Why I Think Hope Is the Core of Creativity
As a freelance illustrator living in Perth, I’ve come to realise that hope quietly fuels everything I do. It’s not always the first word people associate with creativity — we talk more about talent, inspiration, or discipline — but underneath it all, there’s this steady heartbeat of hope that keeps artists going.
Hope is what makes us pick up the pencil again after a rough day. It’s what helps us believe that our stories, drawings, or ideas might mean something to someone else. Without hope, creativity loses its spark.
Hope Starts with the Blank Page
Every time I open a new Procreate canvas, I’m starting with possibility. That glowing blank space can be intimidating — but it’s also filled with hope. Hope that an idea will grow, that colour and line will come together, that something new will exist where nothing existed before.
It’s such a simple act, really — to begin. But beginning is always an act of belief. We don’t know how the piece will turn out, but we start anyway. That’s hope in action.
Hope Keeps Us Experimenting
Creativity isn’t a straight line. There are false starts, messy drafts, and layers you’ll delete and redo ten times. Hope is what helps us push through that process. It’s the quiet voice saying, “Keep going — you’re getting closer.”
When I’m testing brushes, adjusting colours, or reworking a character’s expression in Procreate, I’m guided by the belief that the next version will be better — or at least that I’ll learn something along the way. Every creative experiment is built on the hope that we can discover something new.
Hope Connects Us to Other people
Art is an act of sharing. Every illustration, every story is a message to someone out there — a child, a reader, a dreamer. When we create, we’re saying, “Here’s how I see the world. Do you see it too?”
For me, especially in children’s illustration, hope takes the form of connection. I draw because I believe stories can comfort, encourage, and inspire. I believe a child might see my work and feel seen themselves — or imagine a brighter, kinder world.
That belief — that art can make a difference, even in small ways — is pure hope.
Hope Helps Us Overcome Creative Fear
Every artist knows the fear that creeps in sometimes: What if I’m not good enough? What if this idea isn’t worth sharing? Hope is what answers those doubts. It reminds us that progress matters more than perfection, that joy matters more than judgement.
Whenever I feel stuck, I remind myself that hope isn’t about knowing the outcome. It’s about trusting the journey — trusting that the act of creating will lead me somewhere meaningful.
Hope Is Contagious
The beautiful thing about hope is that it spreads. When you share your art — even imperfectly — it can inspire someone else to start. Maybe a teacher prints out a colouring page, a parent reads your picture book aloud, or another artist sees your sketch and feels brave enough to make their own.
Creativity has a ripple effect, and hope is at the centre of that. Every piece of art carries the quiet message: “Look, I made this — maybe you can too.”
and then
Hope isn’t loud or flashy. It’s the steady undercurrent that makes creativity possible. It helps us begin, experiment, share, and keep going, even when things feel uncertain.
For me, hope is the reason I draw. It’s the reason I write stories for children, share free resources, and post my art online. It’s the belief that creativity — in all its messy, joyful, imperfect glory — still matters.
Because at its heart, every creative act says the same thing: I believe in what could be.
Hey, there! I’m Jasmine Berry, a freelance illustrator based in sunny Perth, Western Australia. Most days you’ll find me sketching away on my iPad or surrounded by pencils and cats, chasing new ideas. I like to think of myself as eternally optimistic—always seeing the fun, the colour, and the possibility in every project I take on. Send me a message if you would like to collaborate on a project.