Grace Under Fire

Some landscapes whisper. This one yells.

What started as a peaceful mountain scene somehow evolved into “what if the earth was feeling a little dramatic today?” The warm, fiery hues of the peaks clash beautifully (or aggressively, depending on how you see it) against the misty coolness of the lower mountains—kind of like when you’re trying to stay calm, but your emotions have other plans.

There’s a tension here, a push and pull between stillness and intensity, like a volcano that might erupt, but also might just be showing off. The soft mist below tries to balance things out, acting as the responsible adult in the scene, muting the chaos above—but let’s be honest, the mountains have already stolen the show.

The mood? A mix of awe and low-key danger. The influence? Probably my subconscious telling me I should process my emotions instead of painting them into geological events.

Either way, enjoy the view—but maybe keep a safe distance. You never know when things might get a little heated.

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Art is a lot like a cat—it shows up when it wants to, ignores me when I need it most, and occasionally knocks over my confidence just for fun. Some days, inspiration hits like a lightning bolt, and I’m lost in a blur of watercolors, acrylics, graphite, and pastels, creating pieces that actually resemble what I intended. Other days, a simple straight line feels like a mathematical impossibility, and I stare at my blank canvas like it personally offended me.

I am a self-taught artist, always learning, always exploring… Also being neurodivergent—with ADHD and borderline autism—means my brain is constantly hopping between hyperfocus and forgetting what I was doing mid-brushstroke as my “brilliant” idea slowly morphs into something… abstract (which is just a fancy way of saying this did not go to plan but it all worked out in the end 🫶🏻).

However when creativity decides to ghost me (which it does frequently), I turn to my other work as a mental health nurse and social worker. Helping others makes up for the fact that I sometimes abandon my own sketchbook for weeks. And when life throws me curveballs (which it does, with alarming accuracy), I remind myself that art is patient. It waits, no judgment, until I’m ready to pick up the brush again.

And if you’re wondering what fuels this artistic chaos—it’s hot water. Just plain, boiling hot water. No tea, no lemon, no explanation. It baffles baristas, confuses waiters, and mildly concerns my friends. But hey, every artist needs their thing, right? Mine just happens to be drinking what is essentially a very polite cup of nothing.

So whether my latest piece is a revelation or a complete mystery, I hope you enjoy it. If nothing else, know that somewhere along the way, I had a many distractions, lots of hot water and at least one accidental smudge that turned into a creative decision.