Inside My Studio: The Messy, Beautiful Chaos Where My Paintings Begin

If you walked into my “studio,” you might laugh — because it’s not a sun-drenched loft or some Pinterest-perfect art space. It’s a small, cluttered corner of my basement. A sanctuary of color tucked between storage bins and laundry baskets. And honestly? I love it.

This little space saved me.

It’s where I go to breathe when life feels loud — where I trade overstimulation and responsibilities for stillness and paint. Sometimes it’s chaotic and full of half-finished canvases stacked against the wall. Other days, the light hits just right, and it feels like magic. Either way, it’s mine. It holds my process, my peace, my mess.

I don’t always have a plan when I start painting. In fact, most of my favorite pieces come from moments when I let go of control and just let the colors move. I’ll put on music (usually something instrumental or moody), light a candle if I remember, and just… begin.

The energy in this space is emotional. I’ve cried here. I’ve danced here. I’ve released years of grief, fear, and exhaustion through brushstrokes and palette knife swipes. This is where my abstract paintings are born — in silence, in softness, in survival.

Each of my original oil paintings starts as a feeling. Sometimes I sit down because I’m sad or anxious. Other times I feel inspired and just want to see what happens. There’s no formula. It’s a relationship — between me, the canvas, and whatever’s stirring inside me.

I think that’s what I love most about abstract painting — it doesn’t ask me to make sense. It just asks me to be honest.

I’ve learned to embrace the imperfections in both my space and my process. The paint stains on the floor, the brushes that never get fully cleaned, the canvases I cover and recover until they finally speak. All of it is part of the story.

So no, my studio isn’t picture-perfect. But it’s real. It’s where I heal. It’s where I remember who I am.

And maybe — just maybe — you don’t need a fancy setup to make something meaningful. Maybe you just need a corner of your world where you’re allowed to feel everything.

Thanks for stepping into mine.