Have you ever felt like certain things came along right when they needed to? To help you move towards something new or teach you a lesson? That’s how I feel about painting. 

I like to call myself (well, in my head mostly) a recovering perfectionist. “Supposed to” has been a unit of measure for me the majority of my life. It has taken a lot of pain and hard lessons to let go of that mindset, but every day I move a bit further along. I grew up in a little Texas Panhandle town, with a love of drawing and making things with my hands. I was not like most people there. I had many interests and areas I could explore, but fortune led a teacher my way that suggested graphic design, and that was the path I took. I thought it would be the best of both worlds. The need for meticulous detail and assignments with a little bit of art thrown in. It’s been a very good match, and something I’ve enjoyed as a career for many years. But the desire for more creating poked and prodded at me. First book-making, then photography. Both were wonderful for a season or two, but there was still something missing. It didn’t fill my soul up. It left me wanting more. I couldn’t go back to drawing. The perfectionist in me had sucked all the joy out of that. But eventually, an opportunity to try out my painting skills got my attention, and I dove in head-first, not really knowing the wonderful things that were in store.

I truly believe painting came into my life when it did because I needed it. It was meant for me to find exactly when I did. I have learned so many things, met so many wonderful people… it has been such a gift in so many ways. How to trust my instincts, to let go of how things are ‘supposed to’ look, and not worry about ‘the rules’ or how other people are doing things. Painting has given me a safe space to learn who I am and to be myself. A freedom and joy I’ve never experienced before. I realize a lot of people will just say I paint pretty flowers. Some folks might even pick up something along the lines of ‘energy’ in my pieces. But in every painting, there are bits of me. There are layers of darkness, of hope, of dreams and fears. Layers of anxiety and prayers. Layers of pain and healing, of lessons learned. They teach me things when I’m willing to listen. And I couldn’t be more thankful for their presence in my life, and the opportunity to share them with others.