"Honey, abstract is harder than you think..."

Challenges fuel my passion. After a 30-year career in business, transitioning to life as a professional artist was no small feat—it was a leap into the unknown. But I embraced it with determination, turning doubts into milestones of success. Today, my art resides in private and corporate collections, yet one phrase still echoes in my journey: 'You can't.' And every time I hear it, I smile—because it's the perfect spark to prove otherwise.

One recent encounter stands out. I had set my sights on a well-known gallery in Toronto—one known for showcasing abstract art. While my work wasn’t typically abstract, I felt confident it would hold its own in a space like that. When I visited the gallery, the owner welcomed me politely but somewhat skeptically. She explained that the gallery focused on abstract pieces, which didn’t phase me. I’d been ready for that. So I told her I’d be interested in submitting abstract work, in addition to what I usually create.

With a knowing (and frankly condescending) look, she replied, "Honey, abstract is harder than you think."

That one sentence stayed with me. It wasn’t the first time I’d been told I wasn’t the right fit or that I couldn’t do something. But her comment lingered, and it sparked something within me. My instinct was not just to prove her wrong but to expand my art practice to include the very style she thought was beyond my reach.

My favourite poet, Mary Oliver, wrote, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" In the situation I just described, I knew it was an opportunity to answer that question with a new direction. Yes, abstract art is complex; it’s an art of distillation and pure emotion, requiring precision with just the right amount of abandon. But that’s precisely why it fascinated me. I welcomed the challenge, and that experience prompted me to dive into a new approach, one that called on me to stretch as an artist.

I spent hours in my studio experimenting, letting go of the representational nature that had become my comfort zone. It was freeing. In abstract art, I found both a release and an intensity that expanded my perspective, allowing me to see my subjects through fresh eyes. The journey took time, and it wasn't easy, but I was reminded (again) of Mary Oliver’s words: "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves." And that’s what I did—I let my work reflect something deeper and less defined.

The results? I created pieces that I could hardly have imagined before. Some of them were challenging and unsettling. Others felt like a new part of my artistic language. This experience reminded me of the power of a naysayer in the creative process; sometimes all it takes is a little doubt to light the fire that drives you forward.

So, if you ever hear, "You can't," consider it an invitation. Embrace the unknown. Push forward. Because in that space between what you know and what others doubt, lies the most fertile ground for growth and discovery.  

"Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." 

- Mary Oliver -