Reflecting on this experience, I wanted to share some observations.

If you haven’t seen the reel yet, it’s here:

There is no magic formula.

One of the first questions my friends asked me was, “What was your secret?” My secret is there is none. The video I posted had no trending music, did not show my face, wasn’t dramatic or funny, and didn’t have any editing aside from adding captions. Granted, the puzzle itself was visually appealing, and it probably helped build suspense (unintentionally) that I struggled with putting in the final piece with one hand, but aside from that, there wasn’t anything outstanding.

People engage for various reasons.

What I did learn from the comments – especially as more people responded – was that there was a social media cultural backstory that I hadn’t been aware of when I posted. Apparently a couple years ago, during the pandemic, there had been a trend where people (mostly women) would be just about to complete their puzzle when someone (usually their male partners, sometimes cats) would push the puzzle onto the ground, shattering it. Some people watched my video anticipating the same thing to happen. Others watched because they either loved or hated puzzles.

The emotional high is short lived.

The first day when things were picking up speed, it was thrilling to watch the numbers climb. But by the third day around the 6 million mark, I noticed I wasn’t so excited any more. In fact, part of me was waiting for the wave to end and life to go back to normal. As the views on TikTok and Facebook stalled, I found myself waiting for Instagram to subside as well (which it didn’t for a couple more days). Paradoxically, I also kept looking to see if it would hit the next milestone number. One would think that the higher the number, the more exciting it is, but that wasn’t the case.

Comments are reflections of the viewers, not me.

There’s a saying, “Don’t read the comments section.” So of course I read the comments section. Thankfully, most of the comments showed common courtesy and only a handful were mean. Some people had questions as to my strategy and how long it took. Many of the responses ranged from “I need this puzzle” to “Nope, not for me.” And two prevailing responses were “Make it permanent!” or “Destroy it!” When I found myself bothered by people inferring that I was “mindless,” “psychotic,” or “masochistic,” for attempting a difficult puzzle, I realized that the comments were really a reflection of the other person’s ignorance or lack of curiosity, not a reflection of me.

I’m glad I posted a wholesome narrative.

After learning about the past trend of people’s puzzles getting destroyed, I felt very glad that I posted an actual puzzle completion. As much as the shock factor can get eyeballs on content, meanness is not something I can ever get behind. Reading many comments about people feeling traumatized by past videos and feeling anxious watching mine, I am grateful that the story I told was one of wholeness. I had no idea who was going to see my video when I posted it or what effect it would have on them. It affirmed for me the importance of posting content in line with my values. I hope that at least for some people, my video was a little piece of redemption and a counter-cultural pinprick of light.

Going viral is ridiculously distracting.

I posted to Instagram on Tuesday evening, not thinking much of it, and was surprised to see nearly 20,000 views the next morning. Wednesday and Thursday were spent frequently refreshing the stats because watching the numbers climb was honestly really fun. It took a lot of discipline not to obsessively check past bedtime (thankfully, we keep our phones in the kitchen to charge at night). Still, being on my screen all day long affected my ability to sleep. Trying to work or be present to my family was hard. It pulled me away from my immediate in-person life and took up hours that I could have used for more meaningful things (like doing more puzzles! Just kidding… Sort of…). Part of me knew that an online video is pretty frivolous, but another part of me wanted the dopamine hits.

It matters and it doesn’t.

Speaking of frivolity, one commenter made the observation that puzzles are a problem first world people create for themselves. I think there’s an element of truth to that but it’s not the whole story. For me, puzzles are a way for me to calm my brain down because it’s usually on overdrive. Having a video about puzzles go viral isn’t world-changing and doesn’t matter in the same way that something hefty, like human rights or global issues does. As I write this, a collective 4 years and 238 days of people’s time on Instagram alone has been spent watching me put a shiny piece of plastic into a hole. And yet, several million little points of connection between humans can’t be dismissed as nothing either.

Capitalism is ingrained in us.

