How To Live Like A Wild Artist

My heart stopped when I saw it.

How could I have lived in this house for the past five months and never known it was even there?

But sure enough, it was. Tucked under the shelf.

A bathroom scale.

Oh boy.

When I moved to France, I became what you might call a Wild Woman.

And here’s the part no one tells you—this is exactly what can happen when an artist finally steps out of structure and into space.

I’m living in a small French village, in a stone house that feels like it’s been holding stories for centuries. Some days are quiet. Slower than I’m used to. The kind of quiet that can feel unsettling… until it doesn’t.

Every artist dreams of escaping somewhere like this to focus on the work, don’t they? And for a while, I told myself that’s exactly what I was here to do.

In my “real life,” I’ve always been pretty regimented. Because one thing I’ve learned from working with world-class artists for so many years is the power of discipline.

So I arrived with a plan. A long list of creative projects. A structure.

But a funny thing happened in the absence of noise.

Instead of becoming more disciplined, I went feral instead.

Feral, savage, uncontrollable… WILD!

Instead of my structured routine of getting up with the sun and going to bed early, I go to bed whenever I damn well feel like it. I even find myself taking naps in the middle of the day.

Naps! Me!

I eat what I want, when I want. My usual rules out the window. I mean, this is France after all.

WILD!

And the work?

That’s the most surprising part.

Rather than sticking to the rigorous schedule I created, I now I work when I want to.

Who works like that and actually accomplishes anything?

Me, as it turns out.

I’ve slipped into a different tempo. Not the one I planned, but one that feels… honest. I’m still creating. Still moving forward. Still building. But it’s coming from somewhere else.

But now there’s also a deeper kind of focus. A different kind of commitment. One that isn’t forced.

I’m accomplishing what matters. I’m making meaningful connections. And I’m enjoying the process in a way I didn’t expect.

France is delicious in every sense of the word and I’m licking the spoon of this experience.

But the presence of that bathroom scale put a screeching halt to all of it.

Now is the time of reckoning.

Can I really trust this rhythm?

When I came here, I told myself this would be the summer I hit my Magic Number. You know the one. The number on the scale that somehow got lodged in your brain years ago and decided to stay there.

Funny how we do that, isn’t it?

So when I found that scale peeking out from under the shelf, I panicked.

I’ve been living differently. Eating differently. Moving through my days without structure or restraint.

Surely, this is a recipe for disaster.

I stepped on the scale and closed my eyes.

Who am I to think I can move through life at my own rhythm?

But when I looked down…

There it was.

My Magic Number.

Isn’t that wild?

And it made me wonder—

What if the structure we cling to isn’t what holds everything together?

What if the rhythm you’ve been resisting is the one your work has been waiting for?

What if you trusted yourself just a little more?

So I’ll ask you:

Are you ready to let go, trust your instincts, and become a little more wild in your work?

To listen for your own rhythm—and follow it?

Written by Crista Cloutier, artist mentor + founder of The Working Artist. (learn more about Crista here)