Sometimes the simplest things bring the greatest freedom.
During my recent three-week artist residency, I experienced that freedom in the rhythm of each day — painting, walking along the shoreline, and watching fall transform everything around me. The shift in season wasn’t just something to witness; it moved through me and into the work.
The trees let go of their leaves, revealing their structure — bare, strong, and honest. I felt a parallel within myself as I stripped away what was no longer needed in the studio. Each stroke of paint became an act of release, a way of finding clarity through color and form.
The large studio allowed me to move easily between canvases, responding to what the day revealed — a flash of gold light through the window, a gust of wind carrying the scent of wood smoke. Each day began in the studio, painting with no interruptions, then walking the beach to see how the storms had changed the sand and stones overnight. The weather turned cooler, the colors deepened, and the air carried that sharp scent that only comes with fall. The shifts outside stirred something in my work.
The shoreline changed constantly — sand reshaped, stones gathered in new patterns, and each walk revealed something altered and alive. Those transformations found their way into my paintings — layers scraped back, rebuilt, and reimagined.
At night, I’d sit by the fire and think about how nature continually rebuilds itself. The flames flickered, and I began to see that simplicity isn’t stillness; it’s movement pared down to its essence.
The experience reminded me how essential it is to allow change into the creative process. Just as the trees shed their leaves, I learned to let go of expectations and trust what was emerging. That release felt like freedom.