me, you’re often just describing your brain’s desperate attempt to balance its own chemistry.
Dr. Girija Kaimal, a researcher at Drexel University, led a study that found 45 minutes of making art significantly lowers cortisol levels. It didn't matter if the person was "good" at art or not. The biological relief was the same. The stress didn't care about the quality of the drawing. It just cared that the hands were moving.
We often wait for "inspiration" to strike. That’s a mistake. Inspiration is a fickle friend who rarely shows up without an invitation. The call is the invitation.
The Misconception of Talent
Stop thinking about talent. Seriously.
The biggest barrier to answering the call is the ghost of a middle school art teacher telling you that your proportions are off. Who cares? If we only did things we were perfect at, we’d never walk, talk, or drive. Art is calling for me isn't about producing a masterpiece for the Louvre. It’s about the process of externalizing what’s inside.
There’s a term in psychology called "Externalization." It’s the act of taking a chaotic emotion and putting it into a physical medium. Once it’s on paper, it’s no longer inside you. It’s out there. You can look at it. You can change it. You can even throw it away. That’s power.
Why the Call Feels Louder Lately
It’s no coincidence that more people are feeling this tug toward the tactile. We live in a digital haze. We spend eight hours a day pushing pixels around a screen, which provides zero sensory feedback. Your brain craves the resistance of a pencil on paper or the smell of wet clay.
- Tactile Feedback: Screens are smooth and sterile. Art is messy.
- Time Dilation: Creating puts you in "flow," a state identified by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi where time seems to vanish.
- Authenticity: In an era of AI-generated everything, your specific, flawed, human mark matters more than ever.
When you think, art is calling for me, you might actually be craving a break from the "optimization" of modern life. Everything we do now is tracked, measured, and monetized. Art is one of the few things left that can be entirely, gloriously useless in a commercial sense, which makes it incredibly useful for the soul.
Real Talk: The Resistance
Steven Pressfield wrote a whole book about this called The War of Art. He calls it "Resistance." The second you decide to answer the call, Resistance shows up. It looks like a sudden urge to clean the oven or an overwhelming need to check your bank balance.
Resistance is proportional to love. If the call didn't matter to you, you wouldn't feel so much anxiety about starting. The fear you feel is actually a compass. It’s pointing you exactly where you need to go.
Answering the Call Without Quitting Your Job
You don't need a studio in Paris. You don't even need a spare room.
I’ve seen people do incredible work on the subway using nothing but a ballpoint pen and a receipt. The idea that you need "the right gear" is just another form of Resistance. It’s a delay tactic.
If art is calling for me, the best response is a small one.
- Lower the stakes. Buy the cheapest supplies you can find so you aren't afraid to "waste" them.
- Set a timer. Give yourself ten minutes. That's it. You can do anything for ten minutes.
- Focus on the "Ugly First Draft." This is a concept often used by writers, but it applies to everything. Your only job is to make something bad. Once it’s bad, you can make it better. But you can't fix a blank page.
The Role of Community
While the call is internal, the echo is often found in others. Groups like "Urban Sketchers" or local pottery cooperatives exist because humans are social creators. Sometimes, the reason art is calling for me is because I’m lonely for a type of connection that doesn't involve a keyboard.
Sharing your work is optional. Honestly, for the first year, maybe don't share it. Keep it for yourself. Protect that spark before you let the cold wind of social media comments blow it out.
The Aesthetic Incubation Period
There’s this thing that happens when you start listening to the call. Your vision changes. You start seeing the way shadows fall across a sidewalk or the specific shade of orange in a rusted bolt. This is called "aesthetic incubation."
Your brain is beginning to collect data. Even when you aren't "making," you are creating. You’re building a library of visual and emotional references.
This is why people who answer the call often report feeling more "awake." Life stops being a series of tasks to be completed and starts being a series of things to be observed. It’s a radical shift in perspective.
Does it Have to Be Painting?
Absolutely not.
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The phrase art is calling for me is a broad umbrella. For some, it’s cooking without a recipe—the art of flavor. For others, it’s coding a beautiful, elegant solution to a boring problem. It could be photography, woodworking, embroidery, or even the way you dress. Art is simply the application of human creative skill and imagination. If you are putting "yourself" into a medium, it’s art.
Actionable Steps to Silence the Noise and Start
If you're reading this, the call is probably getting pretty loud. Don't overthink it. Don't go to an art supply store and spend $300 on oil paints you don't know how to use yet.
Start with a "Morning Pages" approach. Originally popularized by Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way, this involves three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing. It’s basically a brain dump. It clears the "mental static" so the creative signals can get through.
Create a "Sacred Space" (Even if it’s a shoe box). If you don't have a desk, have a box. When that box is open, you are an artist. When it’s closed, you’re a person who pays taxes. This ritual helps your brain switch modes.
Follow the "Breadcrumbs." What were you obsessed with when you were ten? Dinosaurs? Glitter? Building forts? Those are your breadcrumbs. They lead back to your authentic creative self before the world told you to be "productive."
Embrace the "Finished, Not Perfect" Mantra. A finished drawing of a wonky-looking cat is infinitely more valuable than a "perfect" drawing that only exists in your head. The physical world requires completion.
Stop waiting for the "right time." The right time is usually when you're the busiest, because that's when you need the outlet the most. Art is calling for me is not a luxury. It’s a survival mechanism for the modern world.
Pick up a pen. Move your hand. See what happens.
Practical Framework for the Next 72 Hours
- Day 1: Buy one medium-quality sketchbook and one pen you actually like the feel of. That’s it. No more.
- Day 2: Spend 5 minutes drawing the most boring object in your room. A stapler. A coffee mug. A shoe. The goal is to see it, not to make it "pretty."
- Day 3: Look at what you made. It probably looks a bit rough. That’s great. You’ve officially answered the call. Now, do it again for 6 minutes.
The momentum is more important than the quality. By day four, the resistance will be slightly quieter, and the voice saying art is calling for me will sound a lot more like your own.