There is a moment in every painting that only I get to see.
The house is still, the haze floating over the lake outside is just beginning to lift, and I’m starring at a clean sheet of watercolor paper with a brush full of color. The first brushstroke.
It is a quiet moment no fanfare, no music, just the soft sound of water meeting paper. But that single stroke carries a kind of promise. It sets the rhythm for everything that follows, like the opening note of a favorite song.
Some mornings that first mark comes easily. I know exactly which blue will echo the lake at dawn. Other days I hesitate a little longer, waiting. I’ve learned not to worry. A beautiful image takes shape by beginning, even if it surprises me with a shade or shape I didn’t expect.
That’s the thing about beginnings, they rarely arrive fully planned. Whether it’s starting a new collection, writing a note to a friend, or stepping into a new season of life, I’ve discovered that you often find clarity only after you begin. The courage is in that very first move.
As these early brushstrokes dry, I look around my studio and feel a deep gratitude. Every card and print that leaves here carries the spirit of that moment: the calm of the lake, the quiet of early light, and the belief that small starts can lead to beautiful stories.
If you’re standing at the edge of something new, a project, a dream, a relationship, maybe today is the day to take your own first brushstroke.
It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to begin.
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