It’s been a while since I’ve written here.
I’ve started and stopped more posts than I can count... drafts full of splattered thoughts, half-rendered ideas and too many feelings. None of my posts felt finished. But maybe they don’t need to be? Maybe this is the kind of writing that calls for honesty, not polish.
I’m at a crossroads.
I’ve felt its arrival for a while now... seen the signs... travelled closer with each passing month. I’m now standing at the intersection, imagining a wooden signpost with multiple markers pointing in every direction: Painting. Writing. Illustration. Small works. Licensing... Do Nothing.
That last one... DO NOTHING... fills me with dread.
I’ve spent so many years tenaciously building my small art business. Busy, busy, busy. Building something meaningful from my own passion and persistence. I’ve finally reached a place where I earn a small and (mostly) regular income doing what I love.
But I’m tired.
Really tired.
For decades I’ve juggled the roles of mother, supportive wife, daughter and creative business owner. I’ve done it all... sometimes gently, sometimes with white-knuckled desperation... and now, as the rhythm of daily life shifts, I find myself unsure of who I am and who I want to be.
Reflection - oil on canvas - 76x100cm (Private artist collection - Prints Available)
Just a week ago, we became empty nesters. Our youngest daughter, with our utmost blessing and love, moved out. She’s bought her own place with her lovely partner and has begun making a home of her own. Our eldest moved out a few years ago and has a beautiful, welcoming home not far from us. I’ve felt all the emotions in recent months, knowing this time was coming. Deep nostalgia and disbelief this chapter of frontline parenting is closing. The house, once full of noise... of comings and goings and laughter and mess and teenage chaos... is now... still.
Where did the time go?
There’s a part of me that’s accepted this end of an era. Another part of me is emerging... cautiously curious about what comes next. Logically, I know that this is just the closure of one life chapter and the gentle beginning of another. But it’s hard.
We now have two empty rooms... one bedroom and a neglected sitting room that once was a bedroom when we were a household of more. I feel a big house rearrange coming on. I’ve been decluttering, lightening the load of a house that once held four and now holds two... and a half. Our beloved dog... she’s not going anywhere, just yet.
At the same time as doing less for my children, I’m caring more and more for my elderly mum. It’s a new chapter in itself and one I wasn’t fully prepared for. The dynamic between mother and daughter has changed. Some days it’s manageable. Some days it’s hard... and to be honest, some days it just feels like too much.
And you can probably guess, with all these big emotions on a rollercoaster of highs and lows... not much art is getting made.
As a professional artist with more than 15 years of daily practice behind me, I know how to meet deadlines. I’ve met them all year. I’ve finished and sent off everything for two art fairs so far this year, and with one still to come, that work is also complete. The logistics of my art business always get done. It’s my job. But the joy—the dreaming and play that usually comes after a body of work is finished, varnished, framed and delivered—feels far away right now. When it comes to completing something new, from my heart, with energy, imagination and creativity... well, I feel nothing. The easel is empty.
Social media isn’t helpful to my current state of empty. I’m so tired of the pressure to perform as a ‘content creator’... of feeding the hungry beast of the algorithm... of thinking each day about how to stay visible. I’m frustrated with how I find myself mindlessly scrolling and allowing doubt, insecurity and boredom to infiltrate my day. My painting practice used to be a meditation, a retreat, a return to self. Now it feels tangled in timing and trends and trying to be all the things... talented, articulate, prolific and inspiring. Posts with no grammatical errors and awe-inspiring, fully finished work... and yes, remember to photograph each artwork with natural light and a little dance.
It’s mentally cluttering. Exhausting.
I want to slow down. To hop off this relentless numbing treadmill.
Friends are retiring from their ‘real jobs’ and I catch myself wondering what that looks like for someone like me... an artist, self-employed, driven by both passion and profit. Is there such a thing as retirement for career artists? Is there ever a pause? Or do we just shift gears?
I know 100% I don’t want to quit making art.
I’m just feeling a little sad.
It’s confronting to feel the urge to step back from a business I’ve worked So Darn Hard to build. Sad to imagine losing momentum or being forgotten.
I do, however, know this... forcing myself to create from a place of depletion won’t lead me anywhere good.
So here I am. Standing at the crossroads.
I don’t know exactly where I’m going, but I’m giving myself permission to rest... to do less. Not to quit. Just to pause. To breathe. To make room for more joy. More meaning. To tidy the house. To walk the dog. To take care of my mum. To sit in the quiet of a two-person home that was a four-person home... and listen for what might want to arrive next.
I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this... my art matters. Not for the algorithm, or the sales, or the accolades. It matters for me.
I also know... I’d rather place my work gently here in my newsletter, like a letter in the hands of a friend... work that I’ve shared mindfully, now and then, not too often, with those who’ve chosen to read. Not flung daily into the noisy tide of Instagram or Facebook, where even those who care often never see it. Believe me, I’m still there... on Instagram, caught in the social media tangle like so many of us are... but I’m learning to loosen the threads that hold us. The digital world is a strange one... loud, fast, and so hollow. This space feels quieter. Truer.
If you’re not already subscribed to my newsletter, I would love to welcome you here more often... it’s the best place to hear about new work, upcoming exhibitions, behind-the-scenes musings (such as this one) and what’s blossoming next. Then there’s Instagram and Facebook.
While I’m moving through this reflective season, know that I am still very much running my art business—just at a gentler pace, giving myself space to reconnect with joy and consider where to put my energy next.
My print shop is thriving and I have a beautiful selection of original works available online and through my (very patient) gallery partners. If you’d like to explore what’s currently available, you can visit mialaing.au.
So that’s it... maybe, just maybe, in the next day or two, when I pick up a brush and squeeze paint on my palette, I will paint because I want to. For me.
Maybe that’s the new beginning.
Thank you for being here... for walking alongside me in all of life’s seasons.
Instagram: @mialaing_artist
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