Spring Newsletter 2025

Life and death and art.

Hi friends,

I haven’t been writing much lately, nor have I been creating or posting nearly as much as I used to. Both politically and personally, change has been the theme of the year, and frankly, I’ve felt disoriented.

In March, my grandparents passed away within weeks of each other. My husband and I saw them in 2022, just after we married and they had both been diagnosed with cancer. I traveled to my grandmother’s memorial last month and, as it turned out, to see my grandfather one last time. He was able to see my growing belly and know he was going to be a great grandfather.

These bittersweet moments, among other changes big and small, leave me thinking about how my art necessarily reflects my current reality. If things feel chaotic, my art turns chaotic. If I’m feeling bold and confident, so does my art. If things feels weird, my art is weird.

I’ve tried controlling what I make and, well, if I’m not expressing how I feel on the page and following my intuition, the art doesn’t flow.

So I’ve leaned in to techniques that I first explored during my art journaling days: image transfers, magazine collage, words, stamps, whatever feels right in the moment. Sometimes it’s ugly, but that’s ok.

When I can get out of my own way, and get out of my own head, the muse is waiting. I just have to show up before I can talk myself out of it or convince myself it has to be perfect before I even begin.

All this to say: the only things we have are the here and now and what we choose to give our time and attention to. Make art, whatever it looks like. Love your people out loud. Take deep breaths. Appreciate the good things. Keep showing up. And if you like, let me know how you’re doing in the comments.

The next newsletter will (fingers crossed!) go out the first day of summer but til then, you can find me at my blog or on Instagram.

Take care,
Ingrid