7/2/2025 9:46:25 AM
The act of creating art can be deeply personal—quiet, focused, and often solitary. But sometimes, that solitude turns into isolation. You find yourself stuck on a piece that’s almost working… but not quite. You stare at it, tweak a few things, but can’t put your finger on what’s off. There’s no one to bounce ideas off. No feedback. No fresh eyes. Just you, in your own head, circling the same questions.
Sound familiar?
I’ve been there many times. What’s helped me most is getting out into the art community. Whether it’s through joining an art association, attending local gallery openings, taking a workshop, or simply chatting with other artists at an art fair—I always walk away re-energized, inspired, and clearer in my thinking.
Other artists see things differently. They might notice a strength in your work you didn’t realize. Or gently point out where something feels off—and even better, offer a new way to approach it. These connections are invaluable. They remind you that you’re not creating in a vacuum and that the creative process doesn't have to be lonely.
One of the best things I ever did for my own growth was to start showing up. To classes. To critiques. To meet-ups. The more I engaged with other creatives, the more confident I felt—not only in my work but also in my identity as an artist.
So if you’re feeling stuck, uninspired, or just plain lonely in your art practice, reach out. Get involved. Surround yourself with people who get it. Art may begin alone, but it flourishes in community.
6/17/2025 2:01:45 PM
“If only I had more time in my day…”
I say it all the time. I have so many ideas, so much I want to create. Life is full and busy—family, home, pets, friends, and a full-time job. It’s a beautiful chaos, but it doesn’t always leave space for long, uninterrupted hours of painting.
Enter: the camera phone. What an absolute game-changer.
I take pictures constantly—breathtaking landscapes, an adorable child deep in thought, a perfect bloom, an inspiring piece of art in a museum. I snap moments that move me, freeze them in time, and tuck them away in my pocket for later. The accessibility of reference photos right at my fingertips has completely transformed how I make art.
Some artists insist on painting only from life, setting up a still life or standing at an easel outdoors with the scene unfolding before them. I admire that, and I do enjoy painting en plein air when I can. But if that were the only way I could create, I would hardly paint at all.
You see, I’m a regular person with responsibilities and a very full calendar. I can’t always drop everything to chase the perfect lighting or set up an elaborate still life. But I can scroll through my photo library during a quiet evening and be inspired to paint what fits my mood, my energy, or my current fascination. It gives me creative freedom and flexibility.
Back in college, things were different. I carried a film camera everywhere (yes, actual film!) and would set up scenes, pose my friends, and hope the images would turn out once developed. If I couldn’t photograph something, I’d scour magazines for references—cutting, pasting, and blending images to create the vision in my mind. I even worked in the art department’s reference room, tediously filing magazine clippings into labeled cabinets for other students to use. Believe me, it was not glamorous.
But that process taught me something important: inspiration is everywhere, and reference materials are tools—not rules. Today, when another artist asks if I paint from life, I say: “Absolutely.” I paint from my life. From all the moments I witness, the beauty I notice, and the things that stop me in my tracks. I just happen to carry those memories in my phone.
When I paint, I don’t simply copy a photo. I interpret it. I translate the memory with the colors I felt, the mood I remember, and the elements I want to emphasize—or even omit. It becomes something more than what was captured—a little more mine.
So yes, I still paint from life. I just happen to live a life where my creativity needs to fit into the in-between spaces. Thanks to a little tool in my pocket, those spaces are now wide open with possibilities.
