There is a peculiar beauty in what we call a "work in progress." It is not quite a painting, not yet a story, not yet a song, not fully a structure—whatever it is, it is more essence than execution. These pieces in flux exist in a twilight of creation, caught between the infinite possibilities of the idea and the sharp edges of the real. Today, on this Work in Progress Wednesday, I want to explore what it means to create under a veil, to shape something not in spite of its incompleteness, but because of it.
To create is to tolerate opacity...and perhaps for this reason I've chosen to leave out any suggestive imagery save the cover art in the interest of prompting you to wield the power of imagination as you read through this Sketch Blog.
We often mistake clarity for progress. We think that to move forward, we must know exactly where we’re going and what the destination looks like. But in reality, creative thought thrives in fog. When we set out to build something new—be it a novel, a painting, a product, a performance—we often begin not with a blueprint, but with a mood, a color, a whisper of a phrase. Something intangible. Something felt rather than seen.
The first version of any creative work is a rough sketch not just of the product, but of the mind that conceived it. That early draft, that half-finished sculpture, the scattered bullet points on a napkin—these are not failures of execution. They are necessary obscurities. They are the gestational cloud that surrounds a yet-unborn idea.
In this way, a work in progress is not a lesser version of the final product. It is a different animal entirely—alive with potential, humming with electricity. It is something not yet defined, which means it can be anything.
The Shape Beneath the Marble
Michelangelo once said he saw the angel in the marble and carved until he set him free. This quote has become a kind of creative gospel, repeated often, perhaps too easily. But consider what it really suggests: that there is something already present within the raw material, something hidden. The sculptor’s job is not to impose form, but to discover it. In this view, the artist is a medium, a translator, a guide.
In every work in progress, there is an angel buried in marble. And what makes this process beautiful—and at times excruciating—is that we don’t always know what kind of angel we’re unearthing. We think we’re making a comedy, and it reveals itself as a tragedy. We believe we’re writing a love letter, but it becomes a goodbye. The story shifts under our hands. The paint bleeds differently than we imagined. The melody refuses to go where we push it.
This unpredictability is not a flaw. It is the essence of creative thought.
Making Peace with the Fog
One of the greatest challenges in any creative discipline is learning to trust yourself when you don’t yet know what you're making. It feels counterintuitive. We are taught to plan, to outline, to define our goals in advance. But this is not how art—true, soul-tingling art—is made. It is not how invention works. It is not how breakthroughs occur.
Great work begins with questions, not answers.
What if this character isn’t who I think they are? What if this brushstroke is the beginning of a new direction? What if the silence between the notes is more important than the melody itself?
These questions do not clarify. They complicate. They dissolve what little we thought we knew about the project. But in doing so, they illuminate a deeper truth: that all creativity is, by its nature, emergent. It rises up from the unknown, not the known. And so we must make peace with the fog and even learn to love it.
Refinement as Revelation
Eventually, of course, the work demands clarity. We cannot stay in the mist forever. Refinement becomes necessary—not as a betrayal of the process, but as its natural continuation. This is where structure meets spirit, where we sand the edges and adjust the balance and replace the scaffolding with solid beams.
But even here, we must tread carefully. Refinement should not be an act of control, but of revelation. We are not forcing the work to conform to our expectations—we are listening, shaping, coaxing the form that wants to emerge. We are not God imposing order on chaos. We are gardeners clearing away what does not belong so that the living thing can grow.
The opacity of the early stages gives way to translucent outlines. Patterns emerge. Themes begin to speak their names. But the mystery never entirely vanishes. And perhaps it shouldn’t. If a work is to feel alive, it must contain a trace of its own becoming.
The WIP as a Mirror
One of the most humbling aspects of working on something unfinished is the way it reflects our inner state. A messy draft mirrors our doubts. A half-completed sculpture shows us our own unfinished thoughts. It can be hard to look directly at a work in progress because it forces us to confront the fact that we, too, are works in progress. We are shaping ourselves as much as we shape the thing we’re making.
And this, in the end, is why we return to the studio, the page, the canvas. Not just to make art, but to become it. Not just to finish something, but to understand ourselves more fully through the act of finishing. The work refines us, even as we refine the work.
Embracing the Unfinished
There is something radical in choosing to share your work before it is “ready.” To show your notes, your sketches, your half-thoughts. But it is also deeply human. We do not live our lives as finished masterpieces. We stumble. We change our minds. We circle back. And if art is to reflect life, then it too must embrace the provisional, the half-formed, the uncertain.
So today, on this Work in Progress Wednesday, celebrate the opacity. Rejoice in the ambiguity. Trust the shape that is not yet visible, and the voice that is still learning its tone.
Because in every stroke, every false start, every revision and reimagining, you are not just creating a piece of work. You are uncovering the shape of your own creative soul.
Would you like this edited for a particular medium (e.g., blog post, newsletter, Instagram caption) or accompanied by visuals?
