Creating from My Channel: What It’s Like to Receive Art Spiritually

A dreamy little painting from my 2024 gouache sketchbook.

There’s something indescribable that happens when I create from my intuitive channel ; a deep sense of ease, connection, and purpose that reminds me my art isn’t just coming from me, it’s coming through me.

Over the years, I’ve come to understand that my most resonant, collected, and deeply felt pieces arrive when I allow myself to open, receive, and let Source energy flow through my hands.

In this post, I want to share what that experience is really like — not just the outcome, but the energetic receiving process behind the art.

Receiving the Vision

When a piece wants to come through, I often receive it as a vision. The image arrives in my mind's eye fully formed complete with its layers, textures, and energy. It’s more than a concept, I feel the experience.

The feeling of receiving it is similar to sliding into a hot bath: deep relaxation, openness, and a quiet certainty. These visions often arrive in the liminal moments, during meditation, after I’ve moved my body, or just before sleep and in dreams. My nervous system needs to be relaxed and open, otherwise I can't hear the whispers of my creative channel.

Sometimes I even receive instructions, like a tutorial from Spirit. Over a decade ago, I was shown in a dream exactly how to create a painting on wood and finish it with beeswax. I remember being confused in the dream, and the scene literally rewound and slowed down so I could understand it more clearly. That painting sold immediately. I’ve never forgotten that moment.

Channeled Art Feels Effortless

There’s a distinct difference between trying to think up an idea and receiving one. When I try to create from effort, it feels tight in my body. I overanalyze. The inner critic gets louder.

But when I channel it flows. There’s no “trying” involved. The piece unfolds organically, and I feel connected, curious, and excited. My job becomes simply to stay open and keep going until it’s complete.

How I Open My Channel

I don’t need a big ritual to connect, just presence and preparation. I always start by moving my body first. I’ve learned that moving the body moves the mind and movement opens my channel far more effectively than stillness alone.

Once my body is relaxed, I may sit in meditation or simply remain in a state of quiet receptivity. I’ve also had incredible moments right before waking up or during sleep where pieces arrive as full downloads. These are the pieces that feel sacred, almost like gifts.

The Pieces Always Find the Right People

The most magical thing about creating this way is that the right people always seem to find the work.

Many times, collectors will share with me that a painting felt like it was made just for them. Sometimes these are pieces I never fully understood until someone else told me what it meant to them, how the symbols and colors held significance I hadn’t even considered. That’s the moment I’m reminded again: I’m not the source of my work. I’m the channel.

That’s why I’ve always said: I’m not the artist. I’m the paintbrush Source chooses to use for this particular work.

Why This Matters to Other Creatives

If you’re an artist, a visionary, a soul-driven creator… this is your permission slip to stop forcing and start feeling.

Your best work doesn’t come from the ego, it comes from the part of you that knows. Your inner mystic. Your intuitive self. Your higher guidance. And the more you open to that, the more easeful, connected, and impactful your art becomes.

You are a channel. And your job isn’t to be perfect, it’s just to be open.

Want to Strengthen Your Connection to Source?

If this post lit something up inside you, here are three ways you can go deeper with me:

• 💌 Join Patreon — where I share my process in real time and let you vote on the characters and pieces that get created.

• 🌠 Download the Starlight Dream Lab — a free guide to help you uncover your big dream and connect with your higher creative vision.

• 🌟 Join the Epic Year Workshop — to map out your dream life and creative goals using soul-aligned tools like numerology and astrology.

Final Thought

You’re not imagining it , your visions are real. Your art matters. And every time you create with intention, you become a bridge between the visible and invisible worlds.

Keep your channel open.

Keep your heart open.

The work will find its way through you and to the people who need it most.

Walking Two Creative Paths: Storytelling & Surface Design

A closeup peak at “Blissful Bakery” by Therese Tucker for the #TinselTown2025 challenge.

Why I’m Building Two Portfolios Instead of Just One

For the longest time, I thought I had to choose.
Was I going to be a children’s book illustrator, or a surface designer?