Having a video about someone else’s product get so much attention definitely surfaced some pangs of envy. “If only it was my art that went viral!” I found myself saying. And, “If only I got paid for these views!” But as I thought about it, I realized that was capitalism’s influence; not everything has to be about maximizing profits. An alternative is what I call an economy of grace – one that operates out of an abundance mentality instead of scarcity. If I believe that God takes care of all my needs (and that has been true so far in my life), what does it matter if I shine a spotlight on someone else’s work for a week? In actuality, I did nothing to get views, I didn’t “deserve” any compensation. With this perspective, I didn’t have to feel resentful. There is enough grace for everyone, including me.

Maybe it was divine mischief.

The final thing I’ve taken away from this experience is probably the most profound and might be the point of this whole experience for me. At the start of this year, I decided that VOICE would be my word of the year. I chose this word with the intention of exploring, owning, and expressing my artistic voice as well as other aspects of myself. It felt like wink from heaven that my literal voice has now been heard by millions of people. (“You want your voice to be heard? OK, let’s do it!”) I suppose this is a classic case of be careful what you ask for. In any case, my voice is out there now and there’s no going back.

Conclusion

Going viral may be something people strive for because it seems exciting and life-changing – I know in the past I had hoped it would happen to me. But having experienced it, I wouldn’t really ask for it again. While it’s been fun especially for my husband to analyze the stats (watch his video analysis here), it has consumed more of our time and attention than we care to admit.

After this has blown over, my life will go on as usual. I have been promised some puzzles as a thank you from the puzzle company who got a ton of free advertising because of me. But our finances won’t have changed. Sadly. (Even my kids were like, “If you got one cent for every view…!). I will have gained some new followers on Instagram and Facebook, but who knows how many will stick around and whether they will even see my future posts, let alone consider buying my art. And yet, I still want to believe that for a brief 30-ish seconds, my reel brought wonder and goodness to each person watching. So maybe it was worth it?

The post What It’s Like to Go Viral appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Welcome to 2025, my friends! We are finally able to use my calendars! A special welcome to those of you who are joining for the first time – I really hope that you enjoy reading the stories behind each month’s painting and that you find something encouraging and/or relatable in each one.

It only seemed appropriate to begin a new year by featuring a piece about a sunrise. “As Sure As the Dawn” is a triptych (fancy word for a three-part painting) that a friend of mine had commissioned me to do in 2022. She had recently moved homes and wanted a piece for the wall by her piano. She had seen some previous triptychs of mine and knew that she wanted one.

For the subject of the painting, we combined a photo my client had taken on a personally significant trip in Sedona, Arizona with a beautiful sunrise sky, to represent the start of a new chapter in her life. We also worked together to determine the composition. I thought it was important for each panel of the triptych to have a focal element so I emphasized the rock formation on the left panel, a path in the center panel, and the sun rising on the right panel.

I titled it, “As Sure As the Dawn” inspired by the Bible verse that says, “Oh, that we might know the LORD! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring” (Hosea 6:3). My hope was that this painting could be a reminder of how God faithfully shows up when we open ourselves.

As we enter this new year, my wish for all of us is that we begin with hope. May we stay watchful for all the ways that goodness, love, and beauty show up, even in the darkness of winter.

For those with the Scripture calendar:
The verse for this month is the one this painting’s title is based on. “Let’s press on to know the Lord. His appearance is as sure as the dawn” (Hosea 6:3). As we begin a new year, I see this as an invitation – to continue to lean into pursuing and knowing the One who created and sustains us. In the coming week, Tim and I will be doing our yearly planning day and these words help me remember the greater vision even as we plan and discuss the daily matters in our lives. I also hold on to the promise in this verse, that when we seek God, God will come to us. 

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: What, if anything, is “dawning” in your life at this time? What are you hopeful for at the start of this year? Notice the rocks in the painting, what or who in your life is constant and steadfast like the rocks?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! Throughout 2025, we will be hearing the stories behind each month’s painting in my art calendar. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: January 2025 – “As Sure As the Dawn” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Hello friends, we have made it to the end of another calendar year! Despite the frenetic pace that December tends to bring, I find that it also invites us to reflect on the past year. We look back and see all the good that has happened, as well as the difficult or stressful.

