Artist Diaries: desert inspiration
Hello friends,
I recently returned from a trip to the desert, and I’ve been sitting with just how unexpected it all felt. I don’t think I realized how beautiful the desert could be. It’s not lush or obvious… but there’s something about it that asks you to slow down and really look. And once you do, it stays with you.
We stayed at JW Marriott Scottsdale Camelback Inn Resort & Spa, tucked into the landscape in a way that felt both grounding and expansive. The mountains stretched out in every direction, soft and hazy in the distance, while the light moved across them throughout the day in a way that felt so alive. Mornings were gentle and quiet, and by evening everything seemed to glow—warm, golden, and still.
What surprised me most was the plant life. Why did I never think of the desert as being so alive? The desert holds its beauty differently… in sculptural shapes, muted tones, hazy light, and bold textures. Every cactus, every twisted branch, every tough little patch of flowering ground cover felt like an artistic composition on its own. It made me think a lot about the kind of beauty we overlook—the kind that doesn’t ask for attention, but rewards you when you give it.
Of course, I couldn’t help but go searching for stones to bring back to the studio. That part didn’t come as easily as I imagined. Much of what I found was granite—dense, heavy, and nearly impossible to break down by hand. I spent a few hikes feeling determined… and then a little frustrated… hoping each turn would reveal something more workable. It became its own quiet challenge, learning the landscape in a different way.
But eventually, I did find a few pieces worth bringing home. Not many—but enough. And somehow, that made them feel even more special. They’re sitting in the studio now, waiting. I’m curious to see what they’ll become, what colors they’ll reveal, and what kind of work they might lead me into next.
There’s something about returning home with just a handful of materials and a mind full of inspiration. It feels like the beginning of something—slow, undefined, but full of possibility. And I’m looking forward to following that thread and seeing where it leads.
This trip felt like a quiet turning point for me—a reminder that inspiration doesn’t always arrive in the ways we expect, but it’s always there when we’re willing to see differently. I’m carrying that feeling back into the studio with me as I continue this slow return to creating. If you’d like to follow along, I’ll be sharing more of the process on social media and to my email list. I’ll begin experimenting with these desert stones, discovering their colors, and letting new work take shape in its own time. It feels special to let it unfold naturally… and even more special to have you be a part of it.
