"I can't wait until I have my own apartment one day," I thought to myself. I wanted to put up a poster of every single cute aesthetic post I came across. I wanted walls that were my own. A space that felt like me. I wanted a place to come home to after a long day, and be able to feel like I'd finally found land after swimming around in the sea. For me, that special place to land was artwork. As a teenager, I created a digital folder in my computer titled "on my wall." Inside that folder I saved all the posters, graphics, art, and quotes I wanted to hang on my wall when I got older.
Today after getting home at 2pm from my part time job as an administrative assistant, I tried something new. I went to my bedroom where my cats sat on a heated blanket, and I spent 30 minutes, no phone, no nothing. Just me, the cats, and the walls of my bedroom. Sometimes we just need the reminder that we are in the middle of what we once wanted. We need to sit with our pets, or with a favorite cup of comfort beverage, or our favorite comfort show, and remind ourselves that what we want is already around you. You just have to remember to look. My Small Joy this month is this weird new Dr Pepper flavor I found. Did you know they made a blackberry Dr. Pepper? Well I didn't. At least not before yesterday. It's very strange… But somehow it works. I hope you never stop looking for the Small Joys. Until next time.  Every Month I Write a Letter For You.
0 Comments
The reality is that we see 100% of our own lives, and only 1% of everyone else's life. And if you could see the full picture of everyone's journeys, you would stop judging yours so harshly.
I walked into a bare-bones boutique that was on the verge of closing down.There were a handful of beautiful original paintings hanging on the walls, but most items had already been packed up into neat boxes just around the corner, tucked into a concealed closet.
My 26th birthday was about a week ago. And I’ve noticed that what brings me greater fulfillment than getting. . .
. . .is giving.
You see, our inner world only exists within the meaning we give it. So yes, maybe the needle of your compass points just a little bit askew. That’s nothing to be worried about. It’s just a little more information about you and who you are. Nothing bad about that.
How does our compass get thrown askew in the first place? I’ll give you a silly example...  There’s been a lot of changes lately. And… I’m not entirely mad about it.
This year has brought some crazy transitions and transformations into my life. Every second felt like a surprising reveal of what life has to offer me next. Quitting my job and spending a short sabbatical getting to know myself again, getting creative again, was one of my favorite experiences thus far in my life. Though all good things come to an end. Do they stay good though? I argue that they do. Three weeks ago, I started another full time job. But I argue that good things don't end or go away. They transform, and become something new. I’m finding time to create artwork in the small pockets of time I find throughout the day. I wanted to share some watercolor breakfast scenes I painted earlier this week.  A few days ago I hit publish on the collection page for my painting series Breathing. A series about five characters unapologetic in their zest for life, springing from the canvas in beautiful vibrant color. This series means the absolute world to me, and the initial icon image has become the logo for my business. The color scheme, created accidentally at the time, became the keystone in my branding.
Now, as I move forward towards my next series, I would be remiss not to explain how the concept of Breathing came to life. I had just taken a two year break from painting while working a 9-5, and now I was gearing back up again to make my art career a reality. I sat in my bedroom surrounded by tons of canvases, old sketchbooks, and drawings, a question of what happens next? looming over me. I knew I didn’t want to continue my old style, but had no idea what to do next. All I knew was I wanted to be an artist. I was burning alive with so many new ideas, and I felt spread thin and directionless. How was Breathing born? With one question, asked and answered.  One Saturday morning, six months ago, I went out for coffee with my partner along a strip of shops and boutiques in the Columbia, South Carolina area. The frigid January air bit against my skin, much too used to clear Florida skies. I was definitely warm blooded. We stopped inside a shop for me to buy my very first actually warm, pink puffer jacket.
Wow. Sometimes, I still felt like a tourist, having just arrived earlier that year. In fact, I had moved here, hundreds of miles from friends and family, specifically for my job. I had no idea that in just a number of months, I would be quitting on the spot, rebranding my art business, and setting out to figure out this one elusive idea: my target audience.
 Waking slowly in bed today, my mind is still full of memories, digesting the events of the weekend. A quote I once heard looms over my head. It goes something like this: Sometimes you’re in the messy middle, where your old self is gone, but your new self is not yet born. That’s where I feel I am at times. Growing. Slowly but surely. I recently completed three art markets where I watched various people walk home with my artwork. I absolutely enjoyed chatting with passerbyers about my art, giving out some free stickers, and just getting to know people in the area. |
Author
Archives
April 2025
|
RSS Feed