Muse in the Mirror: What Art Teaches Us About Leadership

For all of its gurus, sages, and geniuses, leadership is not a science. Leadership can be messy. It is often emotional, and the right answer is not always something you can check the math on beforehand. When I stand before a canvas or hear the first notes of a song, I think of leadership. 

Not the polished kind that shows up on stage, but the complicated, human version that begins in uncertainty. Leadership, like art, doesn’t start with control. It starts with the courage to keep going when you don’t know exactly what comes next.

The Brushstroke of Reinvention

Life changes without asking permission. I learned this the hard way when I woke from a coma, unsure if I would ever be the same. Would I be able to continue as the person I once was? The honest answer was no. Life had shifted, and I had to shift with it.

Physically, I was slower and weaker. But mentally, I became sharper and more ambitious. That contrast taught me something important. Sometimes loss opens up new strength. A small crack can reveal an entirely new way of seeing. The Japanese art known as Kintsugi values imperfection. It honors broken things by rejoining their pieces with gold, transforming cracks into shimmering detail, and infusing typically discarded items with flawless beauty. The art teaches that every moment is a lesson in unique histories, making us stronger and our life journey more meaningful.

Vulnerability as Teacher

Toward the end of his life, Henri Matisse was not physically able to sculpt or paint as he once did, but he still had art inside of him. Matisse picked up a pair of scissors and created some of his most memorable pieces in a new medium.

My vulnerability became my teacher. It pushed me to let go of pride and try again with a different approach. Leadership often makes us believe we need to be invincible, but the truth is that people connect with what is real.

I started shaping my work and passions in new ways, turning them into something the market could value. Each failure wasn’t a dead end; it forced me to find new ways to express my best self. 

Becoming My Own Muse

Artists often wait for inspiration to strike. I had to learn to be my own source of inspiration. I gave myself room to fail, to restart, and to keep going until I found what worked. That same patience is essential in leadership.

It requires a willingness to stop and look at yourself honestly. Executive presence isn’t a mask you put on. It’s built through small, steady choices that show resilience, empathy, and vision.

What the Arts Teach Leaders

The habits of artists carry over to leadership in practical ways:

  • Pauses matter. Just as music needs silence, leaders need rest. Without it, everything blurs together.

  • First attempts will be rough. Every sketch is awkward at the start. Progress requires risking imperfection.

  • Revision is the rule. Nothing great is finished in one pass. Leaders, too, must be open to refining and adjusting.

  • Reflection builds clarity. Artists return to their canvas again and again. Leaders need the same kind of self-check to stay aligned.

No leader can control everything. I’ve found that the strongest leadership manifests when you work with what life gives you and find new meaning in it. I don’t look back, wishing I could be exactly who I was before the coma. I look forward, aware that each failure is a lesson and each reinvention an opportunity to grow.

I became my own muse. You can too, if you’re willing to look in the mirror and accept the imperfect, unfinished version of yourself as the place where leadership truly begins.