Paying Attention to What Endures

It’s only the second week back in the studio, and already the year hasn’t unfolded quite the way I planned.

I began January with fresh routines and a new planner, only to have family illness quickly disrupt those plans. I’m learning, again, how much flexibility is part of staying with a creative life. White-out helps. So does letting go of perfection.

Even with the disruption, I’ve been in the studio, laying down early layers on new paintings and keeping my sketchbook practice alive in quieter ways. Alongside painting, I’ve also been spending more time on the ecommerce side of my art practice, which requires a different kind of focus and energy. Slowly, I’m beginning to see the results of that work.

After more than twenty years as a working artist, I know that I can sell paintings and prints. The challenge at this stage is not whether the work is viable, but whether it’s being seen by enough people to form new relationships with collectors. Increasing the visibility of my artwork has become a necessary part of sustaining my studio.

Understanding this has helped me move away from overly personal interpretations of slow growth. Rather than assuming there’s something wrong with the work itself, the photos, or the website, I’m grounding my expectations in broader industry patterns and focusing on connection rather than perfection. I already have proof of concept. The work resonates. The task now is connecting it with more people who might feel that resonance too.

There is some cognitive dissonance in relying on online platforms that don’t fully align with my values, while also recognizing that they currently play a role in supporting the financial sustainability of my practice. For now, I’m living inside that paradox. Over time, I hope to continue developing strategies that reduce dependence on any single platform, while still allowing the work to circulate.

One of the biggest shifts I’ve made recently is allowing myself to reuse and revisit past work. For years, I felt pressure to only share new images. In today’s crowded online environment, that approach isn’t always sustainable. Most people see only a small fraction of what’s shared, and repeated exposure is often what allows artwork to truly register.

Revisiting older work has also reminded me of how much I’ve made over time. Letting those images circulate again feels less like repetition and more like stewardship. It has also given me the opportunity to listen more closely to what continues to resonate.

Looking back across several years of work has been surprisingly clarifying. Certain images consistently connect with people over time. They tend to share a sense of simplicity, grounded calm, and intentional use of color. Rather than demanding attention, they seem to offer space.

Paying attention to these patterns has begun to influence what I’m making now. In the studio, I’m exploring richer neutral backgrounds with soft texture, symbolic elements drawn from nature, and more deliberate use of saturated color. These choices feel like a quiet counterbalance to the intensity of the world around us.

For me, paying attention to what endures is about noticing what continues to resonate and allowing that information to gently guide the next body of work.