On Beauty, Becoming, & Saying Yes

In less than a month, I start my first in-person painting class. A small step, maybe, but one that feels significant. For me, this is a time where I’m choosing desire over scarcity, beauty over functionality, creation over fear, and expansion over smallness. It’s the start of a lifelong pursuit of expansion and an evolving conversation with the world.

I’m choosing desire over scarcity, beauty over functionality, creation over fear, and expansion over smallness.

For most of my life, my story was that I was “the writer,” not the artist. I told that story, and so did everyone around me. Art was something I admired from a distance—something to play with occasionally, dream about intermittently, and even long for—but never something I gave myself permission to pursue fully. When you believe the box you’ve put yourself in is real, it takes concerted effort to see yourself anywhere else. It’s not that one story is wrong, or even that we need to choose one over the other. It’s that there’s always the chance to move beyond, to expand.

I’ve spent years working in jobs that drained me, finding slips of time to sketch and paint, and imagine what a different, more intentionally creative and beautiful life might look like. Even when I tried, it always felt like I was circling the real thing without touching it.

Until now.

In less than a month, I’ll be stepping into a new chapter: dedicating real time, space, and energy to my art practice. And I’ll be real here: I don’t (yet) have a polished portfolio. I don’t really have a neatly package “origin story.” But what I do have is a deep desire to build something that lasts, and to live a life where beauty isn’t treated as an untouchable luxury, but as a necessary part of being fully human.

Growing up, beauty often felt frivolous, even a “bad” thing to admire (to say nothing of desiring it). It definitely wasn’t something to be invested in. Function, practicality, and security were the ruling mentality. That way of thinking sticks with me—even when I purchase clothing there’s a nagging question about “how durable?” and the thought that light colors are a no-go because they might show garden dirt or engine grease. But over time, I’ve come to believe that beauty isn’t frivolous. It’s vital. It’s a north star that lifts our gaze from the furrows in the dirt and reminds us that life is bigger, deeper, and more worthy of our attention than we sometimes even let ourselves dare to believe.

This belief is at the core of why I’m pursuing art more seriously now. I want to create work that feels alive: art that carries the marks of humanity, that invites you to slow down, to notice, to breathe a little deeper. Art that feels like an invitation to get grounded and feel beauty deep into your bones, even at a time when that beauty might seem scarce.

As I start on this path, I fully expect that a few themes will keep showing up because they shape not just my art, but how I see the world:

• The relationship between beauty and scarcity: Learning to choose beauty and abundance, even if we’ve been taught—directly or indirectly—that there isn’t ‘enough’ and that we ‘should’ focus on surviving—not thriving.
• The expanding self: Believing that personal growth isn’t selfish; it’s an important way of being in service to the world. If we want to thrive, we have to believe this, even if we’ve learned to stay small to stay safe.
• A deep respect for the natural world: Drawing inspiration from the shapes, moods, and textures that nature offers; I believe that nature is our truest luxury.
• Shifting identities: Honoring the discomfort and courage it takes to step into a new way of being; life is about expansion, and new experiences and challenges are the impetus for growth.

I’ll be documenting this journey here, on Instagram, and through deeper reflections in newsletter updates. Throughout, I’ll share what I’m learning, what’s surprising me, what’s frustrating me, and the small moments of magic along the way. It might not always be a tidy story or a fast track to deep epiphanies, but it will be real. And that’s what I’m in this for: I’m looking for interesting—not perfect. My hope is that this will build into something meaningful for both of us.

If you want to join me from the start, I’d love to have you here. You can sign up here to follow the story as it unfurls and get the first look at new works once they’re available.

Just putting this all into words makes this first step feel bigger than it did before. So maybe we do need that champagne bottle, after all! Here’s to beginnings—and to what we might build from them.