LETTING GO OF ENCAUSTIC: MAKING SPACE FOR FLOW

When I first discovered encaustic painting, I fell completely in love. There was something mesmerizing about the molten wax, the way it held colour and light, how it could shift from fluid to solid and the sheer physicality of working with it. I became obsessed with exploring it, layering, fusing, scraping, and watching how materials interacted. For a long time, it felt like and endless playground of possibilities.

But eventually, I reached a point where I realized I had extracted everything I need from that medium. The excitement began to fade, replaced by small hesitations; the fumes from propane torch, the fumes from shellac, the waiting for the wax to heat up before I could even begin. The rhythm of encaustic demanded full commitment: once the wax was molten, I had to be there, fully immersed, without interruption.

In the beginning, I loved that intensity, that feeling of disappearing into the work, of time dissolving. But as life shifted, I started craving more flexibility and spontaneity. The structure that once supported my creativity began to feel like a cage.

Now, I see that my creative process mirrors how I move through life. I thrive when I can flow in and out, when I have the freedom to pause, gather my thoughts, and return when inspiration strikes. I don't like the pressure of commitment. I prefer the dance of spontaneity, where I can respond in the moment to what calls me.

So, I've decided to let encaustic rest. I have a beautiful collection of pieces from that chapter, a body of work that feels complete. It represents a period of deep exploration and discovery. But now, I am ready to move into a new relationship with my materials, one that invites flexibility, curiosity and freedom to step in and out of creation with ease.

IT FEELS LIKE COMING BACK TO FLOW.