Most of my artworks start off with photos.  A breathtaking sunset, a busy morning at the bird feeders, or a burst of color in the garden are all things that inspire me to take a few quick pictures with my phone "for later."  Sometimes those pictures don't get painted until years later!  Occasionally, they'll end up being used on the same day they were taken.  I've learned that most of the paintings I make from these photos end up being categorized as "seeds" or "sparks."  Sometimes, a set of photos will inspire me to create pairs or a series of pieces.  Often, a single photo will encourage me to try a new medium or technique, which then turns into a productive period of painting.

 

If you've ever planted seeds more than a few times, you understand that many of those seeds will fail to grow.  Sometimes an idea gets planted for a painting, started, and, despite my best efforts, it never bears fruit.  Similarly, I've had plenty of sparks that ignited ideas for paintings, but ended up fizzling before I even got started.

 

"Water Hawthorn" Acrylic on Canvas 2026

A painting that starts as a "seed" and is given plenty of time to grow and develop usually becomes a labor of love for me-- these paintings take a little more time, and I have higher expectations for them.  Often, the initial inspiration for the painting was so beautiful in its own right, it takes me a bit of courage to take on the subject in a painting.  When these paintings are done, I consider these seeds to have been successfully sown by several criteria: growth as an artist, connecting with an audience, or feeling inspired to continue painting the subject in the future.  

 

And then there are the sparks, and boy are they fun!

"Beachy Blackbirds" Pastel on paper 2026

A spark can come from several places: a few quick stunning photos from a recent memorable moment, new materials, or a desire to try an unexplored subject.  These pieces tend to be painted quickly (sometimes I joke that they paint themselves!) and can be hit or miss with results-- when I get a hit, I'll usually return to  that subject or style until the spark wears out. (In the piece above, I painted blackbirds on a bit of a whim, inspired by the light in the wet sand at the beach and a new little set of Sennelier half-stick pastels).

 

Whether a seed or a spark begins a painting, I often have mixed feelings when I sell that painting and pack it up to ship it to its new home.  The first feeling is elation.  Someone loved a piece enough to buy it! The second feeling, however, can be different with each sale. 

 

Sometimes, if a painting was painted and sold quickly, I might feel a little less attached to it-- or feel a little strange about saying goodbye to it if I didn't really spend much time with it once it was finished.  I might wonder if it has any flaws I missed, or if I should have painted companion pieces for it.  I think of these pieces as "hot potatoes," and have a special affection for them just because they get snatched up so quickly.

 

On the other hand, if I've had a painting for a long time before it sells, it can feel a little bittersweet to say goodbye to it-- mostly, though, I'm happy that it found a home, and that it will be displayed.  I'll think of what stage of life I was in when it was painted, and marvel at how different things are now that it's time to unpack it and send it off to a new home.  I genuinely enjoy unpacking these pieces and having a good look at them.  It feels a little like having a time machine when I take that cover off, and take in the colors and pastel or brush strokes on a piece.  Recognizing my old techniques or styles feels like seeing an old friend, and helps me remember what it was like to sit and make those paintings.  I then give these pieces a fresh covering of Glassine paper, and package them securely to ship.

 "Oriole 2" Pastel on paper 2025 (sold)

 

Selling handmade artwork feels much more personal than selling something mass-produced or consumable.  Each piece is unique, and fits a unique person buying it.  I recently sold a painting I had done many years ago, from a time when I was much more willing to experiment with color and style.  I couldn't make that painting again today if I tried!  Purchasing a handmade piece from an artist means the buyer is getting something not just unique and collectible, but also something that often has a personal connection to that artist's life.

 

Seeds, sparks, and saying goodbye: all are part of creating artwork and sending it out into the world to share with others, and each has its own part in an artwork's unique journey.