Just last year, when I was presented with the opportunity to apply for the Art Instructor position at Pinot's Palette, the paint and sip studio I attend, I hesitated. Even after two full years of rest, the thought of being on stage again, even a little bit, made me feel tired. It worried me that I wasn’t ready to get back in the saddle of being seen just yet, enough that I hesitated to apply for another six months.

The other reason for hesitating was the more reasonable consideration that I wasn’t experienced enough as an artist, teacher, or even bartender.

Then something must have happened, because the next time I saw that they were still in need of instructors, the hesitation was gone, and I immediately applied.

Granted, I now had dozens of commissions under my belt. This experience helped me feel more secure as an artist. I now felt like I had several good examples of my work that I was proud of. But I must have also gotten to a point where my burnout had turned a corner. Through my “rest years,” I have continued doing very specific performances, like the yearly Patsy Cline tribute show I have been a part of for over a decade. Even doing these very few performances, I felt like I needed another year off afterwards.

I was hired as Art Instructor earlier this month. It seems the more I learn about this job, the more excited I get. The Art Instructor stage now seems more manageable, like a welcome change of venue and type of performance. Such a big difference in just six months.

I could never have gotten to this place without my complete withdrawal from the world. My health and heart needed time. Time to heal from being constantly exposed. Time for me to learn to navigate my new mental and physical situation. Time to reflect on my journey so far, and before I could plot a new course, I most of all needed time to not have to be or do anything.

If you have read earlier posts, you will know how big a role these paint and sip experiences played in my getting back into visual art. It’s almost poetic that I might be able to pay that experience forward as an instructor myself. It doesn’t have to be as deep and meaningful as that. Simply being a catalyst for anyone having a fun experience creating art is enough for me.
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I teach my first class on Wednesday, March 25th. I even created a new space on this website to post the classes I am teaching - just in case anyone feels like joining. It’s for everyone. As they say at my studio: “We make fun art, not fine art.”

I did a lot of sip and paint events, and at home, I did a few studies of the masters (which in my world entails trying to copy or appropriate paintings by known and famous artists). I made my way through a handful of landscape paintings, both plein air and in-studio, and was never fully satisfied with my own style of landscape painting. I wanted wilder brushstrokes and captivating color palettes. I sought to capture “the moment”; nature at its most spectacular. For the time being, I have fallen short of my own expectations of what I aspired to portray.

Something shifted in April. I did my second paint and sip event for pet portrait painting. And after this, commissions for pet portraits started rolling in, boosted by my husband’s ever-vigilant social media promotion on my behalf. For practice, I also did a few as gifts for friends. By my count, I created 22 pet portraits this year.

I didn’t set out this year to become a full-fledged professional painter. At most, I thought I might apply to teach at one of the paint and sip venues. But at first, even that level of professionalism sounded a bit daunting. Besides, even though I am sometimes attracted to the idea of teaching, and at times even excel at it, it is not something I particularly enjoy. It would have been a job, in the sense that it would be a fun and entertaining day job, but not a path to fulfil my creative potential. At the time, I actually needed to create more cashflow so I certainly entertained the possibility.

Once the pet portraits started gaining traction, I had a clear path before me. Within the pet portraits, I was able to experiment with wilder brush strokes and finer details. Some more challenging than others, they all were a playground to explore, unravel, and unearth my own unique style. How much (or how little) detail did I need to give each subject in order to capture their personality? It became a dance over the canvas, with squinting eyes and loose wrists. Some needed much more attention to detail, some came through in the first layer, making me hesitant to proceed from there.

I suppose it makes sense. I’m not painting the photograph of the creature. I’m attempting to capture the essence of the little piece of personality that brought so much love to someone’s life that they wanted to invest in a painting of them. Each personality is different. Some are wild, silly, whimsical companions; some are gentle, warm bundles of snuggles. Of course, they will each call for different brush strokes and different treatments. They are, in fact, different!

Most of 2025, I thought the source of finding my “style” lay within me. It turns out, it has much less to do with me and so much more to do with “tapping in” to the little soul that’s coming through to help me paint this portrait. What colors and what kind of expression come through? What style? What kind of brush strokes?

This is where things get spiritual. Not every pet I am painting has passed away, so not every painting is a seance. However, I have found that every pet wants me to tap in, find them, and let them help me paint. It is sometimes easier with pets I know or knew, but I believe if I keep this process in mind, it doesn’t matter if I knew them or know them; they will teach me everything I need to know about them in order to capture them on the canvas.

