We all need a change of scene from time to time. It lifts our energy, shifts our perspective, and brings us back to life—more grounded, more awake.
Paintings are no different.
Lately, a few new pieces have found a temporary home in my freshly painted bedroom. The space feels calm and intentional—with soft light, fresh colour, and a slower rhythm. It’s the kind of environment that invites stillness. Perfect for reflection.
I didn’t hang these paintings to display them. I placed them there to listen. To observe. To let them exist quietly outside the studio.
Over the next few days—or maybe weeks, even months—I’ll live with them. I’ll pass them in the morning, glance at them in the evening and notice how they evolve in different moods of the day. This is how I know if a piece is complete—or if it’s still whispering for something more.
Some things can’t be rushed.
And honestly? I don’t want to rush them.
Because I’ve done that before. And it never works out.
When I try to force the finish, I lose something—that spark, that natural rhythm the painting was trying to find. So now I pause. I wait. I trust.
Letting my work settle like this has become a powerful part of my creative process.
I still find it scary but it’s a small act of trust. A reminder that art, like life, unfolds in its own time—and sometimes the most beautiful decisions come from stillness.