A few weeks ago I stumbled across something I hadn’t looked at in years… the very first blog post I ever wrote about live wedding painting. Looking back, I realize that first blog post was a little like this small rowboat resting quietly on the shore. At the time, it seemed insignificant. I had no idea it would eventually carry me somewhere I never expected.
It was published in July of 2019 after my very first live wedding painting. As I read through it, I couldn’t help but smile. The paragraphs were a little too long, there were a few grammatical mistakes, and the title certainly wasn’t written with search engines in mind. At the time I knew almost nothing about SEO or keywords. I simply wanted to tell the story.
That blog post no longer exists on my website. In 2023 I redesigned my website, moving everything from Weebly to Showit with a WordPress blog, and somewhere along the way that first post was never republished.
Finding it again felt a little like opening an old sketchbook.
You smile at the rough edges. You notice how much you’ve grown. But you’re also reminded of where the journey began.
Looking back now, I honestly believe that one simple blog post helped change the direction of my art career.
More Than Just a Story
When I wrote that first post, I wasn’t thinking about marketing.
I wasn’t trying to become known as a live wedding painter or wondering how many people would read it. I had simply experienced something so memorable that I wanted to write it down before the details faded.
I can still remember standing beneath the graceful willow trees at the wedding venue. The moment I saw them, I was transported back to my childhood. We had a large willow tree in our front yard, and I loved watching those long branches sway in the wind. As a little girl, it always seemed as though they had been invited to dance the moment the wind whispered a sweet hush.
That memory had absolutely nothing to do with live wedding painting, yet everything to do with how I experienced that day.
I think that’s what artists do. We notice little things that others might overlook. The way the afternoon sun settles across the guests’ shoulders. The quiet sound of a fountain before the ceremony begins. The feeling of anticipation in the air. Those observations become part of the painting, but they also become part of the story.
Why Blogging Has Always Felt Natural to Me
Over the years I’ve often been asked how I market my artwork.
The truth is, blogging has always felt much more natural to me than social media.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I still enjoy sharing my work on Instagram and Facebook, and I’m grateful for the wonderful people I’ve met there. But social media often feels like showing someone the finished painting.
A blog allows me to invite someone to pull up a chair beside the easel.
It’s where I can share the story behind the painting, the unexpected challenges, the conversations with guests, the lessons I’ve learned, and sometimes the memories that unexpectedly surface while I’m painting.
To me, it feels less like marketing and more like having a conversation.
The Quiet Power of a Blog
This spring my husband Dean built a hydroponic garden on the side wall of our deck. If I’m being completely honest, my first impression wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. It looked like a giant checkerboard made from white tubes fastened to the wall. Tiny openings held more than fifty little seedlings—lettuce, kale, herbs and vegetables that were barely visible.
Every morning we’d look outside, and I’d wonder if all that work would really amount to anything.
Then the rain came.
The sunshine followed.
Little by little the seedlings began to grow.
Now here we are at the beginning of July, and those once-empty tubes are overflowing with beautiful greens that we’ve been enjoying almost every day. What first looked like an eyesore has become one of my favorite parts of our deck.
Lately I’ve realized blogging is very much the same.
One blog post may feel insignificant. You press “Publish,” and for a while it can seem as though no one even notices. It’s easy to wonder if it was worth the effort.
But every blog post is another seed.
Given enough time, those stories begin to grow. They connect with one another. Before long, you’ve created something much bigger than a collection of articles. You’ve created a garden of experiences, lessons, paintings and memories that someone else may discover years later.
That first blog post from 2019 was one tiny seed.
At the time, I had no idea what would grow from it.
Finding My Voice Again
For years I wrote every one of my blog posts myself.
I wasn’t the fastest writer, and I certainly wasn’t the best editor. Grammarly became my faithful companion, helping me smooth out awkward sentences and catch mistakes. Writing often took much longer than painting, but I genuinely enjoyed the process because every word felt like my own.
Then ChatGPT came along.
Like many people, I was fascinated. I asked it to write entire blog posts for me. They were polished, organized and grammatically correct.
But after reading them, I realized something was missing.
They didn’t sound like me.
Somewhere between the perfect grammar and perfectly organized paragraphs, I had lost my own voice.
Today my process looks very different.
I write first. Sometimes it’s in the Notes app on my phone. Other times, like today, I simply open ChatGPT and begin typing whatever is on my mind. I don’t worry about grammar or sentence structure. I just write while the thoughts are fresh.
Only then do I begin editing.
Instead of asking ChatGPT to write for me, I ask it to help me organize my ideas, tighten the writing, improve the flow and remove repetition while protecting the voice that makes the writing feel like mine.
For me, that’s been the best of both worlds.
Why I Hope More Artists Will Write
Recently I was listening to art historian Micah Christensen on Jeff Hein’s Undraped Artist podcast, and something he said has stayed with me.
He mentioned that when researchers look back at the lives of many women artists, they often discover surprisingly little written about their artistic journey. Their obituaries lovingly describe them as devoted wives, mothers, grandmothers and friends—all beautiful and meaningful roles—but very little is written about the decades they devoted to creating art.
That thought has lingered with me.
Who will tell those stories if we don’t?
Every painting has a story behind it. Every artist has moments of doubt, joy, frustration, growth and discovery. If we never write those stories down, so much of that creative life quietly disappears.
Perhaps blogging isn’t only about marketing.
Perhaps it’s also about leaving something behind.
Artists have always recorded history.
Sometimes through portraits of kings and queens.
Sometimes through ordinary families gathered around a dinner table.
Today, live wedding painters are doing much the same thing. We preserve moments that will never happen again. Years from now, someone may look at one of our paintings and remember exactly how that day felt.
Our paintings preserve the moment.
Our words preserve the meaning.
I think both matter.
Looking Ahead
Seven years ago I couldn’t have imagined where that first blog post would lead.
So now I find myself wondering…
Where will this one lead?
Perhaps seven years from now I’ll read these words again and smile, just as I smiled reading that first blog post.
Maybe by then I’ll be teaching young artists—not only how to paint, but how to build a life around their art. Perhaps there will be an atelier where students learn classical painting alongside business, storytelling, and how to build a successful commissioned art career.
I hope there will always be artists willing to paint the weddings, celebrations and everyday moments of their generation. Artists have always helped preserve history—not only through grand historical scenes, but through ordinary moments filled with love, family and hope.
Those moments matter.
Looking back, that first blog post wasn’t perfect.
If I were writing it today, I’d choose a stronger title and naturally include a few keywords to help people discover it. But I’m so grateful I didn’t wait until I knew all those things before pressing “Publish.”
Sometimes we convince ourselves we need better writing, better photographs, a better website, or a better understanding of SEO before we’re ready.
The truth is, we learn by doing.
If you’ve been thinking about writing about your artwork, your creative process, or your journey as an artist, let this be your encouragement.
Tell your story.
You never know which one might quietly become the beginning of your next chapter.
Featured Painting
Waiting for a Ride
Plein air oil painting, Trolley Road, Guilford, Connecticut.
I painted this peaceful marsh scene on a warm summer afternoon while sitting along Trolley Road in Guilford. The little rowboat resting quietly on the shore seemed content to wait for the tide, reminding me that some journeys begin long before we realize where they’re taking us. Looking back, that feels very much like this story.
