“Epic hiked completed!” I texted a friend, with a photo attached from my two-day adventure in the Patagonia region of Argentina.

“Getting some ideas for new paintings?” my friend asked me.

“Maybe,” I texted her. “Gotta let it sit for a bit.”

It's a question that I often get asked when I hike and travel. Everyone knows that hiking inspires my paintings, but when it comes to actually putting that inspiration into action, I realize that I don't often share much about that process.

So, I thought I'd take you behind-the-scenes and share how I turn inspiration from hiking into paintings!

To start, I don't typically go into hikes with a pre-set idea or plan. I just start walking, and I notice the thoughts and ideas that come up—usually in response to the colors, visuals, and feelings I'm experiencing on the hike.

So, for example, on Friday when we began our two-day adventure, we got to a portion of the hike that was steep and difficult. I was breathing hard, and my legs were hurting. “One foot in front of the other,” I kept telling myself.

And then, when the trail became flatter, I started noticing how calm and other-worldly the forest felt. It was near the end of the day, so the sunlight was becoming softer and casting a warm glow over the brush- and moss-covered forest floor, which was dotted with tiny yellow flowers. Compared to the soft, golden light of the sun flickering through the trees, the brush was a rich, cool sage.

And then, I noticed how tall and big the trees were.

“Wow, this forest is old,” I said out loud and with deep admiration. I began thinking about the old-soul wisdom that must exist in trees this old—how much they've seen, how much they know.

This is the moment that came to mind when my friend asked me if my hike had sparked any ideas for new paintings. “Old Growth” is the phrase that came to mind—which made me smile for how it seemed to mirror my last painting collection, New Beginnings.

This is how my mind works when I'm gathering inspiration for new paintings. I don't have a pre-set idea about what I'm trying to capture, and the inspiration is never just visual. It's about how the visuals interact with the thoughts, feelings, and experiences that I bring into the hike, and how the hike makes me think about them differently.

Last year, when I created the paintings in New Beginnings, I felt like I was being pushed and stretched to my limit. I felt like I was being expanded, but in a way that felt hard, emotional, and raw. So what I noticed at the time was the vibrancy and beauty of sunsets—and how sunsets are a metaphor for the beauty that comes from hard things.

"Sunsets are essentially the death of a day,” I remember telling a collector at an art show last year. “Death is hard. You're going into the dark part of night without knowing what's on the other side—but the sun always rises in the morning. The hope and beauty always returns and, in fact, is only possible because of the darkness of night."

This year, though, I feel grounded and calm. I feel wiser and stronger because of all that I experienced last year—so it makes sense that what I'm noticing on my hikes is old-soul wisdom and growth. And, the colors I'm noticing also reflect that. I can already envision paintings with thin washes of golden yellow, strengthened and punctuated by strokes of deep, cool, and earthy greens.

Here, while in Argentina, I'll process while I continue to gather inspiration. And I'll start mixing colors and putting these ideas onto canvas once I return home.

I love painting as a response to what's happening in my life. It makes me feel more connected to my paintings, knowing that they're not just visual, but milestone markers, if you will. And I hope you experience them that way as well—as visual reminders of all that you've been through, and all of the wisdom that you now have.

Did you find this insightful? What else would you like to know about my creative process? Leave a comment below.

From Hiking to Painting