I’ve always known that my art had a certain magical, whimsical energy. I’ve worked hard to refine my voice, understand my style, and commit to consistent practice. But even with all that effort, I still felt stuck in one major area: what to focus on.

I saw illustrators creating dreamy picture books and imagined my work bringing characters to life on the page. Then I'd see surface designers turning art into fabric, stationery, and home goods and I felt pulled in that direction, too. I felt a deep love for both paths… and a persistent belief that I could only choose one.

Until one day, I came across a YouTube video by Mel Armstrong.

She said something that cracked everything open for me:

"You can absolutely build both portfolios. You don’t have to choose.”

It was such a simple statement, but it blew my mind. Her words gave me permission to do what my intuition had been telling me all along: that my creativity doesn’t need to be confined to one box. It’s okay to walk both paths and let them inform one another.

A Quick Shout-Out to Mel Armstrong

If you’re not familiar with her work, Mel Armstrong is a children’s book illustrator and surface pattern designer with a truly distinctive style. She’s built a creative business around doing both and I just want to say thank you, Mel, for sharing that insight. It helped me find peace, clarity, and direction in what had felt like an overwhelming fork in the road.

My Dual-Path Art Vision

So here’s what I’m working on now:

Path One: Storytelling Illustration

I’m building a portfolio of work that feels like it belongs in a beautiful picture book with pieces that carry emotion, whimsy, narrative, and heart. These characters often arrive intuitively. Sometimes I dream them. Sometimes they speak before they fully appear. I know that this part of my work is deeply tied to my mission: to create art that opens portals, sparks remembrance, and connects the viewer to something deeper.

Path Two: Surface Design

I’m also building collections of repeat patterns, seasonal illustrations, and motif-driven art that could live beautifully on fabric, stationery, wallpaper, home goods, and giftware. This path feels more grounded and product-oriented, and I find joy in the way it allows me to think in terms of collections, utility, and design.

Rather than seeing this as a conflict of direction, I now see it as a spectrum of creativity: two ways that my art can live in the world. And truthfully, many of the artists I admire most do exactly this: they have both a story-driven and a product-driven side to their art business.

Trusting Intuition to Lead the Way

This shift didn’t come from a perfect business plan.
It came from listening inward. From noticing the projects that felt alive. From trusting that what brings joy to me is likely what will resonate most with others.

I’m no longer trying to shove myself into a neat niche or force clarity from the outside in. I’m following what wants to be expressed and honoring the full spectrum of creative expression that flows through me.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be strategic or intentional. I’m still creating two portfolios. I’m still thinking about markets, formats, and licensing. But I’m doing so with a sense of permission. Giving myself permission to build an art career that reflects the multitudes within me.

For the Creatives Who Can’t Pick One Thing

If you’ve ever felt torn between two creative paths, I want you to know:
You don’t have to choose. You can build both. You can find the threads that connect them.
And you can trust that your unique mix of gifts will lead to something beautiful.

I'm using the Epic Year Workshop (my signature yearly planning experience) to help me bring this dual-path dream into form and if you're curious about building a vision for your own creative future, you’re invited to join me.

You can also follow along on Patreon, where I share behind-the-scenes looks at both portfolios as they unfold.

This is a new season of creative alignment for me—and I'm so excited to walk this path.

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

5 Things Keeping Me Creatively Grounded Right Now

“Love Potion” by Therese Tucker.

Lately, I’ve been holding a lot—artistically, emotionally, and energetically. With big creative goals, active art challenges, a coaching practice, and my daily life in full swing, I’ve realized how important it is to have grounding practices that keep me connected to the joy and purpose of creating.

These aren’t complicated or “productivity hacks.” They’re small, soulful things that bring me back to center—and I want to share them in case you need that too.

1. A Warm Mug While I Work

Whether it’s a favorite tea blend or my evening magnesium hot chocolate, having a cozy, comforting drink by my side while I work makes the whole experience feel more intentional. It’s a small ritual, but it turns my art practice into a moment I look forward to.