​After that, it’s just a matter of getting out of the way. Which isn’t always easy. But realizing that it’s not about me, I don’t stop to think whether a brush stroke is wild enough or if I captured enough detail. I’m not in charge anymore. The beautiful little soul that brought (or is bringing) so much joy to the world - they are truly in charge of this painting.

Below a few of my works from 2025.

Even demo recordings for the purpose of pitching to more established artists are being produced entirely by means of AI. This takes away much of the income of studios and session musicians alike. 

We can all have our thoughts and opinions about that, but I have always been of the mind that it is a foolish pursuit to fight the advance of technology. Imagine if we all stuck with the horse and buggy, simply because we felt sorry for the stable hands and equestrians who had to find other means of income. It’s ridiculous to think we can fight something that undeniably will make our lives easier. 

It occurs to me that the visual artists might have had similar conversations with the invention of the photograph. “What is the point of painting a portrait now, if not for capturing the likeness of a person, which a photograph does with much more precision?” 

The most interesting conversation about AI goes deeper than that. What we discuss is the idea of inception. I would argue that self-awareness and truly unique thoughts and ideas are still the province of humans alone. We argued that unless AI becomes inceptive, it can only create based on what already exists. Creating something truly new is still the exclusive capacity of humans.

Even if AI ever became self-aware, it would never understand human emotion. And what is art and music if not expressions of emotion and a vehicle for evoking an emotional response? I believe art is a connection between humans; a conduit between the creator and the recipient. If the creator is not capable of emotion, where does that leave us with the “art” it creates? (Or as my friend exclaimed: “Then what’s the point? If there is no emotion involved, what’s the point of music?”)

Considering there are actual “hit artists” that are fully AI (the artist, the music, the video - everything is AI-created) inhabiting the top of the Billboard charts, it appears the general public seems to fancy, if not the songs they create, then at the very least the newness of these AI artists. I have yet to meet a fellow human artist who is impressed with the quality of the so-called art. 

But when have the masses ever gone for quality? We all know many of the highly praised artists who are considered masters today were not understood or appreciated in their own lifetimes. Yet some of the (in my opinion) hideous creations have gained almost famed notoriety, simply due to good promotion or something going viral. I’m sure most adults get a sour look on their faces when they hear the beginning of “Baby Shark,” but talk about a monster success in the form of a song! Does that mean it is a good song? I would argue “no”. Just because something takes off, goes viral, or is a huge success does not mean it’s quality. Popularity does not equal brilliance. The broader public does not always recognize true artistry or even genius when it’s right in front of their noses.

I don’t ever see the advancement of AI taking away the true uniqueness of human-created art - whether it is music, poetry, painting, sculpture, or design. The patrons of the arts will always appreciate the human-made brushstrokes of a painting, the fingerprints in the clay, or the skillful playing of an instrument. Appreciating the emotion-evoking experience of a live music event, or standing face to face with a Degas ballerina, is not something that can be reproduced by AI. We may find ourselves robbed of former revenue streams and in need of finding new ways to actualize our art, but this is true with any technological advancement. And as far as advancements go, this one is looking to be a doozy. I would argue it will go down in the history books as a technological revolution.

We, humans, are nothing if not resourceful. When we find ourselves in new and unknown circumstances, we evolve, adapt, and continue creating. Because that’s what it means to be human.

When I was a little girl, I loved horses. I would ride whenever I got the chance. I even helped train and break them in for riding. I volunteered at stables and the local riding school just to be close to them. Our family could never afford to own one (or even co-own one). I participated in 4H and learned everything I could about these magnificent creatures. And since I am also drawn to the arts, even as a child, I would draw horse after horse, as anatomically correctly as I possibly could. ​

2021 was a mega production year for me as a musical artist. I committed to releasing 12 songs in 12 months, a tremendous undertaking for even the most experienced artist. With quite a few of these songs, I would create music videos to go with the releases, making the project even more daunting. During COVID, I had learned how to shoot my own music videos with nothing but my iPhone and the help of friends, like Bryan and his drone. I did all the editing myself. 

The release for May 2021 was “Beer Run,” and I asked my good friend Perlita if I could shoot the video at her country property. She had at the time two horses, and for the very traditional country feel the song had, it felt appropriate to fully embrace the stereotype of a farm and horses.

If I remember correctly, this video was shot entirely with the drone. Of course, my sweet dog Jon Snow had his usual appearance. That is, until he started trying to snap the drone out of the air! We had no idea how the horses would react to the drone either, so we proceeded with caution. 

