What Makes a House a Home

There are many things I love about being an illustrator that I wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world. Now, I’m not trying to boast, but I am truly grateful that I get to use my creativity on a daily basis, read about fascinating new topics, and bring stories to life with my artwork.  For a hermit like me who enjoys her solitude, it’s a great setup. But what I love most of all is that I have the opportunity to work from the comfort of my home.

Home is a feeling.

A few weeks ago, my daughter and I moved into our new apartment, and we’re finally feeling settled in enough to enjoy our new space. While most of the unpacking is complete and all the utilities are working as they should, transforming it into a quiet refuge from the outside world will take some time and patience. But it’s not a problem; I love transforming spaces into nurturing havens of comfort, warmth, and coziness. It’s my jam.

You see, most of my childhood I lived in houses that lacked the support, care, and love one needs to thrive, and I know too well the damage it can do to one’s well-being.  Such spaces drain your energy, ruin your health, and rob your vitality.  You eventually become a shell—like the house you occupy—of yourself, a person living with their eyes and heart closed in a home where there is no warmth.

Our homes are extensions of ourselves.

To thrive and be our most authentic selves, our home must be a sacred space, not just a residence where we keep our things and sleep.  It should be our refuge, where we go to restore our spirits and reprieve from the harshness of the outside world. It’s where we have can let our hair down and remove the invisible armor we wear in public spaces.  It’s where we should feel safe, nurtured, and comforted so we can learn, grow, and realize our full potential. And since most of us spend the majority of our time in our homes, making sure that it’s a comforting space that we can escape to should be paramount.

To live in a loving and peaceful world,

then it must begin in the home.

Our homes can be sacred spaces that fill our cups, or they can be large containers that we only use to store our things. Only when we’ve poured our love, attention, and care into our dwellings—including the people within—does it truly become a home.  And if we can succeed in making a loving and safe space for ourselves and our loved ones, then it’s possible that we can have the courage to extend our hearts out to others, too.

So, I must ask, is your home a sacred space?

Remember to Play

Although I’ve been making art for other people most of my life, it may surprise you to know that I never make art for myself.  For too long I’ve held the beliefs that making art for oneself and shamelessly displaying it in one’s home was pretentious, self-indulgent, and a waste of time; in other words, I shouldn’t use my own skills for my own enjoyment.  So when I decided to pick up my paintbrush and paint again just for fun, little did I know that I would dismantle my old thought patterns and begin to heal wounds I didn’t know I had.

For the last couple of weeks I painted with my short easel whenever I had spare time—a rare and valuable thing, nowadays—to make something that will brighten the front entryway of my home.  Having not painted on a canvas for so many years, I forgot how freeing and therapeutic it can be.  By letting my busy and overactive mind take a backseat in my creative process, I allowed my paintbrush and intuition to be my guides, and I fully immersed myself in the flow of painting once again.  There was no pressure to finish my art at a certain time, no one to submit sketches to, no professor providing un-constructive criticisms, no anxiety about posting to social media, and no nagging inner-critic to appease.  It was just me and the stillness I sometimes feel whenever I create something new.

And that stillness, that sage and wise teacher, had so much wisdom to share with me.

The stillness gently reminded me of the importance of play.  Although this insight isn’t new to me, it is a lesson that I have not yet mastered as an artist. You would think that I would make it a central feature to my art practice but with the demands of running my own business, the responsibilities of adulting, and the pressure to meet deadlines, I just never devoted time to it.

Yet as Albert Einstein once eloquently stated, ‘play is the highest form of research.’

 It’s during play—the time spent creating art freely, uninhibitedly, and joyfully—that I feel the most fulfilled.  My imagination runs wild and my need for perfection is (nearly) obsolete.  I just flow with whatever my mind and heart want to create in the present moment.  And by doing so, I’m reminded that having fun and making time for play are not only needed for sustaining a healthy relationship with my art, but it’s also a great way of tending to and caring for my personal well-being.

After years of being a working artist, I no longer think of making art for myself as a frivolous endeavor that I should avoid.  On the contrary, I now think of it as a sacred time to connect with myself. And although I may not always post the art I make for fun, when I do I hope they bring you as much joy to see as they were for me to create.