Sitting in a frigid office, answering my hundredth customer service email of the day, it hit me: I had officially failed to become a full-time artist. I had spent years of my life and thousands of dollars obtaining a Master of Fine Arts degree, but somehow ended up as a customer service agent, making art “on the side,” which entailed nothing more than a few hours a month of uninspired sketching.
I wanted so badly to make a living from my art, and yet I couldn’t seem to turn my dreams into reality. When I finished grad school in 2013, I had all the technical skills I needed to make functional and sculptural art, but little understanding of how to price and sell my work.
After failed craft fairs, Etsy shops that somehow sold hundreds of products and still cost me money, and earning no profit from sales in museums and shops, I was done with art. Why, I wondered, would anyone endure the torture of trying to make a living from art when it felt so unattainable?
I threw out all my art supplies and considered my creative dreams to be the result of a youthful naivete and an unguided educational path. At the same time, my husband was feeling a similar discontent with post-school adult life. We were both looking for a way out of the unfulfilling office job, 40-hour-a-week, one-hour commute slog that we had somehow fallen into.
On a walk in the woods one day after too many strong cups of coffee at our local bakery, we went into a full-blown rant about how terrible our lives had become.
“Why don’t we just move to Thailand and be done with all this?” he said.
“Fine,” I said.
Five months later, we were packing our backpacks and leaving the country for the foreseeable future. After months of dreaming about becoming “digital nomads” as we watched so many people on YouTube share their experiences with moving to low-cost, traveler-friendly locations like Thailand, we both felt inspired to drop everything and start a new life.
When we landed in Thailand, I had no idea what kind of life was waiting for us. What I did know was that I finally had the time and space to re-evaluate my life and art from square one. With a few part-time online jobs to keep us afloat, I began the journey that would transform my life into something that I had only dreamed about as a hopeful college student.
I started by wiping my creative process slate clean. The medium I knew best was clay since I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains working in potter’s studios and taking classes at Penland School of Crafts. Clay was a medium that was comfortable for me, but in Thailand, there was no way I could access clay or a kiln since we wanted to be mobile and travel around the country. I knew I needed something portable, so I walked to a nearby art supply shop and bought some watercolor paints and paper.
Creating work with this new medium was so freeing for me. It took getting entirely outside of my pottery-centered environment to realize that I no longer enjoyed making pots. Clay felt like a medium that was chosen for me because of where I grew up and who I happened to live near as a child. Starting fresh with a new medium felt like breaking all the rules in the best possible way.
As I delved into the world of watercolor, I realized that watercolor is, well, hard. And it would be nice to practice painting without needing to buy so much expensive paper and paints only to watch them go to waste with my hideous experiments. This is when I discovered that there were people painting watercolors digitally on their iPads. No paper, no paints, just pixels and access to every color and texture imaginable. That was exactly what I needed—a way to experiment freely without the guilt of wasting expensive supplies.
In a half-abandoned mall in Chiang Mai, I bought my first iPad—a scratched screen and outdated software that marked the start of a new creative era.
I was astounded, and remain astounded in fact, by how freeing it can be to work digitally. As someone who grew up working with all kinds of traditional mediums and never considered anything digital to be “real art,” it blew me away to see how I could create watercolors, acrylics, block print and even gouache-style paintings on my iPad from anywhere in the world. This began a rabbit- hole of experimentation that finally helped me break into that mysterious territory that so many artists find elusive: their signature style.
I discovered hand lettering, pattern design and so many textures and techniques that define my style today. As I grew my body of work, I began selling my designs in print and digital form on print-on-demand sites, through art licensors and in my Etsy shop. At the same time, I began sharing my processes with other artists and designers around the world and discovered a whole community of traditional artists who loved working digitally.
