The Year I Stop Waiting to Feel Ready
I did something a little scary last week.
I signed up for Emily Jeffords' Making Art Work course.
It's been on my vision board for a year (literally, taped up there, staring at me), but the timing never felt right. A pricing calculator to finish. A full-time job to show up for. The very reliable and practical voice in my head that is excellent at talking me out of things.
But Emily offered a new entry point this round, and she's hinting this may be her last year teaching it.
Something in me just... went for it.
Here's the part I'm a little nervous to admit: I almost didn't tell you.
Because who am I to be investing in a course? I teach pricing strategy. I built a system from scratch. I run both a Shopify store and an Etsy shop. Surely I should arrive at some point where I just know things. There's a small, loud part of me that worries it reads as "I don’t know what I’m doing”.
But my word of the year is momentum, and momentum doesn't wait until you feel ready.
I'm hoping Emily teaches me how to photograph and share my work the way it actually deserves to be seen. More playful, more fun. Maybe, just maybe, this is the year I stop treating "full-time artist" like a someday sentence.
Life otherwise feels settled and sweet. We're back from Paris, already plotting the next small adventure, and friends have been texting that they're loving the recaps (which made my whole week). If you've been following along on the blog, you know it was a trip. If you haven't:
Day 3: Monet, the coolest book I purchased, and the best ramen I've ever had
Day 4: Champagne and the Series of Unfortunate Train Events
Day 5: The almost-disaster-day turned best-day-ever
Coming soon: everything I bought in Paris and a revised 5-day itinerary based on what we actually did.
Inside My Studio
I picked up some Monet books from the library, and I am unreasonably excited about this.
The plan is to study master copies, which (if you haven't heard of this practice) is essentially copying a painting from a master artist as closely as possible. Not to replicate it for sale. To understand it. To figure out exactly what choices he made and why, color by color, brushstroke by brushstroke.
It's the difference between admiring a painting and actually climbing inside it to see how the light works.
And Monet's light. I mean...that glow isn't an accident, and I want to know every single decision that made it happen.
The Paris trip fed this in a way I didn't expect. Standing in front of his actual work, watching how color behaves at that scale... it's a different education than any book can give you. Now I want to take that feeling back to my studio and see what it does.
In other studio news: I'm listing the safari jungle animals in a bright pink colorway for the saturated-color lovers among you. Currently only a soft pink is in the shop, but some of you want punch, and I respect that deeply. Shop it here now, and it'll officially debut on the website this week.
I'm also preparing a second sale (test prints and extras, seriously discounted). Email subscribers get first -and maybe only- access, obviously. Dates coming soon.
What I'm Cooking
One giant pork roast turned into two weeknight meals, and I feel like somebody owes me a trophy.
Sunday: bone-in pork roast in the slow cooker, coated in salt and cumin, with a sliced onion, garlic, and two cups of OJ. That’s it, that’s the recipe.
OJ: The fresh-squeezed kind that Bonnie insisted on at the grocery store. She has opinions about juice.
Low and slow for 10 hours. It shredded without even trying.
Save a cup of the liquid. Once it cools, skim the fat off the top and you're left with this gelatinous, deeply savory pork stock that keeps everything moist when you reheat. It sounds and looks alarming. It is completely essential.
Meal one: shred the pork, coat it in the saved drippings, hit it under the broiler for two minutes. Carnitas tacos. Done.
Meal two (a few nights later): warm the pork in the toaster oven, pile it onto good bread with mayo, pickles, grainy mustard, and swiss cheese. Toast in a cast iron on the stove, then hold on a sheet pan in a 180-degree oven while Bonnie and I played outside. Nathan raved. Steamed green beans on the side. Simple food, made with a little intention, wins every time.
What's Inspiring Me
Hotel Lobby Candle just released a new scent, and if their track record means anything, it's going to be dangerously good. Their Hamptons scent and Good & Well Supply Co's Grand Canyon are my two all-time favorites... the kind of candles that make a room feel like it was designed. I have a feeling Racquet Club earns a spot on that shortlist.
On a completely different note: my sister-in-law raised the question of whether you should bring flowers to a host in a vase, or just bring the flowers.
My take (and I have strong feelings about this): if you know the host well enough to know they own a vase, and the event gives them a moment to trim and arrange... bring the flowers. No vase. If you're not sure, or the event doesn't allow for flower-arranging? Skip the flowers entirely. Bring a candle. Same price point. No cluttered entry table. The host actually gets to use the gift.
Keep a few good candles in stock for exactly this. They make the decision very easy.
What I'm Reading
Started Poison Daughter... good, not quite great yet, but holding my interest enough to keep turning pages.
The bigger news: the second book in the Shield of Sparrows series, Rites of the Starling, came out TODAY. Shield of Sparrows was one of my favorite reads of 2025, which means it's taking serious willpower not to abandon Poison Daughter entirely. I may also go pick up a physical copy. It's earned a spot on the actual shelf.
Beneath (the prequel to Conform): I liked Conform enough, but I'm content to wait for my library hold on this one. No rush.
Coming Up...
So that's where I am. Monet books stacked on the table. A leap of faith quietly underway. The weather so beautiful I keep having to remind myself to go inside.
My word of the year is momentum, and this week, for the first time in a while, it genuinely feels like I'm living it.
If there's something you've been putting off... a course, a creative experiment, a library book you keep meaning to grab... consider this the nudge. The weather is too good to keep waiting.
Talk soon, Katie
