Reconnecting With My Own Creativity

It’s been on my mind a lot lately how much I miss creating my own art. Not the kind that’s part of a lesson plan or something meant for a class display, but the kind that comes from a quiet, personal place. I miss the stillness of painting just for myself, when time seems to slow down and the only thing that matters is color and movement. I miss the storytelling side of contemporary photography, where I can play with light and emotion and say things without words.

Teaching and running my studio bring me so much happiness. There’s nothing like seeing a student’s eyes light up when they realize they made something beautiful with their own hands. I love being part of those moments. But recently I’ve realized that while I pour so much energy into encouraging my students to create boldly and with heart, I’ve forgotten to do the same for myself.

A few weeks ago I finally shared one of my own pieces in a little art exhibition, something I haven’t done in a very long time. It was personal, emotional, and deeply connected to my culture and memories. The act of submitting that piece reminded me how much I’ve missed that part of my life. It was both nerve wracking and exciting to put my own work out there again, but it stirred something in me that had been quiet for too long.

That experience reminded me why I became an artist in the first place. Before I was a teacher, before I was coordinating events and leading art clubs, I was someone who created to express, to heal, and to understand the world around me. I want to find my way back to that version of myself, the one who stayed up late painting, photographing, and experimenting just because it felt right.

I want to start small and give myself permission to explore again. Maybe that means setting aside time each week to paint. Maybe it’s capturing more stories through my lens. Maybe it’s just allowing myself to make art that no one ever sees. What matters is that I keep creating for me.

I tell my students all the time that their voice matters, that their art tells a story only they can tell. I think it’s time I start listening to my own advice. This moment, this return to my own art, is my reminder that creativity isn’t something we teach, it’s something we live. And it’s okay to begin again.

If you’ve been feeling that same tug to create again, this is your sign. Start small. Pick up that brush, that camera, that pencil, or whatever makes you feel most like yourself. It doesn’t have to be perfect or even finished. What matters is that you start. Art has a way of finding us right where we are, waiting patiently until we’re ready to return. So here’s to beginning again, one small, honest creation at a time

With love and gratitude,
Ms. Roxy