2. Mantras That Unlock Flow

When I’m feeling uncertain or overwhelmed, I remind myself:
“I can do this.”
That simple phrase helps soften my shoulders, unlock my wrists, and let me drop back into flow. It pulls me out of worrying about outcomes and into enjoying the process.

3. Artist Challenges & Creative Kinship

Participating in artist challenges—like the #scaryandsweet2025 challenge—has been such a grounding force. Seeing how other artists interpret the same prompt reminds me we’re all connected, and it makes creating feel like a conversation instead of a solo act. It's also where I've been sharing and developing a new collection—surprising even myself!

4. Letting Color Lead

Color is always the first place I start. When I lock in a palette—whether it’s deep Prussian blue, warm vermilions, or glowing golds—I feel lit up and excited to keep going. I often joke it’s like eating the frosting before the cake, and honestly? It is.

5. Visioning Instead of Rushing

I’ve started journaling more intentionally—not just to log my days, but to listen. To ask questions like:
– What kind of art do I want to make?
– What am I trying to say with my work?
– What would it feel like to create from a deep sense of purpose?

Right now, I feel like I’m holding a world in my hands—something not fully formed, but alive. It’s not just a collection. It’s a world that wants to come through. And I’m learning to treat that world gently... like a cat that might jump into your lap if you give it space and time.

You’re Not Behind, You’re Becoming

If you’re also in the middle of something—if you’re trying to make sense of your art, or your purpose, or the direction that calls you—this is your reminder that it’s okay not to have all the answers yet.

The knowing will come.
The art will come.
Your direction will reveal itself in its own rhythm.

💌 Come Along For the Journey

I’m sharing my creative evolution—my collections in progress, sketchbook flips, challenges, and monthly art rewards—on Patreon. I’d love for you to join me there if you want a closer look behind the scenes. 💖

And if you’re seeking daily inspiration, you can always download my Art + Soul Journal—a year-long prompt guide for connecting more deeply to your creative self.

When the Collection Finds You

Meet “Knives Meow” from my Scary + Sweet Collection.

Reflections on unexpected inspiration, “ugly” sketchbooks, and letting the art take the lead

Every October, the art world lights up with prompt challenges. From #Inktober to #Peachtober to smaller niche lists, the community energy is high—and this year, I joined the #ScaryandSweet2025 challenge on Instagram (hosted by @roymeister, @heathermuellerdesign, @heyalissandra, @jenprocreates, and @jessmillerdraws). I entered with one small intention: use a single color palette for the month.

That’s it. No plan, no vision, just show up and make art.

And then… something happened.

After creating my first prompt piece ("sweet + sharp"—a kitten baring its claws, framed in Victorian wallpaper), I took a totally different approach with my second. It fell flat. It didn’t feel like me. So I reworked it using the same structure as the first—and suddenly, something clicked.

A collection had quietly started forming without my permission.

Every piece since then has followed the same loose format: a wallpapered background, a central frame, and a character. Each one rooted in the theme of the prompt, but shaped more by feeling than logic. I’m not even usually drawn to spooky or Halloween-inspired art, but working with these themes has given me more creative freedom than I expected. I’m chasing texture. I’m sketching in a deliberately “ugly” sketchbook. I’m letting go.

And more than anything—I’m letting the art tell me what it wants to become.

Growing Out Loud

There’s something awkward about evolving your style in public. I look back on old work and sometimes feel disconnected. Some pieces still feel true. Others feel like echoes of another artist—or like I was just following a tutorial. There’s pride, sure, but there’s also cringey vulnerability.

Still—I’m glad I kept sharing.

I believe art that truly moves people doesn’t come from strategy. It comes from surrender. From being the channel. When you let go of the outcome and simply prepare the space—your art will meet you there.

💌 Want to See the Collection?

You can view the first 5 pieces of this evolving series over on Instagram at @starthistle.and.quartz. Want to help me vote on which piece becomes the October Patreon reward? Come join me on Patreon where this collection is unfolding in real time—postcards, stickers, and behind-the-scenes process videos included.