I Didn’t Set Out to Become an Artist. I Set Out to Understand Myself.

There was a time when I thought I knew exactly who I was supposed to become.

I had earned my PhD in Organizational Leadership. I imagined myself speaking, teaching, leading workshops, and helping people grow through leadership and transformation. It was a path that made sense. A path that looked successful on paper.

And then life got quiet.

Around 2020, like many people, I found myself in a season of stillness I hadn’t planned for. The world slowed down, and in many ways, so did I. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t moving from one accomplishment to the next. I wasn’t filling every empty space with productivity.

And honestly, it was uncomfortable.

Stillness has a way of revealing things we’ve been too busy to notice.

Questions started surfacing.
Who am I beneath all the roles?
What parts of myself have I ignored?
What would happen if I stopped trying to control every outcome?
What if becoming isn’t about adding more, but uncovering what was already there?

At the time, I had no idea that art would become part of the answer.

Ironically, it began through research. I was studying creativity, leadership, and transformation and became curious about creative practices as a pathway for growth and self-awareness. Painting wasn’t something I had done before. I didn’t grow up thinking of myself as “the artistic one.”

But something happened the first time I picked up a brush.

It felt less like creating something and more like meeting a part of myself I hadn’t fully known before.

Painting became a conversation.
A mirror.
A release.
A way of processing emotions I didn’t always have words for.

The layers, textures, imperfections, and movement on the canvas reflected what was happening internally. I started realizing that transformation isn’t clean or linear. It’s layered. Messy. Beautiful. Contradictory.

A lot like art.

Over time, I stopped trying to make paintings that were simply “pretty.”

I became more interested in creating pieces that felt honest.
Pieces that held emotion.
Pieces that reflected becoming.
Pieces that made women feel seen during seasons of transition, reinvention, grief, healing, courage, and growth.

Because the truth is, many of us wake up one day and realize we’ve outgrown parts of our lives.

Sometimes it’s after divorce.
Sometimes after burnout.
Sometimes after success that somehow still feels empty.
Sometimes after years of taking care of everyone else.

And sometimes there isn’t one dramatic moment at all.
Just a quiet realization that the woman you once were no longer fully fits.

I know that feeling deeply.

You may notice that my hair changes often in photos.
Long hair. Short hair. Blonde. Red.
That used to make me feel self-conscious because I worried people would think I was inconsistent.

Now I see it differently.

Becoming is a practice.

We are allowed to evolve.
Allowed to shift.
Allowed to rediscover ourselves.
Allowed to create lives and spaces that reflect who we are now, not who we were five years ago.

That philosophy lives inside every painting I create.

My art is not about perfection.
It’s about permission.

Permission to feel deeply.
Permission to change.
Permission to hold both strength and softness.
Permission to create beauty from chaos.

Today, when women bring my work into their homes, I don’t believe they are just buying artwork.

I think they are honoring a version of themselves that is trying to emerge.

A reminder.
A reflection.
A grounding point.
A quiet statement that says:
“This space gets to reflect who I am becoming too.”

If you are in a season of transition right now, I hope you know this:

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.

And sometimes becoming begins the moment we stop trying to force certainty and start allowing ourselves to create a life that feels true.

With love,
Sarah