This isn’t a course.
It’s not a challenge.
It’s not a productivity hack.
This is a quiet return.
To creativity.
To slowness.
To a part of yourself that maybe got lost in all the shoulds.
I’m not sharing or documenting this because I have a perfect process.
I’m starting this because I believe — deeply — that making art should feel like something good for your soul.
Not something with rigid expectations.
Not something you need permission for.
Not something you only do when the house is clean and all the emails are answered.
This space — this journal, these rituals, this little unfolding — is for anyone who wants to spend a day, a week, a lifetime creating… and actually feel good about it.
Even if the painting is terrible.
Even if the colours mud up.
Even if the beautiful idea in your head ends up a bit… ugly on the page.
Because here’s the thing:
The good paintings?
They don’t come first.
They don’t come fast.
There might be a dozen — maybe a hundred — strange or messy or “meh” paintings between you and the one that stops you in your tracks.
The one that feels like it came from some beautiful, unknowable part of you.
And here’s something else I believe — something I hope you can trust, too:
You are capable of creating something the world has never seen before.
Something that couldn’t have come — and will never come — from anyone else but you.
When you truly give in to the process, when you let yourself make without apology or performance, your work carries that kind of truth.
And art made from that place?
It can’t be forgotten.
It can’t be copied.
It can’t be unseen.
And the only way to get to something true — and unforgettable — is to keep showing up.
Without expectation.
Without a plan.
Without needing it to be anything more than what it is.
I want to help people slow down.
To paint with intention — but not agenda.
To find beauty and joy in the act of making — even in the awful paintings, the half-finished drawings, the muddled first drafts.
Not just the result.
These are my rituals.
My slow starts.
My easing in.
My beliefs.
I’m going to pass them on to you — as a way to slow down, to be more reasonable about what it takes to create consistently, and to celebrate the small, quiet milestones that shape your practice.
That creating is a worthy way to spend a day.
That softness is strength.
That slowness is sacred.
And that you — whether you’ve made art for years or haven’t touched a brush since school — are welcome here.
There’s no rush.
No test.
No right way.
Just this moment.
And the next.
Welcome!
