A little tip: Read to the end for inspiration, journal prompts and project ideas
“I want to paint that.”
Every time I see a sunset, that’s what I think.
I study the colors, salivating like there’s a pile of hot sweet potato fries in front of me, willing me to consume them.
The pinks and oranges and yellows; vibrant and pale, delicious. Blue-green skies with floating clouds of gray and magenta and white. Simply orgasmic.
I marvel at what nature makes. I dream about what will happen when I smear paint on that page or canvas.
It wasn’t too long ago, when the paint came out, I would stand in front of the blank white canvas with a paintbrush in my hand —
And freeze.
“I dare you,” the virgin canvas says to me.
Then I would start thinking of all the other things I need to do besides being confronted by that blank white thing all alone. The dishes in the sink, the broken printer, 22,456 emails I need to review and delete.
That blank canvas was a mirror, of course. With damn nagging perfectionism staring right back at me.
Shameless lying beliefs
Like most shameless lying beliefs, the idea that I needed to make perfect art or nothing at all was something that seeped into my brain somewhere between age 4 and 7.
I grew up in a home where art was a way of life; it was revered and savored like sweet Texas peaches. My mother, a portrait artist, would paint my sisters and me in the garage for hours as we posed for her. I would watch the slow dance between her paintbrush and oil paints as she perfected my nostril or the curve of my chin. That, to me, was real art.
As an adult, I had that in my mind, even when I longed to paint wild sunsets with my fingers, or fill a page with drips of color.
I, the artist wannabe, would never measure up. Or would I?
In February 2019, I took a leap that changed it all. I said yes to becoming an Intentional Creativity teacher with Shiloh Sophia. Through that program, the idea of making perfect art was thrown out the window with the perfectly perfect bathwater.
Intentional creativity is a philosophy for making anything. Make what you feel, and don’t worry about what it becomes. Play, paint your laughter, your fears, your questions, your prayers. Create with the deepest expression of who you are in this moment. Make it a dance – in fact, dance while you’re creating. It’s a portal to freedom and truth and wonder and getting lost and sometimes forgetting to go to a meeting or call a marketing client back (the truth comes out…sorry clients, I was lost in paint). It’s okay to make a big damn mess. Miraculously, it turns out beautifully.
I found my freedom. I painted a series of six feminine archetypes and laughed and cried. At one point, I got so overwhelmed by the truth that was emerging, I had to leave my painting until my dreams revealed what to do. I didn’t stress about the final product because it was mine and it meant something – to me. I was forever changed.
One day, on a hike in the red rocks of Sedona, I had an epiphany.
I’m not an artist. I’m a Heartist. Heartist=art+love+freedom.
And Wild Heartist Studio was born.
Wild Heartist Studio is a sacred sanctuary for creativity, healing and pure, unabashed freedom and connection to each other and to yourself. No art or writing experience is needed, just a willingness to play, explore, let go and get messy (or not, though I can’t seem to escape it). Here, everything you make is perfectly imperfect–and everyone is a Heartist.
My mission is to be your guide to find your creative spark, and your wild, unapologetic self — to help you connect to what is sacred in you. It’s also to support incredible non-profit organizations with every Wild Heartist gathering.
With this new Wild Heartist passion project, I’ll be learning and leaning in as I go. Bear with me. It’s all one big colorful experiment -like life. Will you join me?
Check out our offerings and sign up now. Space is limited.
I can’t wait to play in the Wild Heartist Studio with you.
PLAY WILD Journal Prompt:
Sit quietly with a cuppa tea, glass of Veuve Cliquot (the best alcohol) or good old water, pull out your journal and a flowy pen and answer these questions either by writing or drawing:
- Is there something that’s calling to your heart to do, but you don’t for some reason? What is it? (example: start a journal practice, dance, paint, pottery or just have more time to play)
- What’s one thing you can do to step toward what’s calling you?
- What would love do to help you along?
