In the beloved champion for creative living, The Artist’s Way, author Julia Cameron invites readers to sign a contract promising to engage with two important creative commitments. The first promise is to write morning pages (three pages of free-writing every morning); and the second, is to commit to a weekly artist date to nurture your creativity.

While taking myself on artist dates is something I’ve been doing for years, well before engaging with The Artist’s Way, I appreciate that Cameron has created a container, a name, for this creative act.

Here is how she describes an artist date:
“...An artist date is a block of time…especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist. In its most primary form, the artist date is an excursion, a play date that you preplan and defend against all interlopers.”

Cameron goes into great detail about why consistent artist dates are important, and how they should be protected. This is dedicated time (a minimum of two hours per date) to connect with your creative spirit, for self-nurturing, and what she calls “filling the well” with presence and inspiration.

Going on an artist date really does feed the soul. I love that it’s something to do alone (also a mandate of the artist date in The Artist’s Way) because there is no one pulling you to look at something, or conversations distracting from the experience, and no negotiation about what to do. It’s just you with yourself, doing something that nourishes the artist within.

It’s also a great way to get out of your usual space and routine, away from chores, work, and other everyday tasks. It pulls you out of the familiar pace of life and into an environment that requires you to reflect, to pay attention and just be.

This time to myself is enriching because I can just wander, discover something new, and collect inspiration. Whether it’s going to a play or an indie film, sitting in a cafe reading a magazine, browsing a fleamarket, museum shop or art supply store, it’s dedicated time to be curious, to create, play, learn and notice the world.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we nurture our creative selves. Or really more about how much we don’t. How we abandon the interests that feed us, leaving them to collect dust and get buried under the demands of life. How easily we forget that thing that lights us up because we let the myths of lack of time, money, or energy distract us away. Or how we ignore the call, sometimes a little tiny whisper, asking us to do something, anything to fill our creative cups. How often we don’t allow ourselves to be free, which is what creative expression can give us.

It has me wondering about you, this vibrant community, are you going on artist dates? Are you taking the time to nurture your curiosity, to get messy, to see beauty? Or are you letting the noise of the world bog you down with worry and discontent? Is the busyness of life keeping you from being in the presence of the things that truly ignite you?

I would love to see more of us being intentional about feeding our creative selves, especially now. With everything happening around us we need this block of time more than ever, not to escape but to recharge, to refuel, and to be more human. Then we can come back into the flow of our lives refreshed and perhaps with new ideas on how to be and do better.

Reflect: When is the last time you went on an artist date? An outing just for you that fed your creative spirit?

Prompt: Whether or not you’ve gone on an artist date recently, book 1-2 non-negotioable artist dates within the next 30 days. Where will you go? What will you do? How much time will you give yourself? Then document your experience. It’s better to be in the moment, so try not to be on your phone too much, but take photos of what you created or perhaps something that inspired you. You can also journal or do a voice recording about your date. How did it feel? What did you learn? What caught your eye? This documentation is just for you, but if you’d like, please feel free to share with me. I’d love to see what you did for your artist date.

Feeling stuck on what to do? Here are some ideas for your next artist date:
Visit a fleamarket or farmer’s market
Peruse books or sit and sketch in a quiet corner at the library
Go to a cultural event
Browse a bookstore
Go to a concert, see a play or an indie film
Go to a park and read/journal/write/draw
Wander through a museum, gallery, or street fair
Take a workshop
Go to a student exhibition at a nearby art school
Go on a treasure hunt at an antique or vintage shop
Sit in a cafe and read a new magazine
Explore a craft or fabric store
Look for ideas in an art supply or stationery store

Hey everyone, it's July and I hope you're on the beach. I hope you are by a pool. I hope you are relaxing in your yard, chilling on vacation, doing something light, fun, and easy. And of course, doing it, reading this.

I waited to the last minute to work on this article as I am preparing to take some time off for the rest of July and early August, but I really wanted to make sure I sent out my monthly newsletter to all of you. I am trying to be committed and consistent and making sure I'm sending out this monthly Substack article as I promised myself. But I did cheat a little bit for this month because it's been busy despite the fact that it is July and it is summertime. I decided to reshare a newsletter that I had written a few years back.

