On Awakening Creativity
New Beginnings in the Art Room
Like Spring, when the trees awaken and stretch from their winter rest—energy rising from deep within their roots to unfurl tender new leaves—I feel my creativity beginning to stir again after a long, quiet season.
For the past three years, I have been immersed in earning my Ph.D. It was a meaningful and necessary journey, but one that required me to set my creativity aside. It was not easy. I would pass by my studio and feel a pang in my heart seeing it still, neglected, waiting. And yet, I’ve come to believe there truly is a season for everything.
That time became my creative winter.
Just as trees draw their energy inward during the colder months, I, too, turned inward—into my mind, my soul, and my purpose. I spent long stretches reflecting: Why was I doing this at this stage of my life? How would this work serve others? That inward season ultimately led me to complete my research, finish my dissertation, and graduate. And in the quiet, it also revealed something essential: how deeply creativity is woven into who I am.
Working on my first potrait in 40+ years and the first time with oils.
Every now and then, I would steal away for small moments of creation—experimenting with painting a portrait without sketching first, or trying oil paint for the very first time. Those glimpses sustained me, but they also reminded me how much more I longed to create.
A 12” x 16” watercolor I did for a friend’s 60th birthday.
And now, with loose ends tied, taxes finished, and a new moon marking the sky—a beautiful symbol of new beginnings—I feel myself stepping into a new creative chapter.
I am returning to the joy of repairing and painting furniture, and I am beginning the Mastery Program at the Milan Art Institute. I don’t come to this with formal training—unless you count a seventh-grade art class and a single semester of drawing in college. My love for art began early, especially with watercolor, but when the opportunity arose to pursue it more seriously, I was gently steered toward more “practical” paths. So art was tucked away, something I once did, rather than something I lived.
Then came career, family, and the fullness of life—and still, the muse never left. She lingered quietly in the background, whispering, waiting.
With time—and, I hope, a bit of wisdom—I have come to recognize the natural rhythms and seasons of life. And now, I am finally ready to answer that call fully.
I would love for you to join me on this journey. My hope is not only to share what I create, but to inspire you to listen for your own creative voice. I’ll be sharing techniques, lessons learned (both successes and missteps), and the materials and tools I genuinely love.
And I would truly love to hear from you.
Do you feel that gentle pull to create? Have you ever set your creativity aside in pursuit of more practical things?
