For me, art always begins with a moment. A glimpse of something simple — a tree swaying in the breeze, a flower blooming beside the sidewalk, or a quirky scene I catch while walking my dog. These are the sparks that light the creative fire.
Usually, it starts with a photo. When something catches my eye, I snap a quick picture on my phone — not always thinking too hard about it, just trusting that the image might be something I’ll want to return to. It could be anything: the shape of a branch, the color of a flower, or even the way the light falls across a path. These little moments have a way of sticking with me.
Once I’m back in my space, I go through the photos and pick one that feels right — the one that speaks the loudest. From there, I start sketching. It’s not about perfection in the beginning; it’s about getting the idea out. I sketch loosely and let the image take shape on paper. Sometimes, what I end up with looks quite different from the original photo, and that’s okay. It’s just the starting point.
After the sketch comes the slow, meditative part of my process – the painting. I spend months on a single piece, letting it evolve over time. I add tiny details as I go, bits and pieces from things l’ve seen during the month. A donut I saw in a cafe window. A cat lounging in the sun. A hot air balloon drifting through the sky.
Maybe a playful pup that reminds me of my own. These little additions are like souvenirs from my everyday life, stitched into the artwork like memories.
Each painting becomes a kind of visual diary – rooted in nature, layered with whimsy, and filled with the quiet moments that make life feel magical. That’s how I plan and sketch new art ideas: by noticing, collecting, and creating slowly, with care.
