What “Return to the Slow” Means to Me

Theres’s a phrase you are going to start to hear a lot more soon: “Return to the slow.” I’ve adopted it as sort of a mantra as well as a huge part of my business mission. You see, like you, I am multifaceted and creating artwork is just one of my passions. I’m also in love with nature; and quite frankly, the societal norms that humans have created, just don’t sit well with me. 

So I intend to “Return to the Slow.”

But to “return to the slow” isn’t a retreat so much as a return—back to something we’ve always known deep in our bones. A different pace. A different kind of beauty. One rooted in presence, in connection, in enoughness. For me, it’s the antidote to a world that never stops asking for more.

I didn’t arrive here through one sudden shift, but through a growing ache. A quiet, persistent awareness that modern life—its hustle, its metrics, its obsession with productivity—was slowly draining something vital from me. We are told to always be doing, producing, optimizing. But at what cost?

In my art practice, I’ve been learning to resist that pull. To paint slowly and with intention. To let the work breathe. To savor the process rather than race to a finish line. I believe the pace of creation matters just as much as the outcome. I believe handmade things hold a kind of soul.

But this return isn’t only about art. It’s also about the rhythms of daily life—about sipping tea slowly, wandering outside barefoot, reading poems in the quiet of early morning. It’s about saying no to constant striving and yes to presence. It’s about remembering that we’re part of the earth, not separate from it.

I think so many of us are hungry for this. Not just for beauty, but for depth. Not just for calm, but for meaning.

So much of what I create—my paintings, the words I write—is an offering toward that return. A gentle nudge back to yourself. Back to the slow.

If you’re new here: welcome. I hope what I share gives you space to breathe, to feel, to reconnect. I hope it reminds you that it’s okay to move at your own pace. That stillness and presence is, perhaps, the point of it all.