*Because sometimes a barefoot walk and a good kiss are the only creative rituals you need.*

The Fog, the Feet, and the First Clarity in Weeks

Lately, I’ve been in a season of heavy thinking. My art brain has been spinning—trying to decide between different paths, different mediums, different focuses. Should I go deeper into story-driven character work or pursue surface design and patterns more seriously?

No clear answer was presenting itself. And the more I thought about it, the harder it became to sit down and make anything at all. I wasn’t blocked, exactly—I was in overdrive. Over-analyzing. Over-critiquing. Overwhelmed.

So I did the simplest thing I could think of:
I took off my shoes and walked outside.

There wasn’t time for a long walk that day, so I just wandered around the backyard barefoot. Feeling the grass. Noticing the sunlight. Letting my breath move slowly in and out. I wasn’t trying to fix anything. I just wanted to move.

And then… ideas started coming. Fast.

Art (and Snails) Begin With Sensation

One of the more magical moments of the past week happened while I was kissing my husband. (Stick with me here—this is going somewhere tender and hilarious.)

We were having a romantic moment, and as we kissed, my mind suddenly filled with the image of blue trumpet vine flowers. (Apparently, visual downloads during intimate moments aren’t common, but I’ve always experienced that—maybe it’s a kind of creative synesthesia?)

Then, at one particularly surprising moment, a snail popped up in my inner vision and said, “Hi.”

I burst out laughing. The timing was too perfect, the image too clear. When I told my husband what I saw, he said, “You need to paint that.”

And so I did.

That spontaneous image became the beginning of a mini-series I’m now working on: a watercolor love story between two whimsical snails. Nature, love, humor, and magic—all rolled into one dreamy, ridiculous origin story.

When the Art Gets Softer, So Do I

There’s something poetic about the fact that this painting came from my body, not my mind. It didn’t start in strategy or planning or problem-solving. It came from sensation. From joy. From being present.

That one barefoot walk shifted something. I’ve returned to that practice over and over this week—walking in the grass, breathing, not thinking, just feeling. And my creative flow has returned, not with a bang, but with a gentle, steady trickle of new ideas, sketches, and beginnings.

I’ve even noticed that my art is softening.
More restraint.
Less overworking.
More intuitive layout.
Less “prove-it” energy.

It’s a subtle but powerful shift. I feel like I’m entering a phase where my natural ability and my trained skill are finally merging.

And that… feels like art becoming a second language.

The First Collection for Starthistle & Quartz 🌿

This little snail painting, born from a laugh and a kiss, is officially the first piece of what will become my first official Starthistle & Quartz collection.

It’s not finished yet—I’ve only completed one painting and I’m working on the second—but it feels alive. And that’s all I need.

The originals will be available on Saatchi Art later this fall, and I may offer prints to my Patreon members first (depending on interest). If this series continues to grow, I can imagine stickers, patterns, maybe even a little zine or illustrated story.