Why Art

“Through what you face, you find your deepest courage — and you get to keep that with you for all the rest of your days.”

— Brianna West

For those of you who have attended my art workshops, you’ve probably heard me talk about the growing body of research showing that creating art supports mental health and emotional well-being. You may also have heard me share pieces of my own story — how I found art during COVID, and how unexpectedly powerful it became in helping me heal.

What I haven’t shared fully is why.

I am a survivor of domestic violence. Ten years ago, I went through an extraordinarily painful divorce. I won’t share all of the details, but what I experienced was abuse — although I didn’t understand that at the time. I didn’t know what abuse looked like, or that it could happen to someone like me. I think many people believe terrible things only happen to other people. Until suddenly, they don’t.

Lately, I have been struggling emotionally with many of the things happening in our country. I usually keep politics off this site because I want everyone to feel welcome in the art community I’m trying to build. But hearing stories of people experiencing injustice — immigrants being treated inhumanely, women harmed by powerful men, people whose pain is minimized or dismissed — has stirred something deep in me.

I hesitate to use the word triggered. It has become overused and misunderstood. But the truth is that these stories reconnect me to feelings I once knew very well: powerlessness, disbelief, and the pain of not being believed.

Over the years, I’ve met many others who have lived through trauma. There is often a shared sensitivity — an awareness of injustice and a deep empathy for suffering. When you have experienced powerlessness yourself, it becomes difficult to look away when you see it happening to others. And when accountability feels out of reach, the helplessness can turn into rage.

That rage can be paralyzing.

I find myself moving through ordinary life — working, feeding the dog, watching the deer in the backyard, watching the Olympics — while carrying emotions that feel too large to put anywhere. The world keeps moving, even when something inside you feels stuck.

This is where art enters.

Creating is a fundamental human act. It gives emotion somewhere to go when words fail. Art doesn’t solve injustice, and it doesn’t erase pain. But it allows us to transform what we’re carrying into something external — color, movement, texture, form. It allows us to move energy instead of holding it inside.

Art gave me a way forward when I felt powerless. It still does.

I will keep making art. I will keep showing up, creating, teaching, and building small spaces where people can pause, breathe, and reconnect with themselves and each other. I may not be able to change the world in large ways, but I can contribute within the small sphere of influence I have.

If this post brings up discomfort or anger, I invite you to sit with that feeling and ask why. Stories of pain can be difficult to hear. But listening to one another is part of how we build empathy and understanding.

And if you are carrying rage or grief of your own right now, I hope you continue to find joy in small things. Make art. Bake bread. Walk in nature. Hug your children and your dogs. Notice beauty where you can. Spread kindness where you are able.

Small acts of creation and care matter. Sometimes, they are the only way forward.