Studio Notes

May 26, 2026

When I’m good, I’m very good.

When I’m bad…
Mom has cleanup to do.

Studio life, as it turns out, is not without consequences.

Somewhere between large canvases, acrylic experiments, and my usual slightly chaotic creative process, I made one critical error:

I opened a jar of cadmium green paint, peeled off that weird dried acrylic skin from the top, wiped the gooey mess onto a paper towel…

…and casually tossed it in the trash.

This, in my haste to be more creative than neat.

Because apparently, while I was off doing Important Artist Things, someone else in the studio decided this was not trash… but rather opportunity.

Let’s just say Everly discovered the cadmium green treasure, and by the time I realized what had happened, there was evidence

And because acrylic dries fast—and I mean FAST—there was no time for philosophical reflection… or good photos of a pup covered in green.

So my cute little culprit’s paws were promptly dunked into my hauled brush-washing water—the very same water I’ve been schlepping back and forth during this season of working in acrylic.

Fortunately, no great harm was done.

But there was cleanup.
Dog, floor… and the bottom of my shoes.

Everly (yep, that’s the little stinker’s name) was sentenced to public accountability.

I made her pose with one paw firmly planted on the jar of paint.

I was actually surprised she stayed, but perhaps it was admitted shame… or determination to be good and please me after the debacle.

Honestly, I’m not even sure this qualifies as punishment.

If anything, she looks like she’s preparing to launch her own abstract series in unauthorized cadmium green.

She’s intelligent, so honestly… this would not surprise me.

The good news is my studio survived since it’s… well… a studio, and should probably be a little messy and free.

The slightly less good news is I’ve now added “secure cadmium green disposal” to my creative practice.

So if you ever imagine the artist’s studio as a serene place of thoughtful mark-making and quiet inspiration…

Think again.

Art, after all, is about exploration.

Some of us just explore it differently.

Warmly,
Pam

P.S. One of the best parts of being here is that newsletter readers get the first peek. I’ll be sharing exclusive behind-the-scenes moments, stories, and the debut of this new series here before it goes public—so you’ll truly be seeing it first. And if you know someone who would love an early glimpse too, I’d be honored if you’d invite them to join us along the way.

 

May 18, 2026

Well… my current studio obsession is apparently yogurt.

Not just because I love the creamy goodness (though I absolutely do), but because I’ve discovered that these little containers are surprisingly perfect for paint mixing.

Art supplies?
No.
Snack… turned studio assistant?
Absolutely.

There’s something deeply satisfying about finishing a yogurt and immediately thinking, “Excellent. This will hold chartreuse.”

This season, I’ve landed in large-scale acrylic mode for a while—big canvases, bold energy, and a temporary shift away from my usual oil and cold wax rhythm.

I’ve learned over time that changing mediums every now and then shakes something loose in me.
New materials.
New problems.
New ways of finding my way back to myself.

The funny thing is… even when the medium changes, the core doesn’t.

The same love of line.
The same pull toward layered chaos.
The same desire to wrestle a little peace out of it all.

It just shows up wearing different shoes.

Of course, acrylic has introduced one very specific inconvenience…

Water.

My studio normally runs gloriously “dry,” which works beautifully for oil and cold wax. No sink. No problem.

Until acrylic.

Suddenly, I am a woman hauling rinse water, washing brushes, and making regular 100-yard treks to the house like some sort of slightly paint-covered homesteader.

In spring and summer? Charming.

In rain, mud, or snow?
Less “dedicated artist” and more “questionable life choices.”

So for now, acrylic season appears to be my warmer-weather adventure—part creative exploration, part large-canvas freedom, part accidental fitness program.

And yes… yogurt containers are absolutely coming with me.

Thanks for following along as I make big, messy things, adapt my process, and continue proving that inspiration can come from unexpected places… including the dairy aisle.

Warmly,
Pam