I’ve spent the last year finding my way back to creativity—not as a job or side gig, but as a way of feeling more like myself again.
When creativity became my degree, then my job, I lost touch with the version of it that felt playful and free. The version that didn’t care if it was good or polished, just fun. I missed the part of me that made things simply because I wanted to.
As a kid, I loved art camp. Paint-stained fingers. Random projects. New mediums. No end goal in mind. Just making for the joy of it. That’s why I fell in love with art in the first place…because it gave me space to try things, get messy, and experiment without needing it to mean anything.
Over the last year, I’ve been trying to find my voice again. Not by thinking about it too hard, but by actually making things—writing, photographing, designing—trying out ideas, seeing what feels right, and letting go of what doesn’t. This whole project is an experiment in that. A place to bring together the parts of me I’ve always wanted to combine, but never gave myself full permission to.
And I’m still figuring it out. I still catch myself putting pressure on it to be perfect, to mean something. But I’m trying to unlearn that. I’m re-learning to create without expectation. To chase what feels real. To trust that my voice is already there…I just have to keep showing up to hear it.
