When Racing Thoughts Meet Flowing Paint
Living with ADHD means my brain rarely sits still. Ideas cascade faster than I can capture them. Focus feels like trying to hold water in cupped hands. Yet somehow, watercolour painting—perhaps the most uncontrollable, patience-demanding medium—has become my greatest ally in finding moments of calm.
This is the paradox I live with as a neurodivergent artist: the medium that requires the most patience is the one that teaches me how to be present.
Why Watercolour Chose Me (Not the Other Way Around)
I didn't choose watercolour because it suited my ADHD. I was drawn to it despite knowing it would challenge everything my brain naturally does. Watercolour demands:
- Patience — waiting for washes to dry
- Presence — one wrong move changes everything
- Acceptance — the paint does what it wants
- Trust in process — you can't force the outcome
Everything ADHD makes difficult.
But that's precisely why it works. Watercolour doesn't let me rush. It forces me into the present moment because if I'm thinking three steps ahead while the paper is still wet, I've already lost control.
The ADHD Advantage in Art
Here's what most people don't talk about: ADHD isn't just a deficit. It comes with gifts that make me a better artist.
Hyperfocus
When I'm painting at Carshalton Ponds or capturing the golden light over Epsom Downs, I can enter a state of complete absorption. Hours pass like minutes. The world narrows to brush, water, and paper. This isn't concentration—this is hyperfocus, and it's glorious.
Seeing Details Others Miss
ADHD brains notice everything. The way afternoon light catches a Victorian lamppost in Grove Park. The exact shade of moss on old brickwork. The pattern of ripples where a moorhen has just dived. These details others walk past—they're what make my paintings feel alive.
Embracing Creative Chaos
Watercolour is inherently unpredictable. The pigment blooms where it wants. Water pools in unexpected places. Most artists fight this. I've learned to welcome the chaos—because my brain already operates there. When the paint does something unplanned, I don't see a mistake. I see possibility.
Techniques That Help
Painting with ADHD requires strategies. Here's what works for me:
1. Small Time Blocks
I work in focused 25-minute sessions (Pomodoro technique). One wash. One area. Then a break. This matches my natural attention rhythm instead of fighting it.
2. Limited Palette
Too many colour choices = decision paralysis. I work with just 5-6 colours per painting. Less choice = more flow.
3. Plein Air Painting
Painting outdoors at Carshalton locations gives me:
- A time limit (weather, light changes)
- Sensory input that keeps me engaged
- Movement (I can stand, shift position)
- No distractions from home
4. Embracing "Good Enough"
ADHD perfectionism is real. I've learned that a finished painting is better than a perfect one. Sometimes I have to physically put down the brush and walk away.
Watercolour as Meditation
I used to think meditation meant sitting still with an empty mind. That never worked for me. But painting? That's my meditation.
When I'm painting Carshalton Ponds at sunrise, watching watercolour bloom across wet paper, my racing thoughts slow. Not because I'm trying to empty my mind—but because I'm fully present with what's in front of me.
The brush becomes an anchor. The colours become breath. The paper becomes now.
Art Therapy for ADHD
While I'm not an art therapist, I've experienced firsthand how watercolour serves as art therapy for my ADHD:
- Emotional regulation — painting helps process feelings I can't put into words
- Stress reduction — focus on technique quiets anxiety
- Sense of accomplishment — completing a painting fights ADHD-related low self-esteem
- Mindful practice — brings me into the present moment
For Fellow Neurodivergent Artists
If you're reading this and thinking "I could never do watercolour, I don't have patience"—I understand. I didn't have patience either.
Watercolour taught me patience. Not through force, but through consequence. Rush the wet-on-wet wash? It muddles. Skip the waiting? Colours bleed where they shouldn't. The medium itself is the teacher.
And here's the secret: ADHD and watercolour are both about learning to let go of control.
Tips for Starting:
- Start small — postcard-sized paintings, 20-minute sessions
- Embrace mistakes — they're not failures, they're learning
- Paint what interests you — hyperfocus is your superpower, use it
- Work outdoors when possible — movement and sensory input help
- Don't compare — your ADHD brain sees the world differently, and that's your gift
The Art of Slow in a Fast Mind
My painting practice has taught me something unexpected: slowness isn't about moving slowly—it's about being fully present with what you're doing.
My mind still races. My thoughts still jump. But when I'm painting, when I'm watching pigment spread across wet paper, when I'm mixing the exact blue-grey of morning fog over Carshalton—in those moments, I'm not fighting my ADHD.
I'm channelling it.
Finding Your Own Calm
Watercolour might not be your medium. That's okay. But I believe every neurodivergent person deserves to find their own form of creative calm—that activity where your racing mind becomes focused energy instead of scattered chaos.
For me, it's watercolour at Carshalton Ponds at dawn. For you, it might be:
- Digital art with unlimited undo
- Photography where hyperfocus becomes asset
- Pottery where tactile feedback grounds you
- Writing where your tangential thoughts become narrative
The medium matters less than finding the practice that meets you where you are.
View My ADHD-Informed Work
Many of my paintings—especially the Carshalton and South London landscapes—are products of this ADHD-watercolour dialogue. The way I capture fleeting light, the attention to small details, the acceptance of organic flow—these are all shaped by my neurodivergent way of seeing.
You can explore this work in my South London Collection or read more about my creative process in my blog.
Final Thought: Racing Thoughts, Flowing Paint
ADHD doesn't go away when I paint. My thoughts still race. I still get distracted. I still struggle with patience.
But watercolour has taught me that calm isn't the absence of motion—it's finding flow within it.
My racing thoughts become the energy that drives my brush. My hyperattention to detail becomes my artistic voice. My inability to control everything becomes my willingness to let the paint be itself.
This is what ADHD and watercolour have taught me: sometimes the things that challenge us most become our greatest teachers.
— Simon Robin Stephens, watercolour artist living and working with ADHD in Carshalton, Surrey