To close off this year of stories about my life through art, I wanted to share with you a piece I drew in 2018. There are actually in existence two of the same drawings. The first was a gift for my spiritual director. (If you’re unfamiliar with spiritual direction, it’s a Christian practice of companionship where one person “directs” the other’s attention to where the divine might be at work in their lives. Similar to counselling but with an emphasis on journeying together rather than trying to address any issues.) My spiritual director has accompanied me through adjusting to life in BC, new marriage, burnout, depression, the births of both of my children, and the start of all our businesses. I originally created this drawing for her birthday as a visual expression of how I experience her prayers for me. She is one of the key people who have held me when I was struggling the most.

The second drawing currently hangs in the foyer at our church, the Tapestry Mundy Park. Our pastor loved my first drawing when I showed it to him and asked me if I could create another one for our church. I appreciate that our faith community celebrates the arts and I was honoured to hang this one up for anyone passing by to reflect on.

To create this piece, I used pencil crayon on black paper. I looked up a couple reference images online to make sure I got the hands and bird correct. Hands are notoriously difficult to draw and I was quite pleased with how these turned out.

The drawing is inspired by a poem I read:

“She prayed as she breathed,
forming no words and making no specific requests,
only holding in her heart like broken birds in cupped hands,
all those people who were in stress or grief.”
– Ellis Peters, adapted

For me personally, this image grounds and calms me and brings me comfort. If I imagine myself as the bird, I feel safe and secure. And when I think of holding all the heartache that swirls within me like that broken bird, I feel compassion and relief that I don’t have to articulate it all into words in order to pray.

As we end off the year, I wanted to bless you with this image. Whatever you have experienced this year, however your heart is, may you know that you are held, like a little bird gently cupped in loving hands – by Divine Love and in my heart.

Thanks for journeying with me this year. See you in the new year, friends!

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: What in your life does the bird represent? What or who do the hands represent? How can you hold this past year gently like these hands hold the bird?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! Next year, we will be hearing the stories behind each month’s painting in my art calendar. I will be posting them the first day of each month beginning in January 2025. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: December 2024 – “How I Pray These Days” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Hello friends, here we are in November! It’s amazing to think that there are only two months of 2024 left. This month’s story happened around this time four years ago and is about the power of beauty to bring light in dark times. I hope it encourages you!

Way back at the beginning of 2020, when “pandemic” was only the name of a board game to me, I decided to try making a career of my art (I write more about it here). Very quickly, I encountered the dilemma of what to do with leftover paint after a day’s work. Since I use acrylic paints, once they dry, they basically harden into plastic and I can’t use them anymore. Some artists use a special type of palette that has a cover to keep their paints workable for longer. But because I don’t usually have much paint left over, it didn’t seem worth it to try to keep those bits.

Still, I didn’t like wasting paint.

So I took scraps of paper and got some mini 2-inch canvases and started painting very small scenes to use up my paint. It was great – the paintings were cute and I was starting to amass a growing collection of them. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with them, but I kept making them.

Then the world shifted seemingly overnight and we entered a season of sheltering in place, Zoom everything, and trying our best to cope with all the changes and information coming at us. In October that year, I found myself feeling unwell and needing to get tested for Covid. This was well before home testing kits were available so I looked up the nearest clinic to me. After I booked my appointment, I learned that the clinic would be closing due to burned out staff. That clinic had converted into a testing site while the local health authority was setting theirs up and now their staff were too exhausted to continue. I would be one of the last patients there.

Suddenly, I knew what all those tiny paintings were for. I would bring them to the clinic with me and give them to the staff as small gifts of appreciation. These folks needed to know they were appreciated.

When I got home that day, I still had some paintings left over, so I posted them on my social media and asked if anyone wanted to nominate someone to receive one. It could be front-line workers or anyone who was lonely in isolation. In a time when we weren’t allowed to be close to anyone outside our “bubbles,” these would be “art hugs.”

The idea was really well received and I thought that maybe other artists would want to do this too. I posted another batch of tiny paintings and put out an open invitation for others to join. I called it “Little Arts of Kindness” – playing off of random acts of kindness – and I made it into a hashtag so that people could search the term and see who else was participating. I contacted the local newspaper and amazingly, they published a piece about it. (Read more details about the #littleartsofkindness movement here.)

Ultimately, artists from around BC, Alberta, Quebec, Ontario and Nova Scotia committed to participate and it went as far as Michigan and California in the United States. In a time when we all felt helpless, this was one tangible way for people to reach out and connect – to offer some light.

