Saying Yes to Making (and Sharing) More

In 2025, I said yes to making and sharing fiber art more. That yes looked like processing raw wool, hand-felting, slow hand-stitched embroidery, and a willingness to stay with materials long enough for them to teach me something. I made a lot. I learned a lot. And I let the work be imperfect, exploratory, and alive.

That creative commitment was supported by another, quieter yes: daily routines. Walks with my dog Roux while listening to podcasts and audiobooks. Stretching, somatic movement, and restorative Yoga. Gardening. Weekly talk therapy. Actively learning to recognize and soften my inner critic. Lots of tea. No alcohol…aside from a few celebratory moments. These habits radically improved my mental and physical health, and they are a big part of why I was able to show up consistently for my studio practice at all. Creativity didn’t arrive fully formed; it arrived because I made space for it.

I also recommitted to seeking out and applying for grants and art opportunities, even when the process felt tiring or vulnerable. I leaned into creating a dedicated home studio space and protected my creative time, treating my practice less like something squeezed in around the edges and more like something worthy of structure and care.

At the same time, my teaching work continued to evolve into what I now understand as my social practice. In 2025 I added felting workshops for adults to my educational offerings, a new Youtube channel and am excited to continue those. The twenty art and Yoga classes I lead each week are not only my primary source of income, but an ongoing source of creative nourishment. Teaching sharpened my listening skills, deepened my relationship to process, and reminded me daily that creativity is relational. Making and teaching now feed each other in ways I could not have planned.

Where the Work Traveled

In 2025, I shared my work in many ways and places:

• Exhibitions with Electra Gallery (Miracula), Las Damas (Inside the Artists’ Studios), Hecho a Mano (Regalos), Dream Stitch Project (Dream Map), and Surface Design Association (Textiles for the End of the World)
• Showed and sold work through shops in New Mexico including Eight Million Gods, Soap and Supply, Little Bites Art, Electra Gallery, and Historic Santa Fe Foundation
• Popped up with Mottainai Santa Fe markets
• Participated in Española Valley Fiber Arts Center’s Fall Fiber Fiesta, my first juried fiber art and three-day show
• Accepted to the New Mexico Museum of Art’s Vladem Contemporary Window Box Project for “Gathered & Felt,” a fiber art, found object, and video installation currently in progress and on view winter 2026–27
• Invited to participate in a fiber art exhibition and lead a felting workshop at El Zaguan on Canyon Road in Santa Fe, in May 2026
• Led three felting workshops, with six more planned for 2026!
• Accepted to the Las Damas and OmniHum exhibition Existential Works From New Mexico’s Female Artists, opening January 2026

None of this happened all at once. It came from steady, unglamorous consistency, from applying even when I felt unsure, and from letting small opportunities build into larger ones over time.

Holding the Hard Alongside the Art

These meaningful experiences were intertwined with the difficult moments of the year. Grief, fear, and uncertainty over health-related concerns were prevalent in 2025. I am thankful for those who listened, showed kindness, and offered patience. Their support helped me keep moving forward, even when progress felt slow.

Takeaways for Fellow Artists

If there’s anything I learned this year that feels worth sharing, it’s this:

• Your routines matter as much as your ideas
• Care for your body and nervous system is not separate from your creative work
• Teaching, service, or “day jobs” can be generative
• Applying repeatedly is part of the work, rejections are not a sign you’re doing something wrong
• Momentum is built through repetition, not always through sudden breakthroughs
• You are allowed to make work while carrying grief, illness, or uncertainty

As we move into a new year, my hope is that this reflection offers permission rather than pressure. Permission to go slower. Permission to be consistent instead of impressive. Permission to make work that grows quietly, supported by care, community, and curiosity.

Here’s to continuing, together.