I didn’t always paint like this.
There was a time when I believed I had to get it right. That art had to be clear, representational, perfectly formed. That people needed to understand what they were looking at, or it didn’t count. That’s what I thought art was.
Until one day, it wasn’t enough.
There were things I was feeling that couldn’t be contained in lines and likeness. Emotions too raw for realism. Thoughts I didn’t want to name. And so I turned to abstraction. Tentatively at first, unsure of where it would take me.
But what I found changed not only my art… it changed me.
“Abstract art has taught me to become more comfortable with uncertainty, to embrace feelings and not overthink them.”
Feeling, Not Overthinking
In abstraction, I found freedom from perfectionism.
I wasn’t following rules. I was following feeling.
And in doing so, I stopped thinking my way through pain and started letting it move through me.
I didn’t have to name it. I didn’t have to explain it.
I just had to let it speak in shape, texture, and tone.
Abstract art became my therapy. My meditation. My mirror.
“Abstract art doesn’t need to make sense to touch the heart. It activates the emotional centers of the brain. It invites you to interpret, to reflect, to fill in the gaps with your own story.”
What Neuroscience Now Confirms
It turns out the brain loves abstraction too.
Neuroscientists have found that abstract art activates the brain’s default mode network; the part that lights up during reflection, imagination, and emotional processing. It engages us deeply, even if we don’t consciously “understand” what we’re looking at.
In fact, researchers have shown that abstract art:
In other words: our brains are built to meet abstraction halfway.
We want to fill in the blanks.
We need the space to reflect, imagine, and feel.
Becoming Comfortable with Not Knowing
The more I painted abstractly, the more I noticed something else shift.
I became more comfortable with uncertainty. Not just on the canvas, but in life.
I no longer needed to control every outcome or define every step.
I started trusting my instincts, both creatively and personally.
Every blank canvas became a metaphor for my day: I don’t know where this is going, but I trust myself to make something beautiful from it.
Abstraction gave me a new kind of confidence. Not the loud kind. The quiet, grounded kind. The kind that says, “You don’t have to know. You just have to begin.”
“These mediums have a mind of their own. They don’t obey. They dance.”
Texture, Energy, and the Unspoken
I use materials that invite the unknown; ink that drips unpredictably, wool that shifts with moisture, layers of cold wax that blur the line between shape and shadow.
These mediums have a mind of their own. They don’t obey. They dance.
And I love them for it.
Because life is like that too; messy, layered, unplanned.
And yet, when I step back… it always forms something honest.
“Abstraction isn’t about telling. It’s about inviting.”
Letting the Viewer Complete the Work
One of the things I love most about abstract art is how it invites conversation, not instruction.
Viewers bring themselves to the piece. Their own memories, emotions, associations. And often, what they see has nothing to do with what I intended.
That’s the beauty of it.
Abstraction isn’t about telling. It’s about inviting.
It’s a visual language for what can’t be spoken, but still needs to be heard.
The Art of Becoming
So why do I love abstract art?
Because it’s the most honest reflection of how I experience life now.
It’s fluid. Unpredictable. Emotional. Evolving.
It mirrors what I’ve come to believe: that every day is a blank canvas, full of potential and uncertainty.
And instead of fearing the unknown, I get to meet it with trust.
Not knowing has become… exciting.
Just like my art, I don’t know where I’m going.
I just know it will turn out just right.
Curator. Artist. Holistic living advocate.
I created The Curated Life as a sanctuary for intentional living. Where art, design, wellness, and soulful practices meet. With roots in both natural health and creative expression, my work is about curating not just spaces, but lives that feel deeply aligned.
Here, I share reflections, rituals, and creations that speak to the heart and heal the spirit.
This isn’t about perfection. It’s about resonance.
Welcome home.
Search Blog
I didn’t always paint like this.
There was a time when I believed I had to get it right. That art had to be clear, representational, perfectly formed. That people needed to understand what they were looking at, or it didn’t count. That’s what I thought art was.
Until one day, it wasn’t enough.
Autumn isn’t the end. It’s the pause before the becoming.
A soft hush between seasons. A golden threshold.
Where trees let go without resistance.
Where air cools, light stretches, and we begin again. Not from scratch, but from truth.
My dad is one of the most positive and joyful people I know. Curious about his constant optimism, I once asked him, “How do you stay so positive and encouraging all the time?” His response was surprisingly simple: “I just hate being miserable.” That answer made me pause. Could it really be that straightforward? Our mindset has the incredible power to shape our lives.