One of her horses skittishly ran to the other end of the pasture, but Emperor Rastano was curious and followed the drone (and me) around. It was perfect. 

Sometime after the video, poor old Emperor, who had been a trusted companion for Perlita for so many years, succumbed to old age. It was tremendously hard on her. So when she asked if I would paint a portrait of him, I didn’t hesitate for a second.

I started on the painting, and once I had the “bed” or the first layer, it almost felt finished! I stood back and looked at the painting, a bit awestruck. I definitely “tapped in” on this one. But it also got me thinking: Did all those years of studying, riding, and drawing horses in my pre-teens suddenly come through decades later through this painting? True, I know the forms and shapes of a horse so well. It was the feeling of “riding the bike” again after many, many years of not even really thinking about horses. Yet here I was, giving shape to this magnificent creature once again, with flair and ease. I’m still baffled by this experience, and I do not have any satisfying answer to why this particular painting came so effortlessly to me. 

The commission of the painting happened to coincide with Perlita’s 70th birthday, and we unveiled the painting at her birthday party last weekend. One of our mutual friends pitched in and gave it as her gift to Perlita for her birthday. It was such a special moment to see her face when we unveiled the painting.

It is so easy to get bogged down in the details of life, especially when it’s seemingly not going your way. The transmission in our car went out, I was out with a cold, and we are sitting on a house that has been up for sale for almost six months. I’m sure we could drop the price further, but it seems like a bad decision for us at this point.
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Somewhere between car repair estimates and sneezes, I remembered that I have done much harder things than this. I have been in worse places, and I have dealt with worse things. Perspective changes everything. 

Yes, I want to sell this house and move. I am longing to choose my new house and make it beautiful and cozy, and exactly what I want. Because, believe it or not, I have never truly chosen my own living space. In Copenhagen in the aughts, there was such a housing shortage that you almost took whatever you could find. At least you did, if you weren’t independently wealthy at the age of 25. Once I moved to the US, my priority was to simplify my life so that I could devote all my energy to my music career. Sometimes the choice was mine, sometimes it was a lack of choices, but now, I am at a time in my life where choosing my home has become a very high priority for me.

Yes, it sucks to be sick or for the car to break down. Yes, it sucks that the market is stagnant and the value of our house has gone down. All are just things that happen.
But truthfully, it’s not so bad. I have a loving husband, the sweetest pup, and a full and comfortable life of creativity. I have a house with so much space that we have empty rooms sitting around. I have a flexible work schedule that allows me to plan my time however I want.

Both these perspectives are true descriptions of my life; they just differ depending on which angle you look at it from.  But does shifting our perspective truly change anything? I suppose from a pragmatic point of view, you could say, no. It doesn’t actually change anything. The car is still busted, the house is still on the market, and the coughing episodes are still a-plenty. So what does it matter how we look at things? It matters because, from a different perspective, we feel better about the situation. And if we feel better, things are better.

In the Abraham-Hicks paradigm, “all that matters is that you feel good.” In their philosophy, they believe that when you are in a negative emotional state, you can only create negative things in your life. When you “feel good,” you create good things. It sounds so simple to “just feel good”, but it’s about what you are attracting from your current emotional state. And simple doesn’t always mean easy.

So, from the perspective of fretting over unwanted things, the expenses, the stagnation, and the poor health, there are only downsides. For one, you feel horrible. And for the other, you can only create more of that - at least if you believe in the concept of the law of attraction. But from the perspective of gratitude for the good things in your life, you feel better in the moment, and there is at least a chance you will create more of that.  

There is always going to be something we don’t want to deal with. There is always going to be something to avoid. (Cleaning the house, anyone?) There are always unwanted things in our lives, big or small, that we seek to change.

I have found a lovely way to combat these nuisances in my day-to-day life. Given the freedom in my schedule, I often have the choice of what I want to do with my time. It would be tempting to simply ask, “What do I feel like doing today?” With this question, it is too easy (for me, at least) to fall into the trap of only doing the pleasant tasks and playing the ostrich game of burying my head in the sand with the other. But when I ask myself, “How can I make our lives better today?” It sometimes means cleaning the house, winterizing the yard, or even going to work and making some money to contribute to our family. But it also does something else. It helps me take my power back. It helps me look at ways I can improve our current situation, rather than focus on the things I can do nothing about, like the car that is in the hands of the mechanic and is out of my control. This is a much more productive way to deal with difficulties that are, for the time being, out of your control.