Why I Create
I was recently asked to reflect on what motivates me to make art and what the act of creating means to me. If I’m fortunate, that reflection may be included in a book, with a celebration this spring at one of my favorite galleries. Of course, I’ll share more if it comes to pass.
What motivates me to make art?
I am motivated to make art simply by who I am. For as long as I can remember, creating has been part of my DNA. As a small child, I used whatever materials were at hand; cardboard boxes became houses and dioramas, dirt turned into roadways with overpasses for toy cars, and scraps transformed into companions for a tiny ballerina doll. I painted, sculpted, and invented stories to go with it all.
Looking back, I remember a school project where we built pinhole cameras from film cartridges. I can still recall the awe and sense of magic I felt holding those small black-and-white images in my hand. Though the photos themselves are lost to time, one remains vivid in my mind: one of my brothers sitting on the sidewalk, the camera placed downhill, the glossy print precious in my hand.
As I grew older, I learned how to draw and sew, how to mix color and understand perspective. I loved creative writing and fancied myself as a teenage poet. Creativity wasn’t a single lane, it was a language I kept returning to, no matter what the medium.
It wasn’t until college, as a journalism student rediscovering the magic of photography, that I realized visual art could be a way of life. Thrilled that photo classes counted toward my major, I took every one offered, along with independent studies and graphic arts courses. It was a graphics instructor who first challenged me to work in mixed media. Neither of us could have imagined where that path would lead.
When I ask myself why I pursue art as a career, the answer always comes back to connection. I feel deeply connected to nature—to plants, animals, and the landscape—and I want to share that connection with others. I’ve always seen visual art as a form of communication, just as meaningful as the written word.
When someone spends time with my work, I hope they feel the same sense of wonder and joy I experience in nature, the thrill of discovering small details in half-hidden layers. I want them to feel peace and calm, to feel more connected to the natural world, and perhaps more motivated to protect it.
What does the act of creating mean to me?
The act of creating gives me hope and joy, a deep soul-level satisfaction that brings a kind of healing nothing else quite does. Sharing that hope, seeing others connect and feeling it too, is what keeps me moving forward as an artist.
Especially now, when so much of the world feels dark, creating art keeps me grounded. It reconnects me to the living world around me and offers the rest and comfort I need to continue.
When I’m in the studio, the process is deeply physical, tearing paper, transferring photos, painting, making marks. My hands are always in something tactile, keeping me fully present. I must envision what the piece is becoming, and in doing so, the work occupies my whole being. In that space, nothing else intrudes.
There, I can process what is difficult and transform it into something beautiful and healing, an act of hope, and an expression of my faith that good will ultimately win.
What does creating, or paying close attention, make possible for you?
If you’re moved to, take a few quiet minutes to journal about where creativity shows up in your life and what it offers you when you let it.
