It seems hard to believe that just a week ago, I was waking up to the sound of the sea, and the seagulls and shorebirds who call it home.
I was in a private room above the Staithes Gallery in England, with a window overlooking the coral-colored rooftops of the quaint seaside village.
Every morning, I’d let myself wake up slowly, then saunter out for tea, crumpets, and strawberry jam before a full day of painting.
I was there under the tutelage of my mentor, Lori Putnam, at a workshop organized by Workshops in Yorkshire and Rosemary & Co.
Each day, we’d find a spot to set up our easels, run through a demo or instruction, and set about painting. One afternoon, we were treated to a boat ride from a fisherman so we could see Staithes from the water. That same fisherman showed up to dinner that night with a few lobsters.
From behind my easel, to the fisherman’s boat, to each and every “goodbye, love” we were sent off with, every day was brimming with an almost fairy tale-like magic.
I was filled with exhilaration; with serenity; with awe. To be in a new place. To be surrounded by absolute beauty and incredibly kind people. To be spending my days putting brush to canvas.
But more than anything, I was overcome by the realization that for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself.
I could hear myself think. I could let myself feel. I could just be.
Away from the day-to-day responsibilities of life, I had room to remember who I am when I’m not a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, or a business owner. (All roles I cherish.)
For one week, I could dive deeper into my work, let my brain become the sponge it yearns to be for learning, and experience the solidarity of 10 other artists doing the same.
It only takes a few minutes of being away from it all to realize:
We live in a noisy world.
A world full of inputs — more than our brains and bodies were ever meant to take in, process, or handle.
A society where productivity is celebrated more than passion.
A time when it feels like taking care of ourselves needs to fit into the margins.
I returned from my trip relaxed, with a renewed sense of resilience, confidence, and energy — and an incredible lot of paintings.
More than anything, though, I returned with a reminder of what it is to be me.
“Go to Staithes. There is no place like it in all the world for painting.”
These were the words spoken by a drawing instructor to a young Laura Knight (née Johnson) at the turn of the 20th century, an artist who would go on to become one of the most successful and prolific painters in England.
She likely couldn’t predict that decades later, a group of 10 artists, including myself, would follow that same advice and retrace her footsteps through the stunning seaside village — and come out rediscovering themselves.