Seasonal Notes: Between Harvest and Stillness
Here we are, with just two months left of 2025, and I can barely remember this past summer.
I spent it fully immersed in my art practice, with the intention to build a sustainable part-time business. I crossed off every item on my to-do lists (something I’m admittedly very good at), met every single self-imposed deadline, and nearly sold out my first collection, something I never dreamed would happen. Yet my body and mind are filled with tension and anxiety, suspended in a constant state of anticipation. Somehow, I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at all.
This is not what I imagined it would feel like.
Over the past weeks, one thought has persisted: this is not sustainable. Everything in nature has its own rhythms, peak and rest states, and I haven’t been honoring mine. The seed for this realization was planted while reading Wintering by Katherine May, but now I feel it deep in my bones. I have to stop this tug-of-war with myself and make space for love and acceptance.
And as yesterday was Samhain, I can’t think of a better moment to reflect and renew my intentions.
What’s Falling Away
Lately, more and more artists have been writing about burnout, creative block, and the desire to step away from social media. Many of them have a large number of followers and successful careers, yet they no longer enjoy the art they’re making. They feel trapped by the need to maintain a style that became their brand, even when they’d want to explore something new.
But art is not meant to be a box. Style is meant to evolve. As we change, our art changes with us. I can only hope I’m not drawing the same way next year.
I want to shed the belief that success requires a fixed brand or signature style, a formula to follow on repeat. My creative identity is shapeshifting. It moves in seasons, with peaks and valleys, and it would be a shame to confine it to a single form.
What’s Emerging
I feel like a teenager who discovered a new concept and now it becomes their whole personality. But after years of perfectionism, endless to-do lists, and anxiety over the smallest mistakes, I’m simply tired.
What if by not achieving as much, my life actually becomes richer?
What if the answer lies in messing up, moving on, slowing down, noticing the small things, in listening to my body, all without being in a constant state of fight or flight? Without punishing myself for not doing enough?
I’ve always had these mantras guide me: consistency is key, repeat everyday what’s important to you, build habits and routines. Yet, what I failed to understand was that consistency doesn’t mean perfection. Life is unpredictable — and as I grow older, the unexpected has become the norm.
All these years, I’ve been too harsh with myself. Embracing the seasons of my life is my way of saying: You did amazing. I’m proud of you. Now go play and enjoy life as much as possible, because it all goes by too fast.
What I’m Inviting In
In my art practice, I feel an urge to experiment, to invite something more organic and abstract into my realism. I can’t yet articulate what it is, but it feels like an act of defiance against my perfectionism.
I want to create space for this playful practice and also find ways for more people to collect art meaningfully and affordably. One idea that excites me deeply is starting an art snail mail project inspired by the seasons of the Wheel of the Year.
It feels like a way to practice what I preach: slow down, honor cycles, and reconnect with the simple joy of creating. I’m curious to see where this journey leads in the year ahead, both as an artist and as a person.
An Invitation to Reflection
I invite you to pause and ask: What’s falling away? What’s emerging? And how can you bring more intention into your everyday life?
Until next time, with love,
Adina 🖤
