From Flowers to… Wait, What Else Can I Paint? 🎨
A confession from a Minnesota artist who thought she had it all figured out.
I'll be honest with you. When I started painting, I told myself: "I'm a flower painter. That's my thing. Flowers. Done."
Narrator: It was not done.
Somewhere between the hollyhocks and the hydrangeas, something sneaky happened. A cottage showed up — blue-roofed, overflowing with color, with a winding path and chickens?? — yes, actual little spotted chickens wandering through the garden like they owned the place.
Somewhere in France, probably. Or Minnesota. Honestly, same energy.
Then the butterflies arrived. Eight of them. Bold, graphic, unapologetically colorful — each one a 5×5 original with its own personality and palette. I painted them during a season of getting through some hard things, and they became the Getting Through the Ugly collection. (More on that name another day. It's a whole story.)
Eight 5×5 originals. Eight tiny declarations that beauty is worth chasing, even when things are hard.
And then came Little Miss Sunshine — a Yellow Warbler, round and radiant, perched in cherry blossoms like she has absolutely nowhere to be and zero concerns about it. She glows. She's unbothered. She's basically my spirit animal.
"Little Miss Sunshine" — Yellow Warbler in cherry blossoms, in an ornate vintage gold frame because she absolutely demanded it.
So here's what I've learned: I don't paint things. I paint joy. Sometimes joy looks like flowers. Sometimes it's a cottage with a blue roof and wandering chickens. Sometimes it's a butterfly that fought its way out of something hard and came out spectacular. And sometimes it's a tiny yellow bird who reminds you to just… sit in the blossoms for a while.
I'm just following the brush. Apparently it knows things I don't.
Browse the current collection — including the Getting Through the Ugly butterfly series — in the shop. Each piece is one of a kind, because honestly, that's the only way I know how to make them.