Burnout, Blank Canvases, and the Mockup That Got Me Creating Again

Burnout, Blank Canvases, and the Mockup That Got Me Creating Again

There was a time I couldn’t open Photoshop without a sigh.

Designing felt like a chore. The joy was gone. Everything I made looked like a copy of a copy of a copy. I wasn’t just creatively stuck — I was burnt out, and I didn’t even realize it until I opened a blank PSD and stared at it for 45 minutes without touching a single layer.

If you’re in the design world — whether that’s branding, POD, or packaging — you know the burnout I’m talking about. The pressure to pump out fresh content, keep up with trends, sell with style, and somehow not lose your voice in the chaos. It's exhausting.

At Banana, we build CGI mockups for a living. On paper, it sounds fun. We get to play with light, fabric textures, color palettes, and digital sets. But when you’re making hundreds of mockups that have to look “perfect” and convert for your customers — it starts to feel like you're designing with weights on your arms. That’s where I was.

Then something happened.

We had been ideating for our Arbor Collection — a nature-forward mockup set that was supposed to feel peaceful, unhurried, grounded. Just two garden chairs on a lawn at dawn. A gentle breeze. Nothing more.

It was simple. Almost too simple. But something about the brief cracked me open.

I started treating it less like a product shoot and more like a painting.

I played with the light — not studio light, but real light. Diffused morning glow slipping through imaginary clouds. I added the subtle shadow of a tree outside the frame. I obsessed over the placement of dew on a surface that most people wouldn’t even notice. It wasn’t about selling a mug anymore. It was about building a feeling.

And I was alive again.

The Arbor Collection became a turning point for me. It reminded me why I started building mockups in the first place — because I didn’t want to rely on mediocre tools. Because I wanted creatives to feel something when they dropped their design into a scene. And because I believe a good mockup isn’t just a container for a design — it’s part of the storytelling.

We released that collection, and within days, I got messages like:

“This looks like something from a high-end magazine.”

“It made my brand feel more expensive overnight.”

“I finally feel like I have visuals that match my vision.”

That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t the only one who needed that mockup. Creatives everywhere are tired. Tired of pretending stock mockups are “good enough.” Tired of designing for clicks instead of connection. Tired of feeling like their art has to squeeze into templates that don’t speak their language.

What got me out of burnout wasn’t a break. It was building something that mattered.

And if you’re reading this — if you’re knee-deep in client work, launching your 17th POD collection, or just staring at your laptop wondering if you even like design anymore — maybe what you need isn’t rest. Maybe you need to make something honest. Even if it’s just one mockup, one scene, one idea that brings you back to yourself.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

The most healing creative work usually doesn’t look productive at first.

Good design tools don’t just save time. They give permission.

You can’t fake joy. But you can build conditions where it has a shot.

The Arbor Collection taught me to trust the process again. Not because it sold well (it did), but because it felt real. And that feeling rippled into every new mockup I made after.

So, if you’re stuck — if you're scrolling, doubting, deleting more than you create — maybe the thing that gets you unstuck won’t be a podcast or a productivity hack. Maybe it’ll be one image. One scene. One mockup that feels so you, it reminds you why you ever cared in the first place.

Mine was made of grass, morning light, and two empty chairs.

What will yours look like?