Although I created this light-hearted piece before my husband’s illness and death, I found myself returning to it in the years afterward with a sense of wonder. Had I ever really felt that carefree and celebratory toward the idea of change? Embracing change has never been my strong suit, but creating this piece allowed me to focus on the positive aspects it can bring to life. My husband and I had recently retired, and I committed to being open to…
I often ask myself this question as I navigate the complexities of my inner and outer life. While healing from the loss of my husband and the life we shared, I find myself not only exploring new paths but doing so alone, without his guidance and support. As the pain of loss and separation transforms into new possibilities and challenges, I wonder just where I am headed in this new life. I find myself again in a transitional space, where…
During my healing process from grief, I realized the importance of acknowledging that I had options, even when it seemed like there were none. Accepting the possibility of choices—whether it meant pushing myself on a particular day or allowing myself to rest—empowered me and made me feel more in control. I continue to find that exploring my choices helps me navigate challenging situations. Inspired by the vibrant colors in a local store’s paint department, I used paint samples to create…
After a long, wintry month of February, I spotted two hopeful snowdrop blossoms while out for a walk. They twinkled like tiny stars nestled in the partially frozen ground. I love these little flowers, as they are usually one of the first signs that winter is ending in my area. In the Language of Flowers, a poetic form of communication widespread during Victorian times, snowdrops often symbolize hope. What can be more hopeful than the first blooms of spring? I…
I created this canvas on the third Valentine’s Day after my husband’s death. I called it Empty Heart, though I hoped to imply that the emptiness might someday be filled again. Over time, I have learned that this hope is not just about finding another partner but about discovering who I am without one. I used beautiful hand-silk-screened Japanese Chiyogami paper to define the space surrounding the blank heart shape, cutting another flower shape from a different Chiyogami paper that…
Where I live, it’s cold, windy, and grey. The days are short, and I prioritize seeking light and warmth.Bare tree branches, delicately etched against the winter sky, present a stark beauty that mirrors the experience of grief. When the forest branches are bare, they reveal vistas that often go unnoticed when covered in foliage. Similarly, allowing ourselves to be open to grief can bring to light previously unseen aspects of ourselves as we heal. Recognizing my growth, despite the loss…
I composed my artist’s prayer several years ago while struggling to balance my career with my passion for art. This has always been a challenge for me. Looking back, it reminds me of my struggle to balance life with grief. I seek light, insight, and peace while accompanied by the sorrow of missing my husband and partner. I studied the body’s chakra system or energy centers when I created this piece. The seven colors of the rainbow represent the main…
We often need to draw on our inner strength and resilience to face whatever life brings our way. I have discovered that creating art and leading a meaningful life after a loss requires me to “show up,” whether confronting a blank canvas or any other challenge. It involves being receptive to the whisperings of my heart and remaining open to inspiration, even when it seems elusive. Sometimes, it consists of sifting through uncomfortable feelings to find a tiny sparkle of…
I’ve always wanted to listen to my heart, but it wasn’t until I began to heal from the most traumatic loss of my life that I truly started to hear what my heart was telling me. Now, I’m following a path guided by its messages. Although the path is not clearly defined, an essential part of being the queen of my heart involves taking the time and giving myself the space needed to figure things out. This means practicing self-compassion…
This miniature canvas emerged from my quest for my unique true north. During this journey, I discovered I can honor and care for myself without needing permission or relying on anyone else. Initially, I viewed self-care as well, just plain selfish, but I began to realize it was essential for healing from loss. Instead of associating self-care with being self-absorbed, I eventually understood that I could better connect with and reach out to others by taking care of my own…