January' 26

To be Human is to be an Artist

If you looked up the word art in the dictionary, you’d probably find something like this:

"The expression of human creative skill and imagination, especially in visual form. Painting, sculpture, photography, music, writing — works made to move us through beauty or emotion. "

You might also see another meaning: a skill at doing something. The art of listening. The art of healing. The art of living.

But the word art is older than galleries and labels. It comes from the Latin word ars, which meant skill, craft, method, way of doing something. And even deeper than that, it traces back to a root that means: to fit together, to join, to arrange. So art, at its origin, is not about decoration. It is about shaping. Arranging. Making something fit together with intention. In ancient times, art wasn’t separated from life. Medicine was an art. Teaching was an art. Storytelling, building, healing, navigating the stars — all of it was art. Anything that required care, skill, and conscious shaping of reality belonged to ars. Which means art is not first about products. It is about relationship — between what lives inside us and the world we touch. Art is the human instinct to take raw life and say: I will shape this. I will give this meaning. I will make something where there was nothing. Art is the courage to translate inner life into outer form. The devotion to turn feeling into color, breath into word, memory into movement, longing into sound. It is how the invisible becomes visible. And this is why every human is inherently an artist. Not because everyone paints or writes or sings — but because everyone shapes life.  

Every time someone tells a story, cooks with care, makes coffee like it's a ritual, arranges a home, raises a child, tends a garden, speaks with honesty, or chooses love over fear — they are practicing art. They are shaping life with intention. Art is not a luxury. It is not owned by the talented few. It is not something we earn permission to do. It is our birthright. Art is the human way of making meaning. Of saying: I am here. I feel. I remember. I imagine. And I will leave a trace of that. Being alive is not art as performance — it is alchemy. The remembering of who we are beneath roles, wounds, and expectations. The remembering that shaping life is not something we outsource. It is something we are born knowing how to do. To create is not to impress. It is to exist out loud. To shape life so it reflects what lives inside us. And in a world that can so easily rushed, and disconnected, to create is not just beautiful — it is necessary. Because when we shape life with intention, we don’t just make art. We make ourselves visible and we change the world we live in.

Ars vivendi

December' 25

I’m Not Here to Fix You (And That’s the Point)

Let’s get something out of the way.

I am not a coach — I’m not trained to diagnose or treat; I’m a woman, a mother, an artist with lived experience who creates space with deep respect for people, their doubts, their tenderness, and their unfinished stories.
I’m not here to help you “step into your highest self,” “rewrite your story,” or “manifest the life you deserve.”

Honestly? If one more person had come to tell me I just needed to love myself harder, I might have - yet again - screamed into the night and then book a rage-room session.

Here’s what I actually believe:

Most of us don’t struggle because we don’t love ourselves. We struggle because we don’t like ourselves. Or trust ourselves.
Or feel safe sitting alone with our own thoughts for more than five minutes without grabbing a phone, a distraction, a plan, or a promise that everything will be fine soon. And no amount of positive thinking fixes that.

Language does matter, yes. But simply changing the way we speak to ourselves without acceptance is just paint over rot, and quite frankly, there was a time I didn't believe a single word of positivity I directed towards myself.

I see a lot of work out there that jumps straight to the shiny part. Affirmations. Confidence. Self-care routines. Morning rituals that somehow require a perfectly timed sunrise and zero emotional mess. What I see missing is the part before all of that.

The part where you sit down and admit:

• I feel wrong.

• I feel behind.

• I feel broken.

• I don’t recognize myself.

• I don’t like who I am right now.

What if instead of rushing to fix it… you just stay with it all. That’s where this work lives.

The Curious Art of Her didn’t start as a brand. It started as survival. I found my way back to myself through creative expression because it was the only place where I didn’t have to perform healing. I could paint badly. Write honestly. Photograph what was real instead of what was impressive.

Creativity, when it’s done right, doesn’t ask you to improve. It asks you to show up — quietly.

So that’s what I offer.

Not solutions.
Not outcomes.
Not a promise that you’ll feel amazing afterward.

I create spaces — through photography, writing, painting, and simple creative practices — where you can actually sit with yourself without being told what you should feel or do next.

No fixing.
No cheerleading.
No spiritual bypassing dressed up as wisdom or enlightenment.

What you do with what you find here is up to you.

Maybe it leads you to therapy.
Maybe it leads you to coaching.
Maybe it leads you nowhere except back to your own body for the first time in a while.

All of those are valid.

This is the work before the work.
The part that doesn’t look good on Instagram.
The part that doesn’t sell well because it doesn’t promise transformation — it asks for honesty.

And honestly?
That’s where the real magic is.

If you’re looking for someone to tell you you’re already healed, enlightened, or doing amazing — I’m probably not your person.

But if you’re willing to sit down with yourself, without an agenda, without a five-step plan, without pretending you’re fine…

Welcome.

You don’t need to change to be here.
You just need to show up.

And then —
we’ll see what happens.