For me personally, it was satisfying to know that I did something with what I had to make a difference in the world. I sent out probably 20-25 little arts and was commissioned to create a set of another 25 for some teachers. I only heard back directly from one recipient and I saw one other person post about it publicly on Facebook, saying that it really touched them to know that someone out there cared, especially after navigating a harrowing outbreak at their hospital. The rest of them, I can only hope that they were encouraged.

These little arts became the inspiration for my 40th birthday project where I painted 40 small paintings for people who had played a significant role in my life. And eventually, it spun into the 100 Tiny Expanses, which I painted for my first solo exhibition in April 2023.

I still paint tiny pieces with scraps and leftover paint these days. And I still give them out as small reminders to “Keep looking up.” Only it’s less systematic and just whenever I feel like it.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: Who in your life could use a little encouragement today? What can you do to reach out? What “scraps” in your life (time, materials, resources) could be repurposed to share love in the world?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month – this will be changing in January 2025 when I will post on the first day of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: November 2024 – “#LittleArtsofKindness” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

It’s October! This month is special in our family because it includes our wedding anniversary (which happens to be today!). So, for this month’s story, it is only appropriate for me to shine the spotlight on my number one fan and partner in creativity and general shenanigans: Tim!

Tim and I met on a Christian mission trip to Japan in 2003. One of the first gifts I received from him was at the end of our six-week trip. It was a hand-drawn book of cartoons summarizing our team’s experiences packed with hilarious memories. I had to work so hard to suppress my laughter because he had conveniently given it to me and our teammates during what was supposed to be a serious meeting. Tim and I didn’t start dating until three years later but I noticed his creativity and thoughtfulness right from the get-go.

After that trip, I returned to Toronto and he went back to Vancouver. He knew I was looking for work that summer and he also knew I liked to paint, so he asked if he could commission me to create a painting for the apartment he shared with his siblings. He wanted a painting of mountains with the verse from Psalm 121:1-2, “I lift my eyes up to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.” I couldn’t believe that a guy I had just met would pay me to paint something for him. Little could I have known that that first commission would someday be hanging in my own house!

Over the course of our marriage, Tim has always supported my creative side. When the kids were little and I didn’t have much time or energy, he encouraged me to do small watercolours and later, acrylic paintings. When we started our blog over at timandolive.com, he added an extra page to highlight my art and promote my commission services.

One day in 2016, when I was starting to take on more side projects for people, he looked at me and lamented about how all these nice pieces of artwork never stayed in our house. “Why can’t you paint something that I get to keep?” It hadn’t occurred to me that he would want my work in our house. So I went and bought a 2’x3′ canvas and decided to make a painting just for him. One that he could keep forever.

For his birthday in 2017, I gave him, “Oregon Coast,” a painting of the area of the world where we had spent our honeymoon. I wasn’t aware of photography copyrights back then so unfortunately, I don’t know whose photo I referenced for that painting. But I chose something that included our favourite elements of water, mountains, and a beautiful sunset. Over the years, that painting has been displayed in various locations in our home but during the pandemic, it was moved to our home office to become Tim’s background for all his zoom calls.

In 2020, when I told Tim I wanted to step back from doing marketing work after 7 years of building our company together so that I could start my own art business, he fully supported me. He made sure my time was protected and intentionally shifted the types of projects he took on so that I could be freed up. The fact that he stays curious about who I am and who I’m becoming is something I don’t take for granted. Living with an artist can be challenging and he is so patient with me. On more than one occasion, he has driven me around to chase sunsets and waited for me as I got “just one more” photo of the sky. 

Tim has taught me most of what I know about business and marketing. From strategies, to pricing, to how to actually use a spreadsheet, so much of what I know and do on the business front I owe to him. In recent years as I’ve offered calendars and cards, he has spent many an evening packing orders with me and running to the post office for me. I would not be doing what I do today were it not for Tim cheering me on and supporting me.

