There is a difference between seeing art and experiencing it.
In a gallery, a piece is complete. Resolved. Presented.
In a studio, it is alive.
This season, several artists connected to The Curated Life are participating in the Calgary Artist Studio Tour, opening their spaces and inviting you into the places where their work begins.
When people hear the words The Curated Life, they may picture something polished.
A home that always looks beautiful. A schedule that runs perfectly. A person who has it all together, makes no mistakes, and somehow moves through life without worry or mess.
But that is not real life.
The new year often begins with pressure to become, to improve, to hustle. We’re flooded with resolutions, goal-setting, and the subtle belief that who we are now is not enough.
But this year, I’m beginning differently.
Not with a list.
Not with urgency.
But with a quiet return to self.
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.
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.
Spring isn’t just a season, it’s a soft invitation to begin again. To open the windows, shake out the dust, and make space for something new to take root. If you’re like me, the urge to clear and clean hits hard this time of year. After months (or years, let’s be honest) of accumulation, clutter, and life happening at full speed, the mess starts to weigh on the spirit.
There was a time I questioned whether beauty really mattered.
With everything going on in the world, it felt small. Frivolous, even. But I’ve come to learn something that changed everything:
