In 2023, I created my most recent meaningful project, Wandering Day Dreams. It's a series that carries so much of my memory, place, and healing. It asked a lot of me in its creation— emotionally, mentally, spiritually — and I’m incredibly grateful it resonated with so many people.
In the aftermath of that collection, I find myself in a strange in-between space before I launch the next project. The question isn’t really “What now?” It’s more like, “Is it okay if the next thing isn’t as big as the last?”
Part of me worries that whatever comes next won’t feel as impactful or as emotionally layered. Right now, I’m making work that I genuinely enjoy creating. I’m playing with color relationships, experimenting with techniques, following instincts instead of outlines. The work brings me joy. It’s fun.
And yet — because it’s fun — I catch myself wondering: is it okay that its just fun?
On the surface, I know the answer is yes. But there’s still that anxiety about a lighter collection living in the shadow of Wandering Day Dreams. I wonder if I’m supposed to be building toward something “bigger.” I wonder if art is allowed to exist simply because it wants to.
As I look ahead to the next major project — and yes, there is one forming — I know I’m not ready to dive into it yet. A meaningful body of work requires a certain headspace, stamina, and emotional availability. What I’m making now isn’t meaningless, it’s restorative. These pieces exist as a recharge between projects. They are how I gather strength for what’s next.
But knowing that doesn’t completely silence the tension.
There’s also the business component. Because this is my livelihood, I’m always thinking about sustainability. I want to sell my work, and be wise with my time. And sometimes my productivity brain pipes up and says, “Should you really be playing right now?” That voice wants efficiency. And I know it’s just trying to protect me.
But my creative brain knows something equally important: play is not wasted time. Play is maintenance. It’s how ideas breathe. I mean, burnout isn’t business-savvy either! If I force myself into the next heavy project before I’m ready, the work will suffer — and so will I.
Not every season of creation is meant to look the same. Some will carry weight, and some will feel lighter. But at the end of the day, I’m the one who carries the practice. I’m the one who has to sustain it for the long term. And maybe sustaining it doesn’t always mean pushing harder — maybe sometimes it means letting myself paint simply because I want to. I’ll know when I’m ready to return to the next project. For now I’m having fun, and that’s enough.
Yours truly,
Makara