I hope that you're not working. I hope you're not even thinking about work right now. But I thought that this could be a good one to send, a little something you can put in your back pocket as we settle into our summer vibe and then prepare for September when everything starts back up again.

So this is a piece about when work is slow. What can we do? How can we take advantage of that time? How can we use it to revamp our portfolios or make new connections? I hope that the advice that I had written some time ago still applies for you today.

For many of us, art and design opportunities have dwindled in the last two years. With that, I would like to answer a common question I have been getting from fellow artists, which is: what do I do when art and design commissions have slowed down?

If you have the privilege to take some time off this is a good time to do so. Relax or use this time to make new personal work, brush up on some skills (take a class or workshop), update your website, and take some inspiration field trips. Reflect on your creative goals, do some reading and writing. There’s a lot happening with platforms and creative digital tools updating their terms—dig a little to find out what’s really going on. It’s also an ideal time to examine your business practices and think about ways to expand, cut back, or maybe even pivot.

If you need to focus on finding new work I recommend reaching out to former colleagues, professors, or alumni groups (if you went to a higher ed institution) and let them know you’re available for new opportunities. Teach or host a workshop at your local school, library, art institution, or community center. Consider pitching to new potential clients. Also, if you’re currently freelancing don’t be afraid to get a full or part-time job, be creative with it and look for opportunities that will allow you to widen your skills (like, part-time social media content creator for an arts org if you’re an artist who loves social media, museum shop display stylist if you are into interior design, etc.)

These are all promising and practical things we have all heard before. I do think they are worth considering, but I have one tip that I think outweighs all of the above and yet, can be done simultaneously.

The best thing we can all do, regardless if we are looking for new work or taking a sabbatical, is to ask a fellow artist what they need, or how we can support them. While we figure out our own stuff, this is also a time to do something for someone else. Because when we do, that energy of support inevitably comes back to us.

So what does that look like? Here’s a list to spark some ideas:
- Make a recommendation to an art director you know is looking for new talent
- Order a print from your favorite artist
- Invite a young designer to speak to your students (be sure to offer an honorarium)
- Write an email to a local newspaper to mention an art event happening in your town
- Offer to buy a membership to an industry association for another artist
- Add some links to your favorite creative people on your newsletter
- Volunteer at a local art event
- Write a good review for a movie/book/exhibition/performance you recently enjoyed
- Donate art supplies
- If you decline a commission be sure to recommend some other names for the project

Let’s create a cycle of support. What would happen if each of us did a minimum of 3 things each month to support someone in our community? Imagine the impact that would have.

Along that same vein, here are some folks in arts industries I am currently inspired by:
Amanda Lobos - Brazilian based illustrator whom I learned about during a recent portfolio review
Du-Good Press - Black-owned fine art screenprinting studio based in Brooklyn
Check out this fabric line called Counter, by e Bond
Look at these gorgeous prints by artist/illustrator Diane Ejaita

Reflect: How often are you supporting your fellow artist friends?
Prompt: In the next month try at least one of the above suggestions for supporting a small art business, someone who is self-employed, or an art institution.

For the last fifteen years I’ve kept what I call an idea book. Over that time I have amassed twelve books. These blank pages have been a place of refuge, a space for me to dream and to collect the many ideas that frequently cross my mind.

This process allows me to clear my headspace so I don’t have to remember every thought or concept. Instead they are safely captured and it is comforting to know I can always come back to them later.

My idea books are usually used to brainstorm, mind-map, and do quick doodles for a concept. It also functions as a place to plan, to calculate money coming in and out, and write down my creative goals and to-dos. Many books and illustration projects started as a quick note or thumbnail sketch on a page from one of these notebooks.

In recent years my idea books have been used more for planning and strategizing how to execute said dreams and ideas. While I do keep a digital calendar and capture notes in the Notes app, analog writing in these notebooks have become a daily practice that anchors me and keeps me organized. And quite honestly I remember better in written form.

Recently, on Instagram, I shared a glimpse of my collection of these idea books and the three reasons why maintaining them is one of my essential creative habits. Since the post, there have been questions asking for more specific details about how I use the notebook, so I decided to share them here.

