Small Steps Toward Selling My Art Without Selling My Soul

A reflection on starting over, embracing imperfection and building a creative business rooted in honestly, not hustle.

I’ve always loved creating art. There’s something quiet and grounding about getting lost in details, in layers of colour, in bringing an animal’s expression to life. I also loved how people reacted to my art — the way their faces softened, lit up or become emotional when they saw a beloved pet captured just right.

For a long time, the dream was simple: create and sell my work. Let it bring others joy. But the reality turned out to be far more complicated. Once I stepped beyond the support of friends and family, I found myself tangled in the noise of marketing strategies, pricing structures, algorithms, and what felt like an endless push to perform. It all began to feel overwhelming… and honestly, too commercial for the kind of heart-led life I wanted to build.

I longed for something gentler — a slower, more holistic way of doing this. I didn’t want a hard sell. I wanted people to find me because something in my work spoke to them. But here’s the truth: I didn’t really know how to show myself to the world, because I was still figuring out who I was underneath all the pressure.

Since my ADHD diagnosis, I’ve peeled back a lot of those layers. I’ve started understanding how my brain works, how I respond to the world, and what matters most to me. And with that understanding has come something new: a readiness. Not to chase a big, loud dream, but to start gently building something real — a business that reflects not just what I make, but who I am.

Why I Paused

Recently, well about 5 months ago, I stopped making art altogether. The overwhelm crept in slowly, then suddenly — and with it came the heavy fog of procrastination. All the negative self-talk got louder: You’re not good enough. You’re not doing it right. What’s the point? It echoed around my head until I couldn’t hear anything else.

But underneath all that noise, something still stirred. I still wanted to create, I still wanted to run my own art business. I still longed to make art for others — to connect through it, to bring joy through it. I just knew I couldn’t do it the way I’d been told I was “supposed” to.

I didn’t want to chase trends or polish everything for social media. That world felt far too curated, and far too far from the truth of being an artist.

So I made a quiet decision: to go back to the very beginning. Not only to go back to the first time I imagined having a little website of my own — a quiet space where I could blog, not just to share finished art, but to document the whole journey. The good, the bad, and the downright messy.

But also to return to the very beginning of what creating meant to me. To play. To experiment. To make terrible, awkward, beautiful messes — and let that be okay.

In going back, I’ve found myself again. I’m learning new techniques, trying new materials, making strange things that surprise me — and that’s where the magic seems to live. I wanted to make space for honesty, not perfection. Because if we only ever show the polished bits, we miss the most meaningful parts of the process — the part where we grow.

So this is where I am now.

Starting again, but not from scratch — from experience. Taking small, intentional steps toward building something that feels aligned with who I am and how I want to share my art. There’s no grand strategy, no perfect plan — just a deep desire to create, to connect, and to tell the truth about what it’s really like to be an artist figuring things out.

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by the noise or unsure where you fit in — you’re not alone. Maybe you’ll see a bit of yourself here. And if you’re willing to walk alongside me in this honest, imperfect journey, then I’d love to have you here.