Marks, Memories, and Meaning: The Stories That Shape My Art Part Two: Connection & Story

Last time, I shared two guideposts that helped reshape how I rest and create. Today, I’m picking up with the final two—both personal, both about how I stay connected to meaning (and people) through art.

Where the Story Starts

When I was juggling a demanding teaching job and new parenthood, I didn’t know how to stop. My days ran together—just one need after the next—until my therapist suggested a “20-minute rule.” Time that wasn’t a commute, didn’t include a kid soundtrack, and didn’t involve reps or sport tape.

At first, I just used the time to rest. But eventually, I picked up a pen. I started doodling. Zentangling. Letting my thoughts wander toward memories I wanted to hold onto.

It wasn’t about pleasing others or always making something pretty. It was about coming back to myself. Sometimes that meant drawing. Sometimes I’d flip through old sketchbooks or reread journal pages—raise your hand if you had that marble-cover one from the late ’90s!—and remember who I was.

Even those early attempts at figuring things out—messy pages, half-formed thoughts—started to tell their own tales.

You’re Part of the Story Too

When I left teaching, I didn’t realize how much I’d miss connection. No classroom buzz. No coworker banter. My life was still full at home, but that particular kind of daily togetherness was just… gone.

That’s why I started a monthly craft group—a real stitch and bitch. We knit, cut, glue, paint, and swear like sailors. We tell stories while we work.  We aren’t trying to be productive. We are just making things together, and laughing through the mess. It turns out, creativity sometimes needs company.

 

Eventually, I started sharing online. It was scary, and intimidating, and felt ridiculous, but I just took a deep breath and did it.

Not because I had a plan—just because I couldn’t help saying, “Look what I made!” with the same simple, uncomplicated joy I used to feel showing something to my family as a kid. I was looking to be seen—as something other than just someone who wasn’t teaching, or someone who was sick, or—dare I say it—disabled. More than anything, I was looking to share joy again.

Summer Postcards (So Far)

This summer, I’ve been working on a little series of hand-painted postcards. So far:

🍓 Strawberries still on the vine

🦞 A lobster on a vintage plate

🌊 A purple sea star and yellow sea urchin from a tidepool.

These are just a few small moments—like the kind I used to teach second graders to write, only in pictures.

This series will wrap up soon, and I’ll be putting together a small, limited set of postcards from it. If you want first dibs, make sure you’re on my list.

P.S. Sometimes, when I’ve got a little extra energy (and stamps), I pop a few surprise postcards in the mail for folks on the list. No promises—but you never know what might show up.

Click here to join: https://tr.ee/YFIgD7mq8N

Got a Late-Summer Idea?

Tell me: what image captures the end of summer for you?

Cue Taylor Swift’s august—you know the one.  A porch storm? A striped towel that never dries? A drippy popsicle? A perfect peach?  Something weird and wonderful?

Reply and let me know. It might just end up in the next painting.

A Few Sketches from the Road

These are pieces I made while traveling—quick drawings and paintings using a little watercolor kit or a few colored pencils. My brother’s band with my nephews as guest musicians at a house concert in Portland.  A blue pencil sketch of Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach. A view from Short Sands Beach. A patch of wildflowers off the highway. A sign at Powell’s Books that stopped me cold. Rolling green hills at the West Virginia–Pennsylvania border. Mushrooms and plants sketched on a quiet walk.  The last one is a family game of Faces we were drawing on the plane.

They’re not part of the gouache series. This is how I journal, see—what I notice, what I care about, and what I want to remember.

One More

The world’s been heavy lately. Some days it’s hard to hold the grief and injustice and get through the grocery list. I’m learning how to stay informed without shutting down. To act when I can. To rest when I need to.

Making these postcards each week has helped me stay grounded—just enough to keep going, and to keep noticing what’s still good.