What kind of notebooks I use:
I’ve used Moleskine Cahier XL unlined since the very beginning of this practice. I didn’t choose this brand for any particular reason. The notebook was introduced to me during a faculty meeting when I was teaching at Stevenson University back in the day. Our department chair gifted each faculty member a notebook (in kraft color) and as an activity, she invited us to stamp the cover with words related to visual communication design (our department).

Since then I have liked the style and colors and just kept going with the same notebook for consistency. Although the colors have changed over the years (first kraft, gray, then Brisk blue), keeping the same size and style makes it easy to store them all together and for my brain to easily recognize them for their specific purpose.

Aside from capturing ideas, here is how I use my books for planning (these are fairly new practices I started within the last two years or so):

Daily use
Usually the night before (or if I didn’t get around to it, then the morning of) I plan how I’d like my day to go for the following day. To help me organize the day I write down my tasks in hourly segments from 9:00-4:00. Those tasks are generally related to the goal or assignment that needs to be completed that week, but also includes lunch breaks, time for drawing or research, meetings or any other thing that needs to happen during the day.

If there is a meeting, the notebook is also where I write down what I will present and/or questions, and it’s where I document any notes from that meeting (like question responses, follow-up needs, etc.).

Weekly use
Every Friday or Sunday night I plan the following week. I make a small five day grid, one column for each day of the week with the weekday at the top. Above the grid I write the week date (like week of June 15th) and then I write 3-5 goals for that week. (Again, my daily tasks usually coincide with reaching those goals.) It always feels good to go back and cross out completed tasks and see what was achieved that week, but honestly I don’t always go back right at the end of the week to make sure.

If you don’t already keep an idea book and this inspires you to start one here are a few tips:

• Choose the format that works for you. I prefer blank pages because they give me the freedom to draw as well as keep notes. I also love that these particular notebooks open flat, and that the cover can be customized. Covering mine with doodles and stickers is a way I personalize mine.

• Don’t overthink it or feel like anything has to be perfect. Y’all, my pages are MESSY, sometimes stained from a spill, notes with misspellings, many unfinished weekly plans and schedules, post-it notes, and even random grocery shopping lists. There are no rules. In fact, too many rules makes it harder to maintain. My only rule is that I finish the notebook before starting a new one.

• Include dates, with the year as much as possible. It helps place that notebook in time. I add the year it was used and completed on the back, and I try to remember to add a date on the very first page when I start a new one.

• Carry it with you when you can. Whether I’m going to a cafe, my kids’ judo practice, to a talk, a museum, out to lunch, I bring it along just in case an idea pops up or a I have a few minutes to jot some things down.

Reflect: How do you currently capture your ideas?
Prompt: If you do have an idea book write down 3-5 ways it helps you navigate your creative practice. Because it’s been such a natural part of my daily life, I did not realize how important this creative habit was for me until sharing it with others. Reflecting on how we benefit from a ritual can help honor its significance and therefore commit to doing it consistently. If you do not have a practice of writing down your ideas, think about why—perhaps you don’t need one or have other ways to remember your ideas.

This wooden bookshelf covers one entire wall of a guest bedroom. It is home to our familial archive, and a treasure trove of memories and generational artifacts. The shelves overflow with weathered National Geographic magazines exposing their faded yellow spines; random American history books from my father’s time in the service; notes tucked away in notebooks; plastic covered photo albums with padded bindings; Bibles from the 70s; poetry books; my art history books from art school; books about herbal remedies, dreams, cosmology and astrology; fairytales, memoirs, and vintage cookbooks; family photos, religious iconography, and other trinkets.

My mother has not purchased any books in recent decades, but whenever I go back to visit I find myself at that bookshelf looking for something new or different, and I always find a thing I hadn’t seen before—or maybe a something that has been waiting for me to discover it all along.

That’s what happened when I came across Shakti Gawain’s book, Creative Visualization, almost twelve years ago. The word “creative” on the spine caught my eye, and after paging through the book I was deeply intrigued. Visualizing my life was a topic of interest at the time (and still is now) and this felt like synchronicity. This discovery was the perfect tool for where I was on my path at that moment—preparing for a creative transformation.

“Where did you find this book?” I asked my mother when I showed her the cover.“Girl, I have no idea where that came from,” she responded.

I tucked it away in my bag and for the next few weeks absorbed the text.