Today, October 11, 2024 is our 16th anniversary, so… Happy anniversary, Tim! Thank you for everything. You are my favourite.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: In what small and big ways have you been supported in your life? How is Love inviting you to live out who you are?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: October 2024 – “Oregon Coast” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Well friends, here we are in September. In our part of the world, summer has wrapped up, the kids are back at school, and the weather is turning cooler. This month, I will be sharing the story behind a painting that holds meaning for me because of the season of personal growth it represents. I hope you enjoy the read!

For many years, Tim and I have held the practice of choosing a word at the beginning of the new year; a word to ground us, guide us, and orient us. Instead of New Year’s resolutions, we have found that choosing a theme word is a gentler, more practical way to focus our attention and energy throughout the year. (You can read about our year of “Enough” in this blog post as an example.) In 2022, I chose the word, “Release.”

At that time, I was struggling with some health issues and learning about how our bodies store trauma. I knew that my body was tense and that the tension was contributing to my pain. “Release” was what I longed for. So I adopted it as my word for the year.

I painted this piece to remind me of my word, with the iconic red balloon floating away as an image to encourage me let go physically and metaphorically. That year, I enlisted the help of a counsellor trained in EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) to walk me through several traumatic memories. I no longer wanted to hold onto them. I also made a conscious effort to remember to pause throughout the day to take a slow, deep breath and relax the muscles throughout my body.

For most of my life, I have lived with anxiety and it not only affected me mentally, but physically as well. That year of “Release” was an important one as I learned to let go. It was a significant step in my healing and wholeness. Even though it’s been two years since then, I still tend toward worry and overthinking so I have left this painting up by my bedside to remind me to exhale and release my grip on things.

As we enter the Fall season, I don’t know what concerns might be weighing you down, but I hope this painting and my story can serve as an invitation for you to release those cares and rest for a bit, if even for a moment.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: What might the red balloon represent in your life right now? How tightly are you holding onto your “balloon”? What emotions surface when you see the red balloon floating away in the painting?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: September 2024 – “Release” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Hello friends, here we are in August. This month, I want to share with you a piece that is deeply personal to me and centers on some spiritual themes. I should also let you know that it touches on the topic of grief. I understand if you need to skip this one, but for those of you who stay to read it all, thank you for hearing my story. I am deeply honoured.

In March 2019, I attended a retreat at Carmel Hill, Little Flower Monastery. It was my first time participating in a three-day silent retreat as well as being at a Catholic monastery. My spiritual director (aka, friend and companion who month after month directs my attention to where God is present in my life) was part of leading the retreat and it wasn’t too far to get to, so I decided to try it out. I had invited some friends to join me and it was comforting to have their presence even though we spent most of the time in solitude and silence.

In the monastery, at the front of the chapel, was a box with a sculptural cover featuring five loaves and two fishes, along with five stalks of wheat. I later learned that this box was called an aumbry and that it contained specially reserved communion elements. During my time there, I kept coming back to the chapel and gazing at the box. The roughness of the cover and simplicity of the iconography touched me. It symbolized the sacred elements contained inside the box while representing the story of Jesus feeding 5,000 with a modest meal.

On a personal level, at the beginning of 2019, I had chosen the word Enough to focus on throughout the year. Sitting in that chapel and soaking in this unknown artist’s work, the word Enough resonated even deeper. This image and the story it recalled kept affirming to me that God could make what little I had enough. Unbeknownst to me, a week later, I would be by my dad’s deathbed and that word and image would sustain me through some of the hardest moments for the year ahead.

For over a year, I wanted to create my own rendition of that sculptural image. Then, in 2020, for my birthday, that’s what I did. I took a thrift store print that I never really liked and painted over top of it a version of this image for my room. It hangs by my bed as a visual reminder of God’s providence, not only in that really difficult year after my dad’s death (and subsequent pandemic), but also in my present life.

One of my deepest fears is that I don’t have or do enough; or that I am not enough. As an artist in this economy, I’m often visited by doubts of whether I’m good enough, if I’m hustling enough, or if I will be able to sell enough to provide for my family. The thoughts of “not enough”ness are pervasive. And perhaps they are exacerbated by our consumerist culture that benefits from our insecurities. But if I look at the message of Jesus and the life he lived, it tells me a different story: I am enough, there is enough, and God makes it enough. Always.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: What jumps out at you about this image? What is your heart’s response to the words, “You are enough”‘? In what areas of your life do you fear not enough-ness? How can you step into the truth that with God, it’s always enough?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me.

