As I reformat Skewed North, I’ve been thinking a lot about creative projects, inspiration, and how we navigate the chaos of it all.
I used to say I was spinning plates, but honestly? It feels more like I have a platter—overflowing with creative work, stories, paintings, and projects. Instead of trying to balance everything at once, I’ve realized I just rotate through them based on what I’m hungry for at the time.
Maybe you feel the same way?
You have big ideas, projects you want to finish, stories you want to tell—but how do you decide what to focus on?
You try to plan it all out. You sit down with your calendar, mapping out when you’ll do what. And then... life happens. Inspiration takes over. Distractions creep in. The plan goes out the window.
And suddenly, you’re wondering—does planning even matter? Or is it all about flow?
Are You Overthinking or Just Trying to Make Sense of It All?
Ever heard of analysis paralysis?
A friend recently told me he had to be careful what he said to me because I analyze everything—he wasn’t wrong. At first, I thought it was bad thing, as I often do. But then I realized—what if analyzing things isn’t actually a bad thing?
What if it’s just a way to make sense of the mess, to grow, to figure out the best way forward?
Maybe you do the same thing. Maybe you overthink your creative process, your next step, or whether you’re “doing it right.” Maybe you feel the need to over-organize everything just to feel some sense of control.
I get it. I do that too, sometimes.
I need things visual—laid out in front of me—otherwise, I can’t process them. Some people don’t need that, which blows my mind. Like, how? How do you organize your thoughts without pictures?
I recently learned that some people don’t visualize anything at all. No mental images. No movie playing in their head. Meanwhile, when someone talks to me, I’m automatically translating their words into a mental slideshow, a series of images that take on a life of their own.
Which one are you? Do you see pictures in your mind, or do you think in words?
How Much Do You Plan, and How Much Do You Leave to the Universe?
When I was in Europe, I didn’t plan much.
I like to stay a few steps ahead—just enough so I don’t feel like I’m scrambling—but I also like to leave room for the universe to move.
Where’s the balance, though? Am I the only one who struggles with this?
Maybe you’ve felt it too—that tension between wanting control and allowing things to unfold naturally.
Years ago, I read something by one of my favorite authors, Paulo Coelho that stuck with me. I don’t remember the words exactly but it was something like: You have to act, but you also have to allow the universe to act also."
At the time, I understood the first part. But the second part? Trusting that the universe would actually show up for me? That took years to learn.
They say our relationship with the universe mirrors how we grew up. If you grew up with consistency, you probably trust things will unfold as they should. If you grew up with chaos, you probably learned how to constantly reorient yourself.
That was me.
If your default setting is survival mode, learning how to let go and trust something bigger than yourself? That’s the real challenge.
Navigating Through Art (And Life)
Last week, I had my art exhibit—a collection of 20+ paintings themed around navigation and movement.
The idea was to take people on a journey through my work, moving from the grounded Car Series to the Compass Series and then into the Ethereal Series.
On the little walking tour through the space, I assured people they would find themselves by the end of it. Just like I did.
It started years ago when my husband and I took a road trip across the country. He was a photographer, and when we got back, he handed me a picture of a 1957 Ford in front of an antique shop in Wakeeny, Kansas and said:
"I bet you can’t paint this."
He knew the surest way to get me to do something was to tell me I couldn’t.
So, of course, I painted it.
He loved seeing his little 4x6 photographs turn into 5’x5’ paintings. So much so, he kept giving me his photographs and it turned into a challenge of me painting one painting a week. I called it the “Warhol” series.
Why? Because that such an Andy Warhol thing to do! Hand me his photos so I could churn them out week after week? Yeah. Total Warhol move.
The thing is, when I painted that first car, I had no idea I could even do it. I had never painted a car in my life.
Creating for Others vs. Creating for Yourself
Most of my career has been painting for movies, TV, and theater. I’m handed an image and told to replicate it exactly as I see it.
It’s honed my skills, but it’s also muted my voice.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—creating things for others so much that you forget what your own voice sounds like. Or worse, not even knowing if you have one. Or wondering if you will ever find it.
I used to really dislike what I painted. Many times I wasn’t at the skill level I wanted to be at to replicate the idea in my head. It was frustrating. Sometimes, even with all my abilities, it still is.
At the end of my exhibit were my newer paintings, the ones with my voice in them. After looking at the last piece, The Celestial Keeper, someone asked if I felt like I was channeling something from the other side when I painted.
I told them no—not exactly. But I do feel like I’m channeling different versions of myself—the ones that want to show up on the canvas at that moment.
And maybe that’s all creativity really is. Bringing different versions of ourselves into form.
Everything is Created Twice
They say everything is created twice—once in the mind, and then in physical form.
But is that true for art?
I mean, I see the image in my head, but when I sit down to paint it, it always shifts, transforms, becomes something else.
Maybe the act of creating isn’t about executing a vision, but about discovering something in the process.
Maybe that applies to more than just art.
Maybe it applies to how we build our lives, how we make choices, how we navigate forward.
What do you think?
The Real Question: How Much Do We Control?
I’m always balancing two forces—the need to plan, structure, and organize vs. the need to let things happen naturally.
Maybe you are too.
It’s the ongoing question of navigation vs. surrender—how much do we steer, and how much do we let the universe move us?
Still figuring that out.
But one thing I know for sure—we keep creating, regardless.
And in the end, that’s what matters.
If you are in the Pittsburgh area and want to stop by the exhibit it is open to the public from 9-5, M-F. OneValley at The Roundhouse, 4165 Blair Street, Pittsburgh, PA 15207.
And if you do stop by, let me know what you think!