Abstract Artist Studio May Update: Gold, Growth, and Turning Forty

After our Route 66 trip in April, I found it difficult to jump back into the rhythm of painting. I think I needed a slower start. My biggest focus this month: finishing a commission for one of my oldest and sunniest friends.

The two paintings, Golden I and Golden II, were hands-on learning through practice.

These commissions ended up feeling like a gift to me as an artist. My friend asked me to work within a limited palette of red, gold, black, and white, and the constraint became bumper lanes for experimentation.

I started the process off with initial layers of black and white spray paint, then spent time in my sketchbook exploring how the gold paint behaved. It was my first serious experience painting with gold, and I learned that it comes alive differently depending on what lies underneath it. Raw sienna created a warmth and richness that white and black couldn't quite achieve.

Working on a larger scale, layering acrylic paint, water-soluble pastel, pencil marks, and mixed media elements, reminded me how much I enjoy building paintings through discovery and intuition.

One of the highlights of the process was visiting my friend's home before finishing the work. Being able to see the space where the paintings would live helped me imagine them more clearly and make decisions with intention. As I write this, the paintings are receiving their final coats of fixative and varnish before making the journey across the country to their new home.

Three Galleries and Counting

While I was planning this abstract studio artist update, I learned that Triple Vision I, II, and III were accepted into the juried Summer in the City exhibition at the Cumming Arts Center. These smaller acrylic paintings celebrate vivid blooms and bright summer energy, and I'm thrilled to see them exhibited throughout June and July.

Preparing them for display gave me another opportunity to experiment, this time with framing. I chose white oak floating frames, a departure from the black and metallic frames I've used previously. The warmth of the wood feels increasingly aligned with the direction I'm moving aesthetically.

Meanwhile, Fall Flowers spent the month on display with the Macon Arts Alliance.

One of my goals this year is to consistently put my work out into the world and seeing that happen feels encouraging and validating.

Learning to See Through an Interior Designer's Eyes

As I wrap up the commissions, I’m turning my focus to the relationship between art and interiors.

I have started paying closer attention to the designers and spaces I admire, wondering how artwork functions within a room rather than as a standalone object. Instead of asking, "What painting do I want to make?" I'm thinking, "What feeling does a space need?"

I'm looking at new color combinations, more restraint in some places, and more intentionality in others.

I FINALLY found a room mockup tool that looks promising! More to come on that.

Looking Ahead to June | Abstract Artist Studio Update

I've long been curious about oils but have never given them a go. Earlier this month, I made a trip to Blick and came home with a starter set of paints and paper. I want to make some mistakes, learn how the paint moves, how the colors behave, how slowly it dries, and what possibilities it opens. 

…and if I don’t get to it, so be it!

Forty

As I write this, my fortieth birthday has just passed. I feel better going into forty than I did going into thirty.

At thirty, I had two children under three, a full time and then some job, was exhausted, overwhelmed, and carrying a lot of anxiety. I was working at an agency and dreaming about moving in-house to “client-side”. 

Forty feels different; I’m still anxious. I still think about my body, aging, and the changes that have come with time. But this time, I feel more confident, more grounded, and more certain of who I am.

I’ve had 40 beautiful years on this planet. And now, I get to keep on creating!

Route 66, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Creative Intuition

Last month, my family and I traveled along the western part of Route 66 for Spring Break. One of the gifts of our trip was how it re-energized me and my creativity.

Sometimes stepping away from routine creates space for new ideas to emerge. For me, one of those moments happened while visiting the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe.

I have admired Georgia O’Keeffe’s work for years, but I realized during the visit that I didn’t actually know much about her life or how she thought about her paintings. One part that especially surprised me was learning how strongly she rejected the sexual interpretations that became attached to her flower paintings.

Like many people, I had always assumed the enlarged flowers were intentionally symbolic; that they acted as an invitation to think about femininity or sexuality.

But O’Keeffe repeatedly denied that interpretation. She insisted she was simply painting, in detail, what she saw: shape, color, scale, light, form. When I look at those paintings, the symbolism feels obvious. I have been culturally conditioned to see it. And yet the artist herself claimed otherwise.

The experience made me think about my own work and the strange relationship between conscious intention and whatever emerges from the unconscious during the creative process.

Most of the time when I begin a painting, I genuinely do not know what the final piece will become. I may know the colors I want to explore. I may know the kinds of marks I want to make. I may have loose themes in mind, like energy, nature, movement, Reiki symbols, emotion. But I rarely enter a painting with a fully formed message or image already planned.