The post Every Painting Has a Story: August 2024 – “Enough” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

It’s summer in our part of the world and my kids are off school. July is often the month when our family has taken trips so I thought that for the story this month, I would invite you into some memories via some of the art I have brought back from our travels. If you love the ocean, you’ll enjoy the art in this post!

I moved to British Columbia in July 2008 not knowing much about this area of Canada other than the fact that it was near the Pacific Ocean. I didn’t know that just off the coast, there is a treasure trove of islands to explore – the largest and most famous being Vancouver Island. In February 2011, our church small group booked a retreat on Mayne Island, one of the islands in a group called the Southern Gulf Islands. One afternoon, our friends went oyster picking and came back with buckets of fresh oysters. The taste of those barbequed morsels will forever be etched in my memory – they were SO good!

At that retreat, I had been invited to conduct a Painting 101 session for people who were interested. Since I had my paints with me for that workshop, I decided to paint myself a little souvenir of the trip. This became the first of many painted rocks.

Several years later we took our first vacation as a family of four to another island, Pender Island. Since Tim and I are both drawn to the ocean, we tried to find rental homes that were on waterfront properties. We had access to a private beach for the week and found that the shells were plentiful there. So I painted shells to remember the trip by. I also painted an extra one to leave for our Airbnb hosts.

After that, each time we stayed by the beach, if I had my paints with me (which usually was the case), I would find some rocks or shells on which I could capture the local view by. One year, I found lots of mussel shells and was captivated by their iridescent inner lining. I thought it would be neat to try painting ocean waves against that background. On a couple trips, our parents joined us and I would paint them something to remember the trip by as well. Last year, our family stayed for a week on the coast in Washington and my kids found these large clam shells while beachcombing. I decided to paint a scene on the inside of one of those shells.

In every place we have stayed, I have left a little painted rock or shell as a thank you. I don’t know if other guests have found them, or if the hosts have kept them, but it’s a small way for me to show gratitude to the hospitality we have received.

When I look at our fireplace mantle where these rocks and shells are displayed in our home, I am reminded of the various trips, the beauty we enjoyed, and the particulars of those times and places. I remember how old my kids were at the time, the stages of development they were at, and the adventures we shared. These small pieces of art help me to remember the journey I have been on.

In a similar way, when I think about the pieces I have been commissioned to create, many of them are of places and moments that are significant to my clients. Art is a visual reminder to them of particular points in their journeys that they want to remember. As an artist, I am always humbled that people would invite me into their stories in such a meaningful way.

This summer, I’m taking a break from commissions but I do have a couple spots open for the fall. Maybe this post has jogged a memory for you of a place or a moment you’d like to be expressed in a painting. If so, please reach out. I would love to work with you to create something special.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: When you think back over your life, what are some places or moments that hold significance to you? How do you remember your journey by? Take a moment to sit with the length and breadth of your life journey, holding it with gentleness and gratitude.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me

The post Every Painting Has a Story: July 2024 – Vacation Mementos appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Hello friends, somehow we have made it halfway through the year! June is a relatively busy month in our household with school winding up and end-of-term activities happening. This month’s story is an invitation for us to pause and rest. I hope it meets you in your days, whatever they look like. [Note: I don’t typically talk much about my faith here, but this story is about part of my journey as a Christian.]

Fifteen years ago, I was newly married, freshly relocated to BC, and in the midst of burnout recovery. I had enrolled in a program called the Center for Spiritual Formation through Carey Theological College, a local theological school. I desperately hoped that spending a couple years tending to my spirit would help me find some solid footing.

One of the first exercises they asked us to do was to learn something called Centering Prayer. I had grown up knowing that prayer was talking to God. But this was the first time I was introduced to the idea that prayer could also include simply being with God – without telling or asking for anything. In Centering Prayer, we were invited to choose a phrase or an image to help “center” us; something we could return our attention to when other thoughts swirled about.

In one of my prayer times, I chose the verse from Psalm 46:10 to help me center. The verse said, “Be still and know that I am God.” As I held onto these words, the image of a rock in a stream came to mind. “Be still like this rock,” came the invitation. “Allow the water of My love wash over and surround you. Allow Me to do the moving. Let Me shape you. All you need to do is be.” I was so used to being active like the water, it was really a challenge to be still like the rock.

