Boldness Isn’t Always Loud
Sometimes it sounds like a block. A breath. A brushstroke. A boundary.
You don’t have to shout to be bold.
You don’t have to prove your worth to be whole.
You don’t have to be loud to take up space.
Some of the most powerful choices we ever make are the ones no one sees.
The Boldest Thing I’ve Ever Done Was Quiet
After a lifetime of trying to be accepted by my family, of shrinking, shapeshifting, and silencing parts of myself just to keep the peace, I finally made a different choice.
It happened quietly.
One phone call with my mother shattered what little tolerance I had left. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. I didn’t rage or plead. I just… blocked them.
No more “misunderstandings.”
No more playing mediator in someone else’s chaos.
No more being too much, too sensitive, too creative, too emotional.
There was grief, of course. Society doesn’t always make space for walking away from family. And in that quiet moment, I felt something I hadn’t felt in forever: safety.
And three and a half years ago, in the space left behind by all that noise, I found soft pastels.
Color Without Permission
The first time I used pastels, I felt free. No one told me how to do it. No one could compete or critique. I didn’t have to ask permission to choose purple shadows or end a piece with neon pink. I could just trust myself.
Pastels are tender, messy, and honest, and they gave me a language for the feelings I hadn’t spoken out loud yet. They became part of my healing.
Each painting became a quiet reclaiming of space. A reminder that boldness doesn’t have to be loud; it can be soft, layered, and deeply rooted.
You Don’t Need More Cowbell
(Yes, that’s a music reference, I have a music degree, and I played trombone!)
In music, anyone can play loud. To play softly, with control and emotion? That takes real breath and precision. That’s true boldness.
The same goes for life.
It’s easy to shout.
Harder to speak your truth calmly.
Harder still to live it.
Now, I see boldness everywhere in my process:
In the way I mount my pastel paper, so I can layer wet, expressive underpaintings
In choosing vibrant, funky colors that reflect my eye, not what’s expected
In shifting how I speak about my work, less apologizing, more owning it
In deciding that I don’t create for everyone, and I never have to
My Work Is Here to Hold You, Too
If you’ve ever chosen the quiet path, the unglamorous, necessary, life-saving one, then you already know what I’m talking about.
You are my people.
My collectors often tell me they feel like they can step into my paintings. That they feel held, hugged, grounded. That’s on purpose. I create from a place of intentional softness and strength, and I hope you see a part of yourself in every horizon line and pop of unexpected color.
Because art isn’t just about beauty.
It’s about connection.
It’s about seeing and being seen.
It’s about honoring all the parts of you, even the quiet ones.
Where Will Your Bold Year Begin?
The 2026 Soft Seasons Calendar is open for Early Bird preorders now through July 8.
This calendar isn’t about shouting goals or filling squares. It’s about noticing the seasons. Feeling rooted. Creating rhythm. Choosing softness, again and again.
Boldness isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s leaving.
Sometimes it’s staying.
Sometimes it’s creating something tender in a hard world, and being proud of it.
Where will you hang your reminder?