Lately, I’ve felt a shift in my studio. It’s subtle but steady, like the feeling of soil warming just before something new pushes through. This season of my art feels like both a return and an emergence, a rooting down and a rising up at the same time.
Over the past few months, I noticed myself feeling a little disconnected from my usual creative rhythm. Not in a dramatic way, just in that quiet sense of drifting that happens when life gets full and the days move faster than you can keep up. Instead of pushing myself to produce, I realized what I needed was to turn inward again and listen. My work has always come from an honest place, and this season is no different. If anything, it's asking me to be more intentional with what I choose to nurture.
I’ve been reconnecting with the textures and themes that ground me—natural lines, soft transitions, and quiet forms that mirror emotional landscapes. My colors have shifted too. They feel earthier, warmer, more patient. There’s a sense of shedding old narratives and letting the work find its own voice again.
“Root & Bloom” is the phrase that keeps circling my mind. It reflects where I am creatively: digging deeper into what feels true and letting growth happen at its own pace. It carries the hum of small beginnings and the hint of something opening, slowly and quietly.
Some pieces in the studio feel like early sprouts, others like branches reaching in new directions. I’m exploring textures that hold both movement and stillness. I’m letting intuition lead more than structure. And I’m allowing myself to follow what feels nourishing rather than what feels expected.
This season is less about performance and more about presence. Less about proving and more about becoming. I don’t know exactly where this phase will lead, but I can feel the shape of it forming—steady, grounded, and full of possibility.
For now, I’m choosing to root. The blooming will follow in its own time.
