Take a little respite from the news today and spend a few (virtual) minutes with me in my studio.
In the midst of so much unrest and suffering, it’s easy for artists to question whether what they’re doing matters. Painting a picture can seem insignificant compared to “real life.” I’m taking a stand to say that, not only does art matter, it is the real-est that we get in this life. Creating beauty and connection is what we’re here for, and figuring out your own you-est way to do that, in whatever medium and context, is your ultimate assignment.
So welcome to my sacred space. (Full disclosure: I tidied up a bit for you. 😬)
Thanks for visiting!
I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have this light-filled studio and to do this work. My first “studio” 20 years ago was a dark, spiderwebby corner of the garage, lit by one bare lightbulb, where I set up a discount drafting table and a shoebox-worth of supplies. I rarely used it — the space was super depressing, honestly — but it was important to me to carve out that corner and know that I could use it. It was a commitment I made to myself, and what I felt like I could get away with at the time.
Maybe that’s the best case I can make for the Possibilities Lab. Start where you are. Then take small steps in the direction your soul is tugging you. The road is not always smooth, but the view keeps getting better until you find yourself in a place more beautiful than you would have had the audacity to hope for. I wish this for all of us.
To learn more about the Possibilities Lab, click here. Registration is now open for February’s 4-week session and early-bird pricing runs through Jan 20. (Inaugurate your dreams!) ❤️Click here if you’re ready to sign up.
I’d love to field your questions about my studio space, my artwork, your artwork, or anything else that comes up. My goal as an art-loving human is summed up in these words I wrote on a whiteboard while still living in Oakland, four or five years ago. The whiteboard hasn’t found a place to hang in my Portland studio quite yet, but the words have remained on the board and in my heart.