If you've ever renovated a house or managed a software project, you know that everything is a bigger job than we think it will be. Every project takes longer, costs more, and contains more challenges than we imagine. 

Even though I know this, I still make the mistake of thinking "this time it will work out fine. This project will be easy." 

This week I've been consumed with the redesign of my Art Tribe membership website. We have a central hub where we share all the content with our members. It's a password-protected site that only they can access. Over time, the sheer number of courses, and interviews, and other content made the site quite difficult to navigate, and so we decided to redesign and restructure.

We started months ago, with sticky notes and the giant pinboard in my studio and we are now reaching the last stages of the project. On Monday our members will be able access the new hub. It's exciting and also terrifying - what if we're not ready? What if the tech fails? What if we've missed something obvious? 

Change is always like this. Uncomfortable; edgy; risky. As I said last week, it's always easier to stay exactly where we are. But I truly believe change and growth are also essential.  Just as the universe is constantly expanding, so are we. I am a different person than I was 4 years ago. I know more about how to run a membership site now. I think I can make it better and therefore I have to try. 

(By the way, this isn't an advert for Art Tribe as we're not currently accepting new members. But if you're interested in joining us, just add your name to the wait list here and I'll email you when we re-open the doors.)

I think the same applies to the art we make. We are always changing and growing and that change needs to be reflected in our work. Very often we get stuck because we don't recognise this. Let's say you've always painted florals. Perhaps you've been successful with those paintings - you're in galleries and you have regular collectors who love your work. But over time, you've noticed that you procrastinate more and more about going into the studio. There's just no joy in painting anymore.

In this situation, you might consider giving up and finding a new occupation, but I think this would be a huge mistake. Because you didn't fall out of love with painting - you just feel out of love with painting flowers. You've changed and now your art needs to change with you.

And because we never stop growing, I think we need to constantly assess what we are doing and ow it's making us feel. Does painting still spark excitement and joy for you? And if not, what would feel exciting? What do you secretly want to do? Which artists do you admire/envy? Why?

I firmly believe that if we shouldn't allow ourselves to stay in one place for too long. There are too many other shores to explore