My studio space is a labor of love and is something I had hoped for since the early days of my career. It’s a tribute to the power of believing in your dreams, no matter how big or small. It’s also a representation of how my life, art and business are deeply intertwined — with my deepest personal desires often shaping my professional ambitions. In fact, I have two big personal dreams I’m nurturing right now. It feels scary to share them, but I believe both will come to pass at the right time and I’m hoping they can be a source of inspiration and encouragement to you.
The first dream is that my husband and I would love to move my mother-in-law into a studio apartment on our property. We also wish to be a bit closer to my own parents so I can be there for them as well. I remember both of my grandparents living with us when I was younger, and my mom always cared for our elderly neighbors and friends. That stuck with me and made a huge impact, so it’s something I want to carry into my life so I can soak up the special moments with our parents as they enjoy their later years.
We also dream of having location freedom. We’ve always talked about having multiple short-term rental properties, and that’s something I’m hoping to bring to life in the near future. And if we’re really talking about big dreams, Italy is my favorite place in the world — there is something that ignites inside me when I experience even the smallest simple pleasures there — and has translated into my art and my life here in the U.S., and I would absolutely love to have a second home there someday.
Bringing my studio space to life has reminded me that where there’s a will, there’s a way. The dreams for my business are deeply intertwined with my ability to be more present with my parents and simultaneously have the ability to travel. Seemingly opposing dreams, but with the right circumstances, I believe both can be possible. When it comes to my artistic dreams, they have to do with making a greater positive impact. At the core, it’s about encouraging others.
I read a study by Dr. David Hawkins that stated that one person living and vibrating the energy of optimism and willingness to be nonjudgmental of others will counterbalance the negativity of 90,000 people who calibrate at the lower weakening levels. My hope is that the work I’m putting into the world can serve as a visual reminder to focus on flourishing and seeing the beauty and magic in the present moment, and that the wild abundance that exists in nature is also accessible to us.
Arriving at this conclusion about the purpose of my work has taken a lot of twists and turns — some professional, some personal, but all intertwined in some way.
I recently realized that the biggest disappointments I’ve had are the ones that I didn’t take a chance on. I skipped out on a semester abroad in Florence; I passed up a gallery job in Rome; I set my art aside for a few years after a failed gallery show. There were times in my life when I didn’t get the exact outcome I was hoping for, so I simply stopped trying. I know as long as I’m living, I’ll be experiencing disappointment on some level. If I’m honest, I think that happens daily on micro levels. But persevering, despite what is happening around me, has become really important to me.
During graduate school, I took the time to study the power of infusing passion into your work and what it takes to meet your dreams. A big part of it was being willing to face failure and rejection head on — but continue the course. I believe that the relentless, and sometimes delusional, pursuit of our dreams is not only necessary but key to arriving at their doorstep. I’m inspired by illustrators and authors like Beatrix Potter and Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss) who persisted despite being rejected over and over again, eventually gaining success. I’ve experienced this in my own life as well. Art licensing submissions, project proposals, dream collaborations — the more I seek out, the more opportunities there are. So, I’m seeking out rejection because it means I’m that much closer to my next success.
And, honestly, because I have a lot of different creative interests, I have experienced a lot of failure. There have been many moments in my career where I felt like an imposter and wanted to give up on myself, my art, and my business. But then, there was a moment in time a couple of years back when everything felt like it finally started to click. My logo, print, and website design processes were landing well with all of my clients. My surface pattern designs were coming to life just as I envisioned. And my hand lettering and botanical art were flowing naturally from my fingertips.
I don’t exactly know what caused things to turn around. Maybe all the failures led me to exactly where I should be. Looking back now, I believe it meant that I had finally put in my hours in each of my areas of practice. The hours of failure, the hours of resilience, the hours of hard work. It all brought me to a place where I could truly nurture my multidisciplinary talents — not only my artwork, but the branding and web work that I do for my clients, too. I felt that I could truly bring to life something I was proud of in any area of my work and, in order for me to arrive here, it meant questioning my abilities and overcoming setbacks for the last 20 years. It wasn’t the most comfortable situation, but it was worth it.
Now I’m at this crossroads where I will need to let go of some of the work I do in order to really pour myself into my biggest goals and dreams. Letting go of the work means being willing and able to hire other creatives and creating repeatable systems for those who will take over — a risk that could have setbacks and challenges along the way. But I’ve always been curious and I’m constantly learning. This discipline of curiosity and willingness to learn new things has brought me to where I am today, and I know it will carry me through this next stage of life and business, too.
