Lessons in Shadow

For years, I struggled to find my unique style. Once I thought I had it, ironically, my creativity actually suffered. I became more focused on maintaining this style than on art itself. This lead to creative blocks where I wouldn't create anything for days, weeks, months. It felt like I chased after something that ended up pushing me away.

I was holding onto a style that wasn't holding onto me, going after an ideal that didn't reciprocate my efforts. Sometimes we can get stuck in a vicious cycle of pursuing what doesn’t care to pursue us.

Life shows you what you need, and it doesn't always look like what you want. This was the case when I first picked up a piece of charcoal. I was curious to try it, but wasn't certain about it.

Then a light switched on.

Suddenly, the textures and atmospheres I struggled with before started to flow naturally. The subtlety of it captivated me—the way I could lay down impressions and let the shadows and light guide a viewer’s eye to complete a scene.

Charcoal teaches me to slow down and really see what's in front of me—to appreciate the process rather than obsess over the finished work. It's pure delight to watch unintended shapes emerge. With every piece, I'm creating new paths, and along those paths new discoveries are making their way toward me in profound and even unexpected ways, both on the canvas and off.

Working with charcoal guides me through a deeper understanding of the value of patience, the importance of pausing, and the beauty of letting go. I'm allowing myself to breathe through the moment, allowing the puzzle pieces to reveal themselves in their own time.

Charcoal whispers a challenge to forget my former constraints, surrender to the process, and walk gently into the unknown.