In Gawain’s Creative Visualization, she covers a lot of ground in the realm of creating the life you desire through imagination, manifestation, verbal and written affirmations, dreaming and prayer. There was one section (only a page and a half long) and concept that I had not heard about before reading this book. In this chapter called Being, Doing, Having, she talked about how we often operate from a place of believing we need to have something, to do something, in order to be what we most desire (insert: happy, fulfilled, rich, etc.). For example, one might believe they need to have a lot of money before they can do the dream project in order to be happy. (i.e. I’ll be happy when I have XYZ, or this equation: having + doing = being).

According to Gawain, this thinking is backwards. She suggests that we be happy/fullfilled/rich now. Being those things is a choice, a state of mind. Then action draws us closer to what we deeply desire. (So this equation: being + doing = having.)

In other words, for the above example, we have to choose to be happy first, while we do what we need to do to execute the dream project, and the result may bring a lot of money, or something more, like bring us closer to ourselves.

This idea was groundbreaking for me. While examining my own questions about self-worth and enough-ness, that little section taught me to get focused on feeling whole and connected to a deep sense of self by being present, happy and grateful in the now. Then creating (or doing) from that grounded place, versus from a place of lack, survival or victim mode, or ingratitude.

You can do the doing all you want—like hustle hard, pursue your dreams, and create beautiful art, and even be successful doing so, but if you are not settled in your being (or at least doing the work to get there), none of that work or its results will fulfill you. You’ll keep looking and searching, reaching and striving until you burn yourself out. If success or accolades do come, they may sustain you for a while, but over time after the excitement fades, the success no longer fits, aligns or feels right because you’re asking it to represent something it can never be.

So often we pursue an idea, an aspiration, or a project because we believe it will affirm something we want to feel, or fill, inside of ourselves. We can say all day that we want to be a best selling author, a celebrated artist, or an award-winning singer but those are masks for wanting to feel enough or worthy. And no award, amount of money, or anything in the external world can make you feel whole. Feeling worthy and enough is an inside job.

Be happy now. Be fulfilled now. Be grateful now. Be worthy now. Feel abundant, rich, and free now. And make your art from that place.

I never did find out how Creative Visualization ended up in my mother’s home, but I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m just grateful that magical bookshelf gifted me this book and the lesson of remembering to feel and be whole, take action and the rest will come.

Reflect: How are you being in your creative life? Do you create from a place of gratitude, urgency, joy, striving, to be seen, purpose, or to prove something to someone? Are you showing up as your full self? Are you being honest about what you want to create?
Prompt: On a sheet of paper, in your journal or sketchbook, list some words that describe what state of being you are creating from. Think about the energy or deep intentions behind why you create what you create. Be deeply honest with yourself. Here are some words to help: disciplined, motivated, inspired, committed, creative, imaginative; angry, desperate, stressed, unmotivated, tired.

Read over your reflection responses and word list, then examine if there is anything you want to change.

Remember: you are the magic in what you create.

This was the message in a recent note I shared here, and I’d like to add a little more.

You are a being collecting a lifetime of beliefs, exchanges, stories, and wisdom through the filters of your human experience—those filters are what we often call our identities. With awareness and intention, using those filters, you creatively express what is uniquely you.

What I am talking about here is your creative voice.

How you process your inspirations.

How you tell the story.

And how you execute an idea.

But in order for your creative expression to feel in alignment to you, you have to be clear about who you are in your creativity.

That means doing the work to excavate the why and the how of your art. It means nurturing your creative practice by consistently developing and refining your skills, experimenting, researching and then executing. It is a matter of being explicit about your inspirations and how they inform your work, and then how you interpret those inspirations into art.

With discipline, commitment, and purpose you are the magic in what you create.

Reflect: In the context of your creative life, have you ever really sat down to think about why you like what you like?

Prompt: Examine the threads of your inspirations. Maybe you are consistently drawn to Rococo paintings and 70s psychedelic art because both incorporate elaborate decorative motifs; it could be a love for poetry from the Harlem Renaissance and lyrics from early 90s hip-hop because of a certain rhythm or references to ideas of Black self-actualization; or a deep admiration for Gee’s Bend quilts and textiles from artist Sonia Delaunay because of their similar use of geometric shapes. Explore what ties your inspirations together and how it connects to what you create and why. In the form of a chart, with doodles, or a voice recording, capture what you discovered.

