Once upon a time—let’s be real, not that long ago—I absolutely hated how I painted.
I couldn’t get it right.
I had these giant, cinematic visions in my head, but not the skill to bring them to life. I’d get frustrated, abandon pieces halfway, and stare at a growing stack of unfinished canvases that felt like proof I wasn’t good enough.
By 30, I had an entire stack of what felt like failures.
So I did what any practical (and okay, slightly dramatic) person would do: I bought a 55-gallon drum and burned them all.
Yep. Gone. To a crisp. No going back.
All that remains is a box of old slides from when galleries required professional photos on film. I still have them—little ghosts of my "rotten work"—and knowing me, I’ll probably turn them into something else someday. That’s just how I work.
Why Burn Them? Because I Needed to Let Go
Even though I felt inadequate, I kept showing up.
I didn’t have a grand plan to become “an artist.” I just wanted to get better.
At 39, I picked up my brushes again. And it was...different.
It was easier. It was better.
Turns out, ten years of painting other people’s visions for film and television teaches you more than just technique.
It teaches humility. Patience. How to solve problems you didn’t even know existed.
It showed me the path doesn’t have to match my vision to be valuable. That detours can become the training ground for exactly what you’ll need later.
If I hadn’t taken that winding, literal scenic route, I wouldn’t have the skill—or the perspective—I have now.
People sometimes tell me I “made it” because of my career. And yes, in some ways, I did. I built something real. I learned to deliver.
But in other ways? I’m still chasing what I dreamed for myself.
And honestly? That’s okay.
Because the best advice I can give you—and myself—is this:
You’re allowed to hold gratitude for where you are while still wanting more.
You can be proud of what you built and curious about what’s next.
You don’t have to choose.
Keep going.
It’s Time to Do It Again
And now?
I’m about to do it again.
No, I’m probably not burning everything this time. (Probably.) But I am clearing the decks. I’ll be getting rid of hundreds of old canvases. Not because they’re worthless. Not because they’re failures.
Because they’re done.
They’ve taught me what they needed to teach. They’re a map of who I was—not who I’m becoming.
I’m making space for something new. A whole new series. A whole new sense of meaning.
Painting, for me, has never just been about color on canvas.
It’s always been about charting the territory of the soul.
It’s about mapping those inner landscapes as they shift, crack, and grow back into new shapes.
Let’s Make This About You, Too
I want you to know—this isn’t just an “artist” thing.
It’s a human thing.
We all carry old maps:
Jobs that don’t fit anymore.
Dreams that don’t speak to us now.
Stories about ourselves that might have been true once, but feel too small today.
We’re taught to hold on. To prove it wasn’t wasted effort. To keep everything we’ve made.
But sometimes the bravest thing is to release it.
To say: This is finished.
To trust that clearing space isn’t destruction—it’s an invitation.
An invitation for something new to take root.
And here’s what I hope you hear most:
Don’t give up on yourself.
You’re allowed to change.
You can outgrow old versions of you.
You should.
Because that’s how you make room for what’s next.
And If you need permission to begin again, let this be it.
A Few Questions for Both of Us
What are you carrying that no longer serves you?
What would you set down if you weren’t afraid?
What new self is waiting for you to make space?
I’m asking myself these same questions.
Because reinvention isn’t a single moment.
It’s a practice.
It’s messy. It’s uncertain.
It’s also liberating.
It’s how we grow into the life—and the art—we’re meant to create.
I’m excited—and yes, a little terrified—to see where this next chapter leads.
I hope you’ll wander this Skewed North with me.
Because even when the path is crooked and strange—
I promise you, it’s worth it.
With love,
Jolene
How you see things are different from myself and others although educational
for those of us that see through a different lens.
Always a treat to see your next adventure. Love your perspective. How you analyze all things.
Your art is awesome too!