With all the craziness going on in our lives, I’ve been thinking about what it means to show up for your art. To show up when inspiration is hiding behind the couch. To show up when the world says “get a real job,” and you respond by raising your brushes like battle flags and whispering, “This IS the real job, Karen.”

Being an artist is not about waiting for divine inspiration while sipping tea in a sunbeam (although if that happens, heck yeah). It’s about diving into the mess. It’s about painting when you’re unsure. It’s about turning self-doubt into brush strokes and fear into something you can hang on a wall.

Those brushes in my hands? They’ve seen some things.
They’ve flung paint in accidental directions.
They’ve created beauty.
They’ve been used to stir coffee (don’t judge me).
They’ve been dropped, broken, chewed on (again—don’t judge me), and still—they keep showing up.

Just like me. No matter what is going on in my life and where I go, I will always return to my creativity. I may take a break, but I will always show up when it counts.

Because creativity isn’t about waiting for permission.
It’s about grabbing the tools you have, standing in your weird socks, and saying:

“Let’s make some freaking magic.”