Before we even pick up a scraper or mix the first bit of wax and oil, I like to ask my Fearless Fun with Cold Wax and Oil students a simple question: what’s your why?

This is a question I ask myself too, as part of my own painting process — is today about playing with first layers, pondering composition, or maybe adding final touches? And most important: how do I want to feel while I'm doing it?

Not in a deep, existential way. Simply, what brought you to this class? What are you hoping to feel, discover, or walk away with?

For some, the answer is "I’ve always wanted to be an artist." And here's the thing — you already are one.

Somewhere along the way, a lot of us got convinced that "artist" is a title you earn, and that art is what other people do; reserved for those who paint like the greats or sell out gallery shows.

But art isn't a title. It's a way of seeing, of noticing, of making something where nothing was before. If you've ever rearranged furniture until a room finally felt right, doodled in the margins of a notebook, or found the perfect combination of spices in a recipe — congratulations, you were being an artist. This class isn't where you become one. It's where you remember you already are.

For others, the why runs a little deeper. Creative time can be genuinely calming — there's real science behind it. Working with your hands, focusing on texture and color and movement, can help activate your parasympathetic nervous system (the "rest and digest" side of things, as opposed to fight-or-flight). It slows your breathing, lowers your heart rate, and gives your mind a break from the noise. Art has long been used as a tool for healing, whether that's processing something hard, finding calm after a stressful stretch, or simply giving yourself permission to just be, for an hour or two, without needing to produce anything perfect.

And that's really the heart of knowing your why. When you walk in with intention, whether it's "I want to explore a new skill" or "I need this hour to just breathe," it changes how you experience the time. Without that intention, it's easy to fall into a trap: you look down at your piece, it isn't shaping up to be some grand masterpiece, and suddenly you're frustrated instead of present.

But if your why was never about creating a masterpiece, if it was about trying something new, or finding calm, or reconnecting with your creative side, then a "messy" piece isn't a failure. It's exactly what you came for.

So before your next creative session (or your next quiet moment with wax and oil at home), take a second and ask yourself: “what's my why?”