What’s on your desk, easel, screen, sketchbook, or workbench today? We want to see the work that’s still becoming~ Not every piece has to be finished to be worth sharing. Sometimes the rough sketch teaches more than the final painting. Sometimes the failed attempt is the step that makes the next one possible. Whether you’re painting, sculpting, designing, writing, woodworking, sewing, photographing, or creating in any other medium, this is your space to share where you are in the process. ✨ Share a photo of your current project. ✨ Tell us what you’re working on. ✨ Celebrate a win~ or ask for feedback if you’re feeling stuck. Let’s fill the comments with works in progress and cheer each other on. Every masterpiece was once someone’s Wednesday~ 🌿

This is the vision board I created for my brand to help shape my visual identity. Whenever I feel like I'm drifting away from the direction I want to go, I come back to it as a reminder of the atmosphere, aesthetic, and experience I want to create through my work. A good vision board can help establish a color palette, mood, lighting, textures, materials, composition, architecture, clothing, or even the emotions you want a piece to evoke. It allows you to see how different ideas relate to one another and often reveals connections you may not have noticed otherwise. I also find that vision boards help keep projects focused. Whenever I feel stuck or uncertain, I can revisit them to remind myself of the direction I originally wanted to pursue. They become a visual roadmap that encourages experimentation while keeping the overall vision cohesive. Do you use vision boards as part of your creative process? If so, what do you include in yours?

Lets talk about something some people might find uncomfortable. Every artist we've ever talked to has asked some version of the same question: what do I actually charge for this? It's one of the hardest conversations in this field, and one of the most avoided. Most of us were never taught how to price our own work. We were taught technique, composition, color theory, how to stretch a canvas or fire a kiln, and then left to guess at the number that goes on the tag. So we guess low, because charging what a piece is actually worth can feel like an argument we don't want to have. Or we guess by copying whatever a similar-looking piece sold for somewhere else, without knowing what actually went into making it. We want to offer something better than a guess. Not a formula you can plug numbers into and get a "correct" price out the other end. Pricing isn't math like that, and anyone who tells you it is hasn't made very much art. What we can offer is a framework: the real variables that belong in the conversation, so the number you land on is one you can actually stand behind. What a Price Is Actually Made Of Size is usually the first thing people look at, and it's the least reliable variable in the room. A small piece can take longer than a large one. A large piece can be simpler than it looks. If size were the whole story, pricing would be easy, and it isn't, so it clearly isn't the whole story. Here's what actually belongs in the number: Time. Not just the hours spent with a brush or a tool in hand, but the thinking time before that, and the fixing time after. A piece that took three sittings to plan and one to execute took four sittings, not one. Skill. Years of practice are part of what someone is paying for, even when they can't see the years directly. A confident line took confidence to make, and confidence isn't free just because it looks effortless. Materials, including the ones that didn't survive. Every artist has ruined something learning a technique or working with an unfamiliar material. That cost is real, even on pieces that came out fine, because it's part of what it took to be able to make this piece at all.