I’ve been a little under the weather the past few days, and being still is not something I do well. My mind is always in motion, always connecting, creating, wondering. While I wouldn’t trade that for anything, boredom creeps in quickly when my body forces me to slow down. So, I turned to my art books. I revisited Basquiat (always my favorite), Banksy, Haring, and others. I lingered over their lines, their symbols, their fearless messages. And I was reminded why I love street

This blog is usually a place where I linger with art, beauty, and the small, human moments that soften the edges of daily life. It is where I look closely, slowly, at color, texture, process, and becoming. What follows feels slightly outside that frame. And yet, it feels necessary. I am not a big sharer or talker. I’m an introvert, an empath, and a serious overthinker. The only people I regularly burden with those qualities are my immediate family and occasionally my closest

Witnessing kindness, creativity, and the quiet power of wonder from children. Lately, the world feels loud, heavy, and uncertain. There is so much anger, so much urgency, and so much pulling at our attention. Amid it all, I have realized how deeply grateful I am for the opportunity to step away from that noise and enter the world of children, even if only for a few hours each day. To slow down. To notice. To see joy and innocence in ways I had almost forgotten were possible.

It’s funny how something as simple as a blanket can open the door to so many thoughts and memories. These are what I think of as vintage memories, objects that speak without words, connect generations who never met, and remind us that love doesn’t disappear when someone is gone. It settles in quietly, waiting to be felt again. My mother-in-law has been thoughtfully going through the belongings in her home: mementos, memories, pieces of a life well lived. As she does, she sets

I’ve always believed that every person is an artist in their own right. Creativity isn’t limited to canvases or clay, it's everywhere. It shows up in engineering, gardening, street art, caring for others, and of course… food. There are endless ways we express who we are. For my youngest daughter, Kylie, her art shines most brightly in the kitchen. Every time she makes the trip home from school, she somehow arrives ready to feed us, as if finals, papers, and college life weren

My work often follows me home, and my experiences often follow me to work. I imagine that’s true for many of us. I once read that teachers can’t help but bring a part of themselves into their classrooms, and I couldn’t agree more. I just hope it’s always the best part of us that shows up. Recently, that part of me showed up in the form of lines, lines that connected my travels, my curiosities, and ultimately, to the children in the atelier. This past summer, I spent time sort

Certain moments quietly shine a light on where we fit and where there’s still room to grow. This weekend was one of those moments. It was...

This morning, I wandered through my overgrown and somewhat neglected garden. I love being outdoors, but the heavy humidity and relentless...

This week, my oldest daughter set off on a cross-country trip with her father. Their destination: Southern California. On the surface,...

The new school year is here, and you can feel it in the air. After two evenings at the Parent Fair, the energy is unmistakable, hallways...

On a recent hike, I stumbled across something completely unexpected, my favorite kind of art. Not the kind that hangs in galleries or...

“There is no higher honor than being the adult that a child chooses to share their wild treasures & discoveries with.” – Nicolette Sowder...

A Lesson from Nature The other day, something small and simple sparked a beautiful reflection. A child at school discovered a fallen...