There was a time in my life, around age 30, where I felt I could continue down the path I was headed, or I could invest in my future. I felt a divine nudge and the following phrase became my compass: “temporary grief, for long-term relief.” I realized that in order to gain momentum in any area of my life — health, relationships, creativity, work — I needed to put in a little effort in order to achieve gain. Sometimes that meant that I needed to set aside something that I was currently doing, and that mantra became something that got me through many challenges throughout my 30s. I feel a different mantra coming on now in my 40s.
When I was in fifth grade, my teacher bought me and my classmates each a different book and wrote personal notes to each of us at the end of the year. Inside mine she wrote: “Keep spreading the light.” That’s the mantra that keeps popping into my head and my heart at this stage of life. I have this vision of welcoming ladies into my home and gathering around an island in my kitchen. It’s something that I saw 10 years ago in a dream and while there was nothing too exciting about it from a visual standpoint, the emotions that I had during the dream — and the idiosyncrasies I’ve experienced since then, relating to this moment — tell me that there is something more to it.
I see the future of my studio and creative work heading in two directions — being available to mentor creatives who are seeking to finally lean into what they love to do and believe in themselves, while simultaneously creating art, designs and illustrations that make the world a better place. I was recently having a coffee with a friend, and we were talking about where we see our art going. I said, “I can’t always wrap people in a warm hug, but my art can.” And that is something I plan to lean into in really big ways in the future.
I’ve been studying biophilic design principles and I’m more aware that my desire to paint and draw from nature comes directly from the way it makes us feel. Images of nature are healing and literally decrease stress and anxiety. So, I’ve made it my mission, especially in today’s fast-paced world, to seek moments of presence through my artwork. I also look to the wild abundance in nature and can see how that beauty and abundance are also available to us. That’s something I’m deeply interested in and will be leaning into in the future. My studio gives me the time and space to do just that.
But this place — this creative haven of mine — is more than just a studio. It’s an integral part of my personal and professional story.
My Symphony
by William Henry Channing
To live content with small means.
To seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion.
To be worthy not respectable,
and wealthy not rich.
To study hard, think quietly, talk gently,
act frankly, to listen to stars, birds, babes,
and sages with open heart, to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never.
In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common.
This is to be my symphony.
In 2017 my husband and I decided to get married and buy a house together. Before that, I was living in a three-story twin in the heart of our local town, Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. We were looking for something that would support my business and the next phase of our life together; but more importantly, we were looking for a place we could dream and grow together. A friend of mine was moving, and I loved her sweet home. They poured a lot of love into it. So, she walked us through before they listed the home. My husband and I instantly fell in love with it. It was everything we both wanted, with just one exception — there was no space for my studio. But it had so much potential, and it just felt right.
I suggested taking over the small pole barn and my husband thought it made more sense to carve one bay of the garage out for my studio space. Getting the home had some twists and turns, but in the end, it was meant to be and he got to work, along with his uncles, quickly after we moved in. We moved in May of 2017 and for the next four months, he was creating the studio space while I was planning our backyard wedding. By the time we got married in September, the office was fully built and I was already at work in the space.
It felt surreal when I sat down to work for the first time in my own custom-hand-built studio space, and it still makes me emotional thinking about how it all came to be. This vision of what was possible started back in 2005. When I first got out of college, I stepped into a local designer’s backyard studio and glimpsed the future of my own workspace. It was a perfect blend of professional functionality and personal creativity, igniting a dream of my own. Seeing the space showed me what was possible.
Today, my backyard studio in Phoenixville is the embodiment of that vision, where strategic design meets artistic freedom. It’s a balance of professional design work and the joy of artistic creation, surrounded by pieces that inspire and personal touches that speak to my journey.
Here, web and tech work require a focused desk setup, while painting and creative endeavors call for the comfort of my grandparents’ reupholstered couches. There is a space for my kids to create, my dogs to relax, and always a place for my husband. Every corner of this studio is thoughtfully designed to kindle creativity and productivity. It’s where I get to create designs and art that resonate with others, making their spaces just as inspiring and personal.
At this time in my life, with two young daughters, without this space to create I don’t think my business would be the same. Our home is very small and my practice is very big. Creating space for ideation and dreaming has always been important to me, even as a young child. So having this space means that I am dedicated to this dream. That I honor it and trust it.
Which brings me to a close. Have you ever read What Do You Do With An Idea? It’s a children’s book that articulates this so beautifully. I see my work and my studio as a growing idea that together has allowed me the space and time to create. I am deeply inspired when I step into this space; from the treasures that were my grandparents’ belongings, to the little pieces of nature I have carefully tucked away, and the book that was given to me by my fifth grade teacher, each corner of my space is filled with objects of meaning and it serves as a daily reminder to focus on the good, and bring to life the work that will make a positive impact in this world. To keep spreading the light.
