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I feel most connected to my core, my center when I’m creating. Sometimes that’s singing or writing, but most often it’s when I’m making art, which I now do almost every day. Sometimes at the beginning, I am just thinking about a project,  shuffling through ideas in my brain. I appear to be staring blankly into space, but inside my brain is looking at different angles, identifying problems, and then figuring out a creative ( and beautiful)  way to solve them. Sometimes this takes minutes, sometimes it takes days.

COVID was like a bomb in my life. Being locked down at home showed all the cracks in my marriage, and it started to crumble. My art became essential to me–I poured all my hopes and visions into it. I began experimenting with my bolder and brighter colors, and my instrument idea was born. I think I was literally trying to create a better, more beautiful world.

Over time I’ve taught myself to observe things around me, which means I stop in my tracks a LOT to look at a hawk,  the color and texture of a tree, or a crab in a tidepool. It can annoy my kids, but they just accept that Mom’s having a moment! Traveling is also very inspiring to me. Arizona gave me new colors in my palette and a big-eared jackrabbit; Isla Mujeres, Mexico gave me the astonishing color of the ocean; Maui gave me the sea turtles (honu!) I’m always looking for and struck by the beauty of wherever I am, storing the little details for future use.

It has taken some time, but I’ve been learning how to harness my ADHD brain. I lean into hyperfocus, give myself space to walk away when something isn’t coming together, and drop everything when I get the urge to paint again. I usually have several projects going at once, so when I hit a wall or get frustrated, I can give my brain a break and turn to something else. Usually, when I’m consciously focused on something else, my subconscious presents a solution to the first thing. So I’m fluid and very adaptable to when and how I create. But there are some days when I just can’t – when life interferes, or when there’s just nothing in my tank, and I’m learning to honor those days too. I don’t keep track of how long something takes me. When someone asks me, I tell them it took me 53 years. I’ve been working my entire life to be able to create the work I make now. The hours per piece don’t matter to me.

I think a lot about what I want my kids to remember, and I want them to know that I went after my passion with everything I had in me. Of course, I would like to become more well-known, have a high-profile show, sell to a celebrity or three… But for now, I am content to keep creating art and selling it to people that love it, and for my kids to be proud that I never gave up.