A photo of a finished pot is nice. But a reel showing the moment it collapsed on the wheel, your frustrated laugh, and then the successful version three attempts later? That's the stuff that makes people stop scrolling and think, I could do that! That's what captures what a static image never could.

Life is full. I get it. Between work deadlines, family obligations, and just keeping up with daily life, adding "more stuff" to your plate seems impossible. But here's what I know from my background in brain science and years of making and teaching art: creative time isn't another task to check off your list. It's actually the thing that makes everything else more manageable.

But then I remembered something my Dad, a psychologist, once told me about radical acceptance – this idea that real growth happens when we stop fighting our current reality and start working with it instead. So I sat down, opened that bag of porcelain, and committed to really learning what this temperamental, delicate clay could teach me.

Are you a starter or a finisher? Do you love the possibility of new projects, but don’t ever get to the end? Do you find yourself energized by checking things off your list, but are afraid to take risks to start something new? Maybe you're like me and find different phases easier depending on the type of project or where you are in life.

As young newlyweds, we were painting our new house. It was about 2 PM, there was a big football game on that day, and we had it playing in the background while we worked away together, just chatting. For like 15 minutes we kept saying things like, "What should we eat later? I'm pretty hungry. Yeah, me too. Maybe we could order subs. Maybe pizza. What time do you think?"

How many times have you heard it? “Find your niche!” “What’s your one thing?” “You need to specialize to succeed.” The creative world seems obsessed with this ultimatum: become an expert at one specific craft, or risk being a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. And as a visual artist, the conversation moves to having a specific style and voice. So how exactly do we pick this “one thing” and go for it?

“The Gap” is not just a store in the mall, but refers to the distance between where you are and where you want to be. As humans, we just naturally focus on what’s missing, lacking, or not yet achieved. We disguise this as being “ambitious,” or “goal-oriented,” but this perspective has a dark side.

“Chlorophyll? More like BOROphyll!”

Today I want to convince you that understanding the science behind your art isn’t just helpful—it’s your creative superpower. And by the end, I’ll give you three ways to start building your own scientific toolkit that will make your artistic life infinitely easier.

Just remember that there are many little decisions you make throughout the creative process. Make them on purpose rather than by chance. And your message will become clearer and more YOU over time.

Understanding your own creative process through this lens can transform your practice. Instead of forcing yourself through frustration or wondering why some sessions feel magical while others feel like pulling teeth, you can start to design conditions that support your natural rhythm.

The right tool doesn't change your message—it amplifies it. It works with your natural tendencies rather than against them. When there's alignment between your vision, your physical movements, and your tools, the technical process feels less like a struggle and more like a dance. I love the example of the Torpedo bat to inspire creating the tool for the job!

Here's a truth I've come to embrace: You can't make meaningful art about life if you're not actually living it.

As artists, we sometimes fall into the trap of thinking we need to be in our studios constantly, producing, producing, producing. But that approach leads to creative depletion. You're drawing water from a well that's running dry.

Unnecessary struggle leads to burnout. It creates friction where flow could exist. It drains energy that could be channeled into creativity and joy. And honestly, it's exhausting. We all have natural ways we move through the world, patterns that may have served us at one point. Maybe tackling challenges head-on helped you prove something to yourself or others. Maybe the struggle itself became a badge of honor.

But what if there's another way?

"What exactly am I selling? How do I price it? What about taxes and business licenses? Can I actually make a living from this?" These questions often deter artists from transforming their creative work into a sustainable business. I know they initially stopped me.

When it's something you truly care about, something that feels core to your identity, it becomes easier to persist through the discomfort, through being a beginner, through making mistakes. Because you know it's who you are, and the only path forward is through the awkward growth stages.

Have you ever been so absorbed in a task that you completely lost track of time? There's something magical about that state of flow, but it can come with unexpected consequences when we let other responsibilities slide.

I had just left the community ceramics studio, where I had been talking to two clay friends about trying different ceramic techniques to find the ones that fit you. Not just as an artist, but as a whole person.

How they work with your lifestyle, personality, and artistic voice. For example, if you love the look of intricate carving, but prefer to work in quick, intuitive movements, you'll just be fighting an uphill battle trying to perfect that skill. Instead maybe you could ditch carving altogether and go for wild glaze combinations that make you happy.

What do you say when someone asks what you do? You get the feeling they want a succinct answer before moving on.

But if you say "I'm an artist!", you're still not done. Now you'll need to answer, "That's interesting! What kind of work do you make?" 

If you're anything like me, you'll find yourself rambling.

In this moment, she wasn’t editing herself, criticizing herself, or worrying about other people’s opinions. She used what was already natural for her, what she already knew how to do, and she just Let. It. Go.

Do you ever marvel at the incredibly detailed work of a favorite artist, or wonder what sorcery led them to be able to decorate like a pro, or build that elaborate dining room table set? Sure, it would be cool to be able to do that. But who has the time?! A girl has to eat and sleep every once in a while, you know?

You know in the movie Moana, how Moana is called to the ocean but doesn’t quite know why or how to answer that call? But then her grandmother reveals the history of her people and how they were voyagers. And it suddenly makes sense, and it grounds her in a way that helps her to decide how to move forward.