Find Your Own Magic free phone wallpaper
Download this free colorful wallpaper, designed to brighten your day and encourage your unique magic.
I hope he remembers (Patreon sample)
I have no idea how much he’ll use this journal or if it will be a passing fancy, forgotten along with a stream of other treasures he no longer cares about. But I hope he remembers this part—our hands together, creating beauty out of thin air. I hope he learns that this journal can be one of his safe spaces, a place to pour his hopes and dreams and worries. Somewhere he can find himself in quiet moments of creative exploration.
Art journal page: from disaster to delight
I believe that all art-making (especially art journaling) is a journey. A long, winding path, leading us deeper into our own truth. There is no wrong way to go. If you feel lost, you just haven’t gone far enough yet.
Win a seat: Gratitude Junk Journal 2022
Win a seat in Tiare Smith’s beloved Gratitude Junk Journal online art class!
You are loved (as is)
Maybe that's what growing feels like. Maybe phoenix cycles of death and rebirth are less glamorous and more blood, sweat, and tears . . .
Your Wild Yes: Amanda Fall
“Words beat against my teeth. I cannot speak. Ache rises from my gut and forms a lump in my throat; I am wordless with need. I feel small, weak, not enough to face the rising tide . . .”
37 Things: Part 1
This is just a start. Maybe that’s the whole point. Another day, even a month from now—my list might look totally different. We keep saving ourselves, over and over. Choice by choice. Moment by moment.
GIVEAWAY: Gratitude Junk Journal 2021
I’m teaching in Tiare Smith’s Gratitude Junk Journal 2021! Enter to win a seat.
Soul Medicine: why I art journal
I scrawl tender truths in my waiting art journal. Heart pounds in throat, thick with yearning. I smear luscious color in oil pastel, jagged strokes speaking emotions with no name.
Come back to life
I’m cracked open with love and ache every day, sometimes every moment. I’m made raw with weariness. I’m working to show up imperfectly, bringing my broken/whole, weeping/raging, joyful/grieving self to each moment as best as I can.