I met block printers who wanted to play with composition ideas on their iPads before cutting a wood or linoleum block. I met needle artists who designed embroidery patterns using the processes I shared. And in a truly full-circle moment, I met clay artists who designed decals that they fired onto their pots. These artists helped me see how the division between the digital and traditional arts is not as clear as it used to be, and all artists can use digital tools to go deeper into their creative practice without using any “real” materials.
Through selling my art and teaching classes, I’ve somehow built a business that pays me
to do the work I love every day and employs women around the world who help me run my business. I still find it hard to believe that I now wake up in the morning, head out to my tiny- house art studio in the woods, and make art that pays the bills.
Today my work often starts on paper as I create all my own digital brushes and textures that give my artwork a gritty, imperfect feel. While I love working digitally, I never want to lose the tactile and authentic quality of my style, so I incorporate as much real-life grit as I can into each design. After creating some textures and brush shapes on paper using ink, I import those black and white designs onto my iPad to turn them into digital textures, which then get applied to my artwork as I build up layers of color and texture in my patterns and illustrations.
Much of my work takes the form of repeat patterns since that design format works well on a wide range of products, such as wallpaper, gift wrap, fabric, home decor and stationary. Creating a repeat pattern is like piecing together a puzzle, and as my pattern-making skills have improved, the complexity of my patterns has increased.
PATTERN STEP BY STEP
- Pattern layout | I typically start with a simple shape that serves as the overall layout for the pattern elements.
- Motif sketch | Then I sketch one or more motifs inside the layout, considering ways to make the shape varied so that the other motifs can fit into it like puzzle pieces.
- Motif moved to the corners | Next, I move the motif to the corners of the repeat square, so I can fill the remaining white space with a motif. This is the part of the process that makes the block “seamless” so it can be repeated endlessly on products.
- Inner motif sketched | I sketch the inner motif that will fit into the first one in a fluid manner.
- Inner motif inked | Then I begin the process of inking the motifs, starting with the one in the center. This is the point where I like to add some texture by either adding or removing stray marks, dots, and scuffs to give the pattern a gritty feel.
- Inked motif moved to the corners | Next, we repeat the process of moving the motif to the corners of the page to continue inking the design.
- Inner motif inked | Then the inner motif is inked and textured, and any final adjustments are made before adding color.
- Color applied | I color the design in a variety of palettes to determine the mood and style of the pattern.
- Check and adjust | Last, I check and assess the pattern by repeating the block four times, allowing me to check the overall flow of the pattern before sending it to print.
I love beginning a new collection or series and spending weeks or months submerging myself in the imagery, words, textures and colors around a theme. I also love creating digital brushes that mimic the look and feel of traditional mediums.
In my 2024 calendar, I used my gouache-style brushes to create a “home in seasons” series of illustrations for each month of the year. The calendar celebrates the decor, plant life, and everyday messes that we see in our homes as the months pass.
Most of my work is inspired by flora and fauna, so walking to my studio tucked away in the woods each day is the perfect way to begin my creative process. But as most freelance creatives realize at some point, no matter how perfect your studio is and how much art you’re selling, being an artist can be a lonely life. Unless you intentionally find a community to be part of, you spend most days in solitude. While I’m not complaining (I have two kids under five so solitude is not wasted on me), I can’t imagine doing this job without the community of creatives I’ve built.
In 2018, I started sharing my creative process online in classes and tutorials, and as my work and style grew, so did my audience of artists and designers around the world. Today I run a thriving membership called The Studio that helps creatives find their style and sell their work through classes, live sessions, interviews and trend challenges. These artsy and crafty folks are the reason I feel inspired to get up and make art each day, and I can’t wait to see what the future brings us as we grow the community and reach of The Studio.
I wish I could reassure that dejected artist who was sitting at a desk over ten years ago, convinced that giving up art was the only way to be happy again. She had no idea that with enough patience and persistence, she could find her style, her community, and a way to support her family with creative work. She thought that creativity was the problem when in the end, it was the way.
If you’d like to see a video demonstration of how I create my work from start to finish, head to lizkohlerbrown.com/wwc