Place informs so many parts of us, if not all. What we put in and on our bodies. How we move through and live with the natural environment. The times we celebrate and the moments we grieve. It also impacts the way we synthesize the experiences and visual culture of a place into art, poetry music, dance, or moving image.

I rarely share about my experiences living in Sweden. Not sure why, but perhaps it’s because as I process this part of my life journey, my thoughts and perspectives about living here are ever-evolving. In writing or in conversation it’s been a challenge for me to summarize the complex layers of how life in Sweden sometimes inspires and bewilders me. Is it just here or is this what it is to live abroad?

This leaves me with endless questions around my ideas of identity, community, and culture—all topics essential to my creative practice. Whenever I think I have something figured out, another thing happens to challenge a previous thought or conclusion. Which I find to be a beautiful thing.

But after 8 years of calling this Scandinavian country my base, I can at least now articulate how living here has informed how I create:

Swedish Traditional Crafts
Crafts like ceramics, woodworking, and weaving are central to Swedish culture. There are frequent exhibitions, markets, workshops, or talks related to the craft traditions to keep them alive.

In neighborhoods throughout the city of Stockholm there are historic villages, oftentimes old farms or gardens, called a gård (which translates to courtyard, but that doesn’t quite describe what it is). In a gård, one can generally find a cozy cafe, a playground, a small gallery, and a workshop—usually a ceramics workshop. These spaces are protected and preserved by their municipalities and are seen as sanctuaries for locals to connect with nature, for kids to play, to create with artists by taking a ceramics or weaving class, or visit an art exhibition. These little villages are readily available for the community to explore creative expression while preserving practices that are fundamental to Swedish culture.

In the space where my studio is located, there are a few studio mates who are weavers, and their intricate looms and details in their textile pieces always captivate me. Ceramic workshops and markets lure me in, it’s hard to resist buying another little vessel or decorative plate. And the motifs found in Swedish folk art fascinate me, like the storytelling in wall paintings, embroidery and other textiles. For my work, it all has me thinking a lot about the objects we make and the cultural stories they hold—and it’s drawn me even closer to the artifacts of the African Diaspora.

Nature
There is a deep regard for nature in Sweden—so much so that green spaces are widely protected in general, but especially in urban environments. Because of this, making parks, playgrounds, waterfront spaces, trees, and gardens accessible to everyone is an important component to urban planning, especially in densely populated cities like Stockholm (maybe a little less so now, but there’s still some effort).

While I have always loved a nice walk by the water or sitting outside in the sun, living here has deepened my appreciation to nature. Like in the small moments finding delight in the array of springtime wildflowers blooming along my walk to the studio (random tulips, daisies, wild roses, and poppies); or welcoming the late summer blueberries, mushrooms, and wild strawberries growing in the forest behind our apartment building; and come fall, cherishing the bountiful pear and apple trees in my kids’ separate school yards. Some of these forms of plant-life are now a fixture in my drawings to signify abundance and self-reflection. They have also became a definitive inspiration for my latest book Maya’s World, which is centered around imagination and nature.

Cultural Diversity
Y’all weren’t expecting this one, were you?

Being in multicultural environments is not entirely new for me. I grew up with an immigrant mother and was a part of a close-knit diverse immigrant community in the D.C. area. But within my peer group, my friends and the neighborhood kids I went to school with, we were all basically culturally American, and more specifically for me, Black American. And this did not change that much in my adulthood.

Moving to Stockholm, a widely immigrant populated city, I have been exposed to more cultural diversity than ever. Our family alone spans five continents.

In grade school I was the only one of a handful of kids who could speak another language, was first generation, or had a parent from another country. It’s very different for my children. Most of their friends speak at least one other mother tongue language and/or have at least one immigrant parent.

This diversity is also very apparent in my art community. From Chile to Iran, Italy to The Gambia, Eritrea to Spain, Brazil to Ethiopia, I have been blessed to meet incredible creators from all over the world. Like artists, designers, writers, activists, and connectors Marcia Harvey Isaksson, Sissela Nordling Blanco, Nkuli Mlangeni Berg, Rana Kadry, Benedetta Crippa, Saba Tadele Gebrewold, Lọlá Ákínmádé, Rafaela Stålbalk Klose, Ruthie Semere, Mam Foon, Woody Oliphant, Saadia Hussain…there are just way too many to name (please check out their work)! They have introduced me to books, art, movements, and most importantly, ideas about what it means to activate and connect with your creative community.

