As summer slips into fall, the world outside my window shifts its palette. The greens soften into muted golds, the sky turns a little moodier, and the air carries that quiet signal that it’s time to turn inward. These seasonal shifts don’t just change how I move through the day—they also seep into my studio and the work I create.
On my desk right now, you’ll find papers washed in yellows, oranges, and rust tones—colors that feel like they belong to fall itself. Some are just beginning layers, soft washes waiting for form, while others have become tangled gardens of line and color. I find myself layering Posca pens, colored pencil, and watercolor washes almost instinctively, letting the season’s energy guide me.
Fall has always felt like a season of release—leaves letting go, gardens fading, light thinning. And in that space, there’s room to breathe differently. My pace slows down. My process becomes less about producing and more about listening—allowing forms to unfold, giving myself permission to follow the thread of a color or a shape without needing to know where it’s leading.
In some ways, fall shapes not only my palette but also my mindset as an artist. The cycle of endings makes way for beginnings. Just as the trees shed their leaves to prepare for new growth, I feel the pull to clear space—physically in my studio, and emotionally in my practice.
Rust and gold remind me that beauty isn’t only found in the new and the blooming—it’s also in the fading, the shifting, the quiet transitions that mark time. This is where my art takes root right now, in the balance between change and stillness.
What colors are showing up in your world this season?
