The Stories Inside the Frame

How an Instagram challenge sparked a collection—and helped me through a tough week

If you've been following me on Instagram, you may have seen my recent pieces for the #scaryandsweet2025 art challenge. What started as a fun, seasonal prompt list has unexpectedly turned into something more—a themed collection, rich with character, storytelling, and creative healing.

Initially, I didn’t plan for a collection to emerge. In fact, after my second prompt felt like a total flop, I went back and redid it in the same style as the first: a single framed character set against wallpaper. That was the “click.” Something about that format—one central figure, a bold Victorian frame, a background that hints at time and place—allowed my imagination to stretch.

Each new piece follows this structure:
🎨 The same vibrant Halloween color palette
🖼️ A recurring oval frame on wallpaper
🧚‍♀️ One central character with a name and backstory

Some of these stories are personal, like Knives Meow, featuring my own kitten, Mia, proudly baring her tiny claws. Others draw from literature or nostalgia—like Shelly, inspired by the playful ghost my kids and I believe haunts their bedroom Yoto speaker. (Is it really a ghost? I’ll never tell.)

Right now, I’m working on a piece called Periwinkle and Poison, loosely based on Tribulation Periwinkle, a Civil War nurse from Louisa May Alcott’s Hospital Sketches. She’s taking on an eerie, spectral quality reminiscent of Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion bride, and I can’t wait to see her come to life.

Periwinkle & Poison

My quick sketches of my next prompt.

But here's the deeper truth: creating this collection has helped me stay grounded through some hard emotional territory I’m navigating personally. Art doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me a way to keep hope alive, even when life feels heavy.

This challenge is also stretching my style in new directions. I’m working with a palette that’s brighter than my usual comfort zone, and experimenting with how far I can push the balance between "cute" and "creepy." Some pieces miss the mark (Crab Louie, I'm looking at you), but others, like Inky the Octopus and Shelly, feel like they might be keepers.

What's Next?

💌 If you’d like to follow along and help shape this evolving collection, I’m sharing sketches and voting polls over on Patreon. My patrons will receive two exclusive rewards from this collection—likely a sticker and a postcard featuring the fan favorites.

📸 You can also catch the creative process in real time on Instagram: @starthistle.and.quartz

💬 I’d love to hear from you: which piece from this collection is your favorite? What character would you dream up for a prompt like “Ghosts and Gardens” or “Periwinkle and Poison”?

Want to join the challenge?

The #scaryandsweet2025 challenge is hosted by a wonderfully spooky and sweet group of creatives:
@roymeister
@heathermuellerdesign
@heyalissandra
@jenprocreates
@jessmillerdraws

Finding My Art Niche: What If the Clarity Comes After the Choice?

“Tide Pool” by Therese Tucker

For years, I’ve heard that in order to grow an audience and connect with collectors, clients, or art lovers, you have to niche down. Choose your palette. Choose your subject. Pick a medium. Make your path clear and consistent.

But here’s the thing no one talks about: what if you can feel the direction of your niche in your bones but can’t quite see the art that lives inside it yet?

That’s where I am now.

My Niche Has a Shape—But Not a Face (Yet)

When I think of niching, I don’t just imagine a subject matter—I imagine a set of creative tools, a way of working, a tone of voice. Something like:

Children’s books with mythical, woodland characters in earthy tones mixed with brights—painted in gouache, neo color and ink, with organic shapes and varied line weights.

It’s close. I feel it. But then, the resistance kicks in.

Because... what if I make the wrong choice?
What if I get bored and abandon it later?
What if the characters I think I want to draw never actually arrive?

Overthinking is the Vortex, Not the Solution

I’ve done the research. I’ve studied my own portfolio. I’ve reflected on what mediums bring me joy. I’ve run pieces through both handmade and digital to see what matches my soul. I even turned to my AI collaborator for feedback.

But what I’ve realized is this: you cannot think your way into a niche.
You can only live your way into it.

So what do I do now?
I write.
I sketch.
I make the next piece.

Instead of waiting for the full cast of characters to arrive, I’m starting a journal. I’ll write down what I know: the setting, the mood, the tone. Maybe the characters will walk in through the side door once I stop demanding they show up on command.

And you know what? I’m inviting you to come with me as this niche unfolds.

“Witch’s Book Shop” pattern

These recent pieces are all part of different art challenges I have joined in October.

✨ Follow the Evolution in Real Time on Patreon

If you’re curious to see how this creative direction takes shape—what pieces get made, what sketches evolve into stories, and how style and subject continue to merge—you’ll find all of that over on my Patreon.

It’s where I share my works in progress, behind-the-scenes thoughts, sketchbook pages, and early releases of collections and illustrations. I’d love to have you there.

Because the truth is, the niche is finding me, too.

✨ Want to follow the story as it’s written?
Come join me on Patreon to watch my niche take shape in real time.