The Season of Change
There is something about the arrival of fall that makes me pay attention. The autumn equinox brings that brief moment of balance between light and dark, and then, almost imperceptibly, the balance begins to shift. The days shorten, the light changes, the landscape transforms, and we find ourselves moving into a new season.
I’ve been thinking a lot about change this year—how it can be both exciting and uncomfortable, and how often we don’t really know what is waiting for us on the other side of it. As artists, we’re accustomed to this uncertainty. We start with an idea, follow a hunch, add a layer, scrape something away, change direction, and sometimes discover that the unexpected turn is where the real magic begins.
I find myself at one of those turning points now, with plenty of questions, possibilities, and a few exciting things taking shape behind the scenes. I’m trying to resist the urge to have everything figured out and instead stay curious about what might unfold.
Life isn’t all that different. Because of all of this change-think, I have decided to cut back drastically on my in-person teaching beginning next year. This decision is not an easy one and has taken about 3-5 years for me to fully latch onto, but with a very important birthday taking place next year, I simply want more time in my life to focus on my personal work. Please don’t fret if you were looking forward to an in-person encaustic retreat in 2027, there are still 3 opportunities available. Plus, a lot more live and self-guided virtual workshops coming your way. I hope to see you in one of them!
Why…?
When I first started graduate school with a Fellowship, my mentor asked what I wanted to do after gradation-focus on teaching or my studio work. My answer was quick and decisive-I definitely want nothing to do with teaching! She looked surprised and said, Well, I’d like you to teach the beginning section of Surface Design next week…I think you’ll be a great teacher. With no option left but to return the fellowship, I taught those sections and guess what? She was absolutely right; I WAS a good teacher. Not only that, I was also in love with every aspect of teaching. From there started a 16-year career in academia and a 21-year stint as a traveling workshop instructor, teaching up to ten workshops a year in the early years. Teaching workshops, traveling all around the country and beyond was such an amazing experience for this restless nomad, sometimes I couldn’t even believe I made a living this way. I thought I would never end this dream. However, packing, travel and set up of excessive equipment involved with encaustic painting takes an enormous toll on the physical body, even when one is in relatively good shape. Unfortunately, our bodies end things long before our minds are ready.
One of the greatest gifts of teaching has been the people I’ve had the privilege of teaching along the way. During my 25+ years of teaching, I’ve taught hundreds, perhaps well into the thousands, of students and workshop participants and have enjoyed them all. They continually surprise and inspire me with their curiosity, willingness to experiment, and the unique ways they see the world. I may be the one standing at the front of the room, but I’ve learned just as much from them as they have from me. Their questions have made me look at my own work differently, their discoveries have opened up new possibilities, and their courage to try something unfamiliar has reminded me to keep experimenting myself. After all these years of teaching, I’m still learning—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Perhaps that is one of the gifts of a new season: permission to learn and begin again. To make room. To let go of something that has run its course and leave space for something new to emerge.
So, as fall settles in, I’m embracing the changes, the unknowns, and the possibilities. There are some exciting things ahead, and I can’t wait to share more with you soon.