The Art of Not Being Able to Draw a Straight Line

I have a confession: I wasn't allowed to do Art in school.

The powers-that-be decided that because I couldn't draw a bowl of fruit that actually looked like fruit (mine usually looked like a pile of depressed tennis balls), I wasn't "creative." I was steered toward "sensible" things, and for a long time, I believed them. I thought art was a club you were either born into or barred from.

It took me until I was in my 40s to realise that "Art" isn't just charcoal sketches and oil paints. It’s about finding your niche.

The Mid-Life Creative Awakening

I didn't start with the coins or the vintage sixpences. I started with beads. There was something about the tactile nature of them—the colours, the way they felt between my fingers—that just clicked. It was my "gateway drug." From there, it evolved into the pliers, the plant-based resin, and the "Beauty from the Broken" pieces you see at RainbowRegalia today.

It turns out I’m quite good at making things, even if I’m still rubbish at drawing them.

Creativity as a Survival Tactic

I’ve mentioned before that I live with Fibromyalgia. Most days, it’s like living in a body that’s decided to stage a very quiet, very painful protest. The brain fog is real, the fatigue is heavy, and sometimes the world feels a bit too loud.

But when I’m locked away in my studio (spare bedroom), something shifts.

Creativity isn't just a hobby for me; it’s a way of talking back to the adversity. When my hands are busy with beads or I’m figuring out how to rescue a neglected bit of jewellery, the "fibro-noise" goes into the background. It’s good for the soul in a way that medicine isn't. It gives me a win on days when just getting dressed feels like an Olympic event.

The "I’m Not Creative" Lie

If you’re sitting there thinking, "That’s lovely for you, but I can’t even stick a stamp on straight," I’m calling your bluff.

The world is so much better now—I look at schools today and see everyone being encouraged to just try art, regardless of whether they’re the next Picasso. It’s brilliant. We’ve finally realised that the act of making is more important than the finished product.

So, here is my 49-year-old advice: Give it a go. String some beads. Paint a wall. Arrange your toast in a geometric pattern. It doesn’t have to be "good." It just has to be yours. It took me nearly five decades to find the thing that makes my brain stop buzzing, and I promise you, your niche is out there too.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some resin to pour and a body to negotiate with.

🥂

Creativity and fibromyalgia, art for chronic pain, RainbowRegalia blog, Pliers & Prosecco, Irish handmade jewellery, finding your creative niche in your 40s, Greystones artist, mental health and art, beadwork as therapy.