This place has expanded my worldview, forced me to examine my judgements and assumptions, and reimagine what it means to be in this body, doing this work, in this point in time.

Moving abroad comes with its ups and downs, and yet I am grateful for how this experience has truly enhanced my life and art. It’s been a powerful reminder of what place can do.

Here is a point of reflection and a prompt to think about in your art-making practice:

Reflect: How has place impacted your creative practice?
Prompt: We often get so caught up in our day-to-day that we miss the inspiration that place can give us. Because we see the same bodega, park, or bus-stop every day, we can overlook all of the life happening in those spaces/places. The streets, the vegetation, the people, the small interactions, the colors…

For the next week or so pay attention to what you see in your physical home, workspace, city, neighborhood, school, and/or community spaces. In the form of doodles, words, or collage (or any way you’d like to express) capture descriptions, feelings, interactions or sounds you have observed. Use your findings to help answer the reflection point above.

In the fall of 1998 (whew child that’s a long time ago!) I started my sophomore year at Temple University’s Tyler School of Art where I’d be pursuing a B.F.A in graphic design. Part of the required curriculum was to take art electives in other disciplines. As a design major, we were heavily encouraged to take printmaking courses like lithography, linocut, or etching. I decided to sign up for serigraphy, also known as screen-printing.

The course was challenging. As an art school novice, the projects were a bit over my head, and I didn’t really vibe with the professor, but that was ok—I wasn’t there to be cool with her, I was there to learn. Over the semester falling in love with screen-printing did not happen as I had hoped. Screen-prints are generally beautiful, I love the results. But the process of making the stencils, applying the emulsion, burning the screens, printing and then stripping the screens was a lot.

Then came the semester review. This is when you meet with your professor one-on-one to discuss the body of work you produced, and you are given an analysis of your development throughout the course. Sitting in her tiny office piled with art books and prints, the professor shared that she could see I was struggling with the course content. She then asked, “What are your plans? What are you going to major in?” I confidently told her I was going to declare graphic design as my major, and she said to me, “You know, I don’t think you have what it takes to be a graphic designer.”

Gulp.

I can’t recall my verbal response, but I remember how her words felt in my body. They shocked me. Those words rang in my ears down through the center of my chest. They traveled through me but didn’t stay. My core rejected them. Because I did not believe her. I believed in myself.

I came to the art school program with ZERO experience. No art camps during my grade school years, no real exposure to the concepts of fine art or design. I had taken one art class the spring semester of my senior year in high school and two during my freshman year in college. With that, my portfolio was just not up to par, so it took me three tries to get accepted to the Tyler School of Art. I knew I was behind, so I was eager to catch up. There was a hunger for guidance and information. While it’s not always easy to take in harsh feedback I was open to it, yearning to learn more, to collect constructive criticism and direction as I embarked upon this creative path.

Because this professor was an artist, an educator, and an expert her assessment was important to me. But when she tried to speak onto my life without really knowing anything about me or having any genuine curiosity about my pursuits, my inner alarm went off. This professor, who was not even a graphic design instructor, tried to guide me away from something I knew with every fiber of my soul that I at least wanted to try.

My deep belief was stronger than her words and opinion. I knew what I was capable of, I knew that I could pursue this thing and that I had to see for myself if it was at all possible.

Later my semester review with my Intro to Graphic Design professor was a completely different experience. Honestly, I struggled in that course, too. She did not sugarcoat my shortcomings or try to mask that I had a lot of catching up to do, but she said she could see the potential. With my notebook in hand I feverishly captured her words of advice. She gave me names of artists and designers to research, exercises to try, and book titles to read. This professor encouraged me but reminded me that I had to be curious and put in the work to succeed.

Four years later, I graduated with the top design portfolio of the class. I went on to work as a graphic designer and then taught college level graphic design. I did in fact have what it took to be a graphic designer.

This is a reminder that it is vital for us to be grounded in who we are and what we believe we can do. This is not a permission slip to be delusional but to be clear about what is in your spirit. You know deep down what you’re capable of, you know what you can bring to the table and you know what you have in you to create.

