I love being a witness to transformation. I’ve recently been paying attention to my own transformation into becoming more artistic. It’s similar to the transformation of the pieces I’ve been painting. I start with a blank canvas, and then I start with a light layer, then another, and another, then I add a mark or a gesture. More color, lines and other elements that give it more balance. All the while I’m discovering that this is similar to human transformation. We are just layers of days and years that have past. If you were able to tear the layers down you will find where you first began. Its so easy to forget that first layer. The most basic, the starting point. Every day others see us and sometimes we look finished, but they dont know what we were like before that last layer and they might not like the next layer we add on.

My finished mixed Media canvas, featuring vibrant greens, botanical pods, and white ink details.

Others see us and sometimes perceive us as finished, but they often don’t recognize what we were like before that last layer, nor do they know how they might feel about the next layer we add on. Just like in art, our growth is inspired by other artists and techniques, similar to how we develop as individuals. As children, we absorb influences from the people around us, and pieces of them become entwined within us, much like an artwork we create.

With these thoughts on transformation swirling in my mind, I stared down at my very first mixed-media canvas. It was intimidating to make that first mark, but I reminded myself that every mistake would just become a hidden, beautiful layer of the final piece.

Through the pieces I’ve created, I’ve witnessed how we can change from ugly to beautiful, from quiet to loud. We can improve, we can transform. This process gives me insight into the lives of others and how the surface we see does not always reflect who they have been. They have changed, they too possess layers we haven’t seen. How did they reach this point? What experiences shaped them along the way? Were there spills and splatters, bumps and holes? Transformation is beautiful to observe, it is both messy and magnificent.

It’s funny, or perhaps surprising, when I look at this piece. I find myself thinking, “How did it get here?” I can’t believe I created this. It was entirely unplanned and stemmed from an intuitive process. I began with a blank piece of 5 x 7 watercolor paper and decided to keep some acrylic paints in my dining room for spontaneous painting opportunities. The green tube caught my attention, so I squeezed some paint onto my tray and started applying it as a background. It felt almost as if my hand glided up and down the page without any specific intention, simply moving freely. I allowed the paint to fall wherever it wanted. In the spots that remained white from the brush not having enough paint on it as it made its way up and down, I decided to open up my watercolors and add a variation of greens and yellows over the green acrylic paint.

The background felt so alive. The next most natural step that pulled me was to add pops of color through some organic shapes. I played with different shapes, textures, and earthy tones—deep browns, plums, and vibrant magentas. Some shapes got a solid coat of opaque paint, while others received intricate patterns, like the brown pod with scale like textures right in the center.

This is where the true magic happened, and the piece began to come together. I used paint pens and fine brushes to add white and gold line work over the dry blocks of paint. I traced the outlines of the petals, etched delicate veins into the green leaves, and added tiny whimsical dots.

I am so proud of this piece. I felt as if I was in a trance, and I don’t think I could recreate it, even if I wanted to. I really enjoyed this process; it was freeing and relaxing. I can honestly say I was completely lost in the moment. I think I might add some final touches, but it feels pretty finished to me.