Years ago, I painted a sunflower commission for a friend of my mother-in-law’s. While working on it, I instinctively used deep oranges and reds in the petals, much more than I normally would have at the time. I wasn’t referencing a specific flower. I simply followed what felt right while painting.

Then about a year later, we planted giant sunflower seeds with the girls just to watch them grow. The sunflower became enormous — taller than all of us — and when we returned home from vacation that July, it had finally bloomed.

The colors were familiar and uncanny.

The flower had the same fiery orange and red variations I had painted long before seeing it in real life. I remember pulling up a photograph of the painting and comparing it side-by-side with the actual bloom because the resemblance startled me so much.

I’ve experienced similar uncanniness in other paintings too.

One early mountain painting I created in 2020 resurfaced in my mind years later while hiking in India with my mother-in-law. At the top of the trail, the ridges and layered mountain shapes reminded me so strongly of the painting that I later placed the images beside each other when I got home.

The colors were different and the details weren’t exact. But the structure and the feeling of the landscape was familiar.

I don’t fully understand how intuition works in art. Probably none of us do.

Sometimes it feels less like inventing something and more like uncovering something that was already waiting there beneath the surface.

I believe artists can consciously explain what they intended to say with a piece. I also think creative work often carries meanings that exist beyond conscious planning. The mind may direct the brush, but the unconscious is still present in the room.

Maybe that’s part of why art resonates differently with each person who encounters it.

O’Keeffe may have been painting flowers exactly as she saw them. But what emerged through her intense observation and focus carried meanings larger than intention alone.

Seeing her work in person also deepened another growing curiosity of mine: oil painting. O’Keeffe worked extensively in oils, and standing close enough to study the texture, blending, and layering of her surfaces made me want to learn the medium more seriously myself.

Somewhere along Route 66, desert landscapes, museum walls, and long hours away from normal life, I found a creative rest and reset.

March Studio Update: Photography, New Work, and Building Momentum as an Artist

March felt like a month of behind-the-scenes progress.

Not everything was visible or finished. But a lot moved forward.

Investing in the Process

One of the biggest shifts this month was finally upgrading some of my tools.

I added an L-bracket to my camera setup, which has already made shooting vertically so much easier. It’s a small change, but one that removes friction, and I’m starting to realize how much small barriers were slowing me down.

The bigger investment was a new MacBook Pro.

It’s been over a decade—closer to fifteen years—since I last upgraded my laptop. Over time, I had just adapted to things being slow: Lightroom lagging, Wix struggling to load, constant delays in editing and uploading.

And while I told myself it was manageable, it was costing me something more valuable: time and creative energy.

Now there is less waiting, less frustration, and more space to create.

Returning to Photography

I also spent one Sunday revisiting my sketchbooks by photographing recent work and even pieces from the past year.

This is part of a broader commitment I’m making: using weekends not just to paint, but to document and practice photography. 

Right now, my indoor settings are starting to feel consistent:

• Aperture around f/5.6

• ISO between 200–400 (320 feels like a sweet spot)

• Slower shutter speeds (often between 1/15–1/30)

  
  

There’s still more to refine, especially around lighting, but I’m beginning to trust my eye.

Work in Progress (Everywhere)

Like nature, but in the studio, March was about seeding. 

• A commission for a friend is underway

• Three new paper pieces are in progress, with a developing theme I’m still feeling into

• And a completely new direction: a sculptural piece

  
  

The sculptural work is especially different for me. I started it experimentally using leftover gesso and layering spray paint in cerulean blue. It began to resemble waves, and now I’m exploring what it wants to become.

Do the waves face the shore? Or stretch toward the horizon?

Right now, I’m leaning toward the horizon.

I’m also questioning color and whether to keep the bold blue or move toward something more neutral. Either way, it’s a departure from my usual work, and that feels novel. 

Expanding the Foundation

This month also included some meaningful milestones:

• Launching my Chakra Fine Art Print Series

• Framing Bloom Under Pressure and establishing a relationship with a new local framer

• Updating listings and continuing to build out my shop

Looking Ahead

I will be on vacation for part of April, driving Route 66 with my family from Oklahoma City to Santa Monica. It’s my first chance to disconnect in a long time, and my first chance outside of work and the daily grind to practice presence with myself, Tristan and my girls. 

When I return, I will continue to:

• Paint more consistently

• Document more of the process

  
  

The goal is to create monthly recaps that feel progressive and relatable, something that captures beauty in imperfection, movement, texture, and energy.