One of the things people don't often see is how much of an artist's life is spent in studies. Not the finished paintings hanging on a wall~ or polished images that make it to social media. And definitely not the pieces that find homes with collectors usually~ Studies. Tonight's table is covered in blossoms, branches, leaves, grasses, and little experiments. Some worked. Some didn't. A few taught me exactly what I needed to learn. Others taught me what not to do next time. That's the nature of practice. I think we sometimes forget that mastery isn't built through grand moments of inspiration. It's built through repetition. Through painting the same flower twenty times. Through learning how a brush holds water. Through understanding why one line feels alive and another feels stiff. Through hundreds of small decisions that nobody else will ever notice. Basically~ Practice~ I've spent years creating finished work, but lately I've found myself appreciating these quieter~ lighter~ calmer~ moments more. There is something deeply satisfying about sitting down with a brush and simply studying. No deadline. No expectation. Just curiosity. What happens if this branch bends a little further? What if that blossom opens a little more? What if I try it again? The funny thing is that these small exercises rarely stay small. Every finished painting, every series, every collection begins somewhere on a cluttered table like this. A few brushstrokes. A discarded sketch. A study that unexpectedly becomes something more. (And end up on a cluttered table of paintings too 🤭, but don't worry~ they all will be used for something else...) But tonight isn't about finishing anything. It's about learning. And I think there is a certain peace in that. Sometimes progress looks less like crossing a finish line~ and more like a table covered in possibilities, chances, moments, and potential~