Fluidity—like water carving new pathways around a sandcastle—is at the heart of both art and life. As we create, new directions emerge, reshaping the way we see ourselves and our work. But it’s important to remember: we make art because of who we are, not the other way around.
Identity becomes fragile when it’s solely derived from the art we make. Art reaches its greatest potential when the individual behind it continually re-evaluates their existential “why.” The creative process thrives when we allow ourselves the grace to let that answer evolve, remain unknown, or be entirely different tomorrow. It requires the humility to set our egos aside and embrace change.
So, who am I when I don’t paint? I’m a dad, a fan of early 2000s country music, a philosophy nerd, a relentless dad-joke teller, a mildly awkward dancer, a traveler who prefers someone else to book the tickets, and a champion of playing Forgetting Sarah Marshall at any movie night.
Tomorrow, some of these identities may shift. Others will always remain. Their fluctuations—the interplay of constants and change—are what make life both the icing and the cake. They’re what add spice to the journey, making it all the more delicious.