What Story Does Your Art Tell?

There’s something I’ve noticed and even participated in: we talk about art like it’s a luxury item, or a finishing touch to your house's decor. But most of the time, it’s not about that at all.

The art I live with—the pieces I keep in my own home—aren’t just pretty. They mean something. They remind me of who I was when I bought them, or what I was walking through when I made them. Most of them have something to do with my family: a guestbook painting from my wedding, a gift from my sister, a painting I made of my husband and my daughter.

They carry a kind of presence. Like a marker in the road that says, you were here.

When I create, I’m usually not thinking about how something will “look” in a room. I've usually already selected what colors I'm working with, so all I’m thinking about is what I feel, what I see, or what I need to process. I paint through questions I don’t have answers for yet.

I paint when I’m sad or lonely, when I'm thrilled by the beauty of the day, when I'm searching for peace or wrestling with the tension between longing for eternity and trust that right here is where I'm supposed to be. And even when I don’t fully understand what a painting is about, I know when it’s honest.

I know when it’s finished because I can look at it and say, that’s true.

That’s what I want my work to do—not just fill a blank wall, but speak to a part of someone’s story. Maybe it sits above a desk where hard decisions are made. Maybe it’s in a hallway passed every morning before coffee. Maybe it hangs in a space that’s seen joy and loss and change. I don’t need to know all the details. I just hope the work holds something steady.

I believe God uses beauty to draw our hearts toward bigger truths—especially the beauty of His own handiwork, but also of ours. Not always loudly. Sometimes it's just a reminder that there’s more to this world than what we can see or explain. That He is still present, still working, still speaking—through His word, through His people, and even through ordinary things like color and light and paper.

So if you’re here, if you’ve ever looked at a piece of art and felt something stir in you, I just want to say: that matters.

You don’t need to explain it.

You don’t need to justify it.

You’re allowed to bring beauty into your life simply because it reminds you of something true.

And maybe the better question isn’t “what matches the space,” but—

What story does your art tell?