MY JOURNEY BACK TO ART
HEY! I'm SUSAN...
If I could wave a magic wand and be anything, I’d be an artist. That’s what I said when someone asked me—well into adulthood, after years of trying to “figure it all out.” It caught me off guard, because I’d never actually let myself say it out loud.
Being an artist? That’s not practical. Right?
So instead of fully embracing art, I spent decades trying to get close to it in more acceptable, “practical” ways.
Right out of high school, I trained as a special effects makeup artist. A few years later, I went to college for Interior Design, where I thrived in the creative courses—drawing, color theory, design. But working in the industry turned out to be 5% creativity, 95% putting out fires. Eventually, I left to pursue makeup again, which led to weddings, then to esthetics, and finally to opening my own brick-and-mortar spa in Niagara which built along side my mother from 2012 - 2020.
There was a lot I loved about running my spa. I loved connecting with people. I loved being part of the community. I loved the creative pieces—designing the space, creating services, making people feel good.
But it was also incredibly hard. Managing staff, balancing expenses, handling constant challenges—it wore me down. And then came motherhood. And then the pandemic.
When the spa closed during lockdown, I asked my kids what they liked most about being home. They said, “Family dinners.” And I agreed. That moment made me realize how much I had been sacrificing, and how lost I felt in a business that no longer felt aligned.
From there, in an effort to save a dying business and find something more aligned, I transitioned into something new—The Spa Curator, a creative pivot where I designed at-home self-care kits and spa boxes to help people bring relaxation into their homes. It gained momentum and carried us for the next two years, but over time, it too began to feel heavier, harder, and less aligned with where I truly wanted to go.
PRAYING... AND NOT LISTENING
Throughout all of this, but especially (of course) as things got harder, I prayed. Constantly. I prayed for clarity, for direction, for something that would make sense.
And honestly? I ignored what I was being shown.
Do you ever pray for something—truly ask for guidance—and then skip over the parts that don’t fit your vision? That was me. I asked for answers, but resisted the ones that didn’t line up with what I thought my path should look like.
By 2022, I felt God telling me clearly to walk away from the business I was clinging to. But I pushed back. I had so much inventory. I had already invested so much. I couldn’t just let it go.
Around the same time, I also started selling on Amazon, thinking that would be the answer. I could let the other go once I found something else that worked. At first, it felt like a refreshing change—something totally different, with no need to rely on my own ideas or creativity. In some ways, it was a welcome mental break. But over time, it became clear that it wasn’t a long-term solution. It was expensive, inventory management was exhausting, and most of all—it was completely devoid of the creativity I thrive on. It was “working,” but it wasn’t fulfilling.
Until the message came again at the end of 2024—louder, firmer: Let go. Sell what you have. Give it away if you need to. Just stop.
So I finally did.
I was still selling on Amazon, which was going to be my focus, and while it wasn’t a huge income, it was something. But it was also unpredictable. Expensive to maintain. Still, it felt like the only thing keeping me afloat.
THE BREAKING POINT - LITERALLY
I was away for a weekend and missed the last step in our hotel room. Just like that, I fractured my right ankle and became completely immobile. No driving. No cooking. Nothing. I was stuck at home during one of the coldest winters in years.
It was the kind of stillness you don’t choose—but sometimes desperately need.
The Amazon business? Done. I couldn’t cross the border to get inventory. Everything stopped and there was nothing I could do about it.
At first, I spiraled. Another business gone. Another thing slipping away. Another failure.
But sometimes, God pushes you to the edge, not to punish you, but to finally get your attention.
LETTING ART BACK IN
Before my injury, I had slowly started reconnecting with art. My son was taking art classes, and then I joined my own art class and began painting at home.
After I broke my ankle, stuck on the couch with nothing but time and thoughts—I kept painting. I painted a small elephant for a friend’s birthday, and it lit something up in me, it brought me joy during a hard time.
Before I broke my ankle, I had planned to host a paint party for my son’s birthday. Spoiler alert: pulling that off with a cast and crutches isn’t exactly easy—but I’m not one to turn down a challenge. So, propped up and determined, I made it happen anyway.
The party was a huge success. The kids had fun, the paintings turned out beautifully, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement.
One of the moms said, “Clearly, this is something you do for a living.” I laughed. But the comment stuck with me.
At a time when I couldn’t do much else, I let art consume my life—and I loved it. I even brought to life a long-imagined portrait of my dad riding his old horse through the Rockies, and for the first time in a long time, I felt lit up by something real.
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THE SILENT REALIZATION - AND THEN SAYING IT OUT LOUD
At first, it was just an idea. Maybe this could actually be something more?
Now, to be fair, this kind of thinking isn’t new for me. There’s a long-standing joke that I could see a rock and decide to open a rock factory. My brain is always spinning with new business ideas, possibilities, and creative detours.
But something about this one felt different. I kept thinking about it. Praying about it. Asking for clarity. I told myself I wouldn’t rush—I’d keep brainstorming, keep mapping out the “what” and the “how,” and wait to see if it stuck.
I did all of this in silence because...
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I was afraid of what people would say.
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I was afraid that once I said it out loud, it would become real—and that meant there was a real chance it could fail. Again.
Now. I know, that failure isn’t really failure unless you stop trying. But let’s be honest—what we know and what we feel don’t always line up.
So I kept it all inside while I worked it out. I do love a good brainstorm, after all. And when I finally felt like the idea had weight, I told one person: my husband.
And just like that—he said, “That’s a great idea. Do it. Just don’t spend too much money... and don’t get in your own way. Just start.”
So that’s what I’m doing.
Here it is—I'm saying it out loud:
I’m going to teach art.
I am an artist.
(And maybe… you are too.)
Hello ArtGrow. Creative.
MY VISION FOR ARTGROW. CREATIVE
ArtGrow Creative was born from a simple truth I finally stopped running from: art is what I’ve always loved—and it’s what I was meant to do.
But this isn’t just about me. This is about creating opportunities for others to reconnect with themselves through art.
My vision is to make art feel possible, approachable, and joyful.
Whether it’s a senior rediscovering their voice, a child beaming with pride at their creation, or a group of women laughing their way through a paint night—I want to help people experience the joy that comes from simply making art.
I bring the art to where people are—physically and emotionally.
I offer mobile and flexible programs in retirement homes, schools, libraries, homes, community centers, coffee shops, and beyond. I teach in a way that’s relaxed, encouraging, and rooted in human connection—not credentials.
This isn’t about creating “perfect” work. It’s about showing up for yourself, experimenting, expressing, and discovering something new in the process.
Because everyone can be creative.
Everyone deserves to express themselves.
And everyone should be creating art.
ArtGrow. Creative is here to help people grow—not just in skill, but in confidence, community, and self-trust.
This is what I’m here to do.
And if it resonates with you, you’re invited to be a part of it.
I hope to paint with you soon!
Susan