Be careful who you let speak onto your life, especially before you even try the thing you know you want to do. Believe in yourself so deeply that when people challenge your pursuits, you’re not easily shaken off course. Constructive criticism is necessary. We can always take feedback but use discernment to determine if it really applies. Be curious about where the message is coming from. Ask, are these words in alignment with what I know to be true for me? Do I trust this person, do they know the journey? Be deeply rooted in yourself, in your capabilities, in your dreams, in your ambitions because people are always going to try to tell you who you should be and what you can or cannot do.

Until next time, consider this point of reflection and prompt for your creative practice:

Reflect:
Deep down, what do you believe you can create?

Prompt: So often we ignore what we feel in our body because we are unable to “logically” express what is going on—it’s something we just know. Believing is rooted in a knowing we sometimes can’t explain. Where do you feel belief in your body? In your chest, legs, back? Say any one of the following statements to yourself and pay attention to how those words feel in your body. Do they feel true for you? Whether they do or don’t, record a voice note or write in your journal on why?

I am an artist.

I am creative.

What I create is worthy of being expressed.

I am worthy of my creative dreams.

My art is powerful.

Subscribe now

From a tiny industrial district about a ten minute drive from the city center of Stockholm, and a fifteen minute walk from my neighborhood, I am sitting at a messy desktop in my studio excitedly writing this piece with so much to say but not sure where to begin…

But how lovely to begin again with a blank slate that is this Substack newsletter.

Let’s start here: Ten years ago my life shifted in a big way. Just before releasing my first book (I Love My Hair) I met a man who swept me off my feet and together we planned a future that involved me moving from Baltimore to his hometown of Stockholm, Sweden. In the midst of falling in love, launching a new-ish illustration business and then a book career, I learned on my Becoming Me book-tour that I was expecting my first child—my sweet boy Isa.

There were a lot of beginnings happening all at once. Moving to Sweden, becoming a mother, a business owner abroad, and a wife overwhelmed me with the new and unknown. So much so, my spirit and body felt undone. It showed up in various ways. Over the years following my move, my anxiety had increased and my nervous system was overloaded. My shoulders lived up to my ears, lungs chipping for air, always tight, on edge, constantly anticipating another hurdle that often never came. I was (am) exhausted.

Can you relate? Can you remember a time when you had to begin again and it completely transformed, rocked, or ignited you?

After some deep excavating, listening and paying close attention to my body and my inner world, I remembered that creative expression is my place of solace. And in that calm I could process the new, I could embrace the unfamiliar and know that I had what it took to make it through whatever was happening in my world.

While starting a Substack newsletter is not much in comparison to big life changes, it is unfamiliar and it is something new. For me it is beginning again. To be naive and open and not tainted by the “rules,” I am coming to this space with not much knowledge about what it means to engage with you here. And I love that. We get to make this little corner of this platform whatever the f* we want and that’s what we will do.

Engaging with our creativity can help us navigate rough patches, be present in the storm, and liberate our minds. Like it did for me when trying to cultivate community in a new city, finding care for an aging parent back in the U.S., or nurturing a design and illustration business during these times.

With that, my only intention here is to share some ideas and musings with you in the hopes that we all feel free to create what we want. And perhaps sometimes do so together. Because when we create, we come back to ourselves. When we come back to ourselves we can better formulate ideas and solutions to then transform our communities (for the better).

I hope you will come here for inspiration, for prompts to spark your curiosity, or for a self-nurturing moment of respite from the adventures of life. Here we can reinvigorate our creative pursuits, or begin a new one. Welcome to When We Create.

Until next time, here is a prompt for you to consider in your creative practice:
Reflect: How does_{——————} (insert your thing: writing poetry, taking photographs, dancing, collaging) make you feel?
Prompt: For the next few weeks document in a journal, notebook, or sketchbook what it feels like for you. This means you’ll have to engage in your creative activity of choice, and then pay close attention to what it feels like in your body, your spirit, and in your heart when you do. Are there images, textures, colors, or sounds that represent those feelings? Doodle, write a poem, collage, free write words or thoughts that come to mind when you are expressing your creativity. Capture it all in a space (journal, digital notebook, etc.) you can come back to.

Subscribe now