I loved that image so much that I decided to make a painting of it. (I looked up a photo online to work off of. Unfortunately, I don’t know who the original photographer was so I can’t credit them). I wanted a visual reminder to still myself and let God love me. My whole life I had been busy – both in my outer world and inside my brain – I wanted to learn how to be still. And this rock was a visual teacher to me.

I hung this painting in our bedroom next to our bed. It is one of the first things I see in the morning and one of the last things I see at night. I don’t practice Centering Prayer much these days but the painting reminds me of that season in my life when my faith was shaped in profound ways. It also continues to remind me that the invitation to stillness is always there.

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: Spend some time with this image of a rock in the stream. Which do you identify more with – the rock, or the water? Which parts of you are you being invited into stillness? If you live close to an actual stream with rocks in it, go out for a walk and sit for a while. Notice what you observe.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me

The post Every Painting Has a Story: June 2024 – “Stillness” appeared first on Olive Chan Art.

Hello friends! A couple of months ago, I introduced you to my dad and his important support for me as an artist. This month, it’s my mom’s turn. May is an appropriate month to shine a spotlight on my mom for two reasons: 1. Mother’s Day is in May, and 2. my birthday is also in May – and I wouldn’t be here without her! This month’s story will be about creative pursuits outside of painting but don’t worry, paintings will be back next month. I hope you enjoy this story!

Back in 2018, I picked up knitting again after learning how to as a child. I was inspired by all the pretty shawls I saw on Pinterest and decided to try it out. I also heard about prayer shawls and loved the idea of being able to pray for people through knitting; that prayers could be carried by each stitch.

I wanted to knit some shawls for my mom and mother-in-law. I had found a place online that sold reclaimed silk yarn and bought a couple skeins in two colours. My plan was that I would knit a silver shawl for my mother-in-law, a purple shawl for my own mom, and a third shawl with a mix of the remaining yarn for myself. (That third shawl is still sitting half-finished in a box under my desk.)

What I I didn’t know when I started my mom’s shawl was that I would be working on it during my emergency flight to Toronto when my dad was dying. Or that I would finish it in time to gift it to her on her first Mother’s Day as a widow during her visit to Vancouver. But that’s what ended up happening. I chose a pattern called, “Close to You,” which reflected my hope that every time my mom saw or wore the shawl, she would remember our relationship and know she wasn’t alone.

Many people have asked me where I get my “artistic genes” from. Both my parents are creative, but if I had to pick one parent, it would be my mom. Shortly after I was born, my mom quit her job at the bank to stay home and raise me. It didn’t mean she didn’t work though. Growing up, I watched her employ her wide range of skills to create goods for people. She made intricate multi-tiered wedding cakes with gorgeous piping and realistic gum paste flowers. She sewed curtains. She put together bountiful gift baskets tied with handmade ribbons. Being surrounded by her creativity nurtured my own.

Being my primary day-to-day caregiver, my mom was also my chauffeur; driving me to and from school nearly every day, all the way until high school. She was also the one who would go shopping for art supplies with me. Remember the garage door frogs that I shared about a couple months ago? Guess who brought me downtown to a specific paint shop so I could get a particular paint brush to do that project? That’s right, my mom.

My mom moved to Vancouver a few years ago to be closer to me and our family. Since her move, once a week, she picks up my kids from school, makes us dinner and stays to eat with us. She is often one of the first people who sees what I’m working on. Without her help, I wouldn’t be able to have a longer, uninterrupted chunk of time to focus on my art so regularly. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to build my art practice and business. Last Christmas, I gave my mom a very special painting for her place. I won’t write about it this month as I’m planning to include it in my 2025 calendar so I will share that story in the future! (How’s that for a teaser?)

To say I’m grateful for the support my mom has given me is a major understatement. I literally would not be here without her. Thanks, mom, for everything!

Questions for reflection, if you want to go deeper: Who in your life has supported or served you in small, daily ways? How can you show your appreciation to them this month?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read a monthly art story, remember to sign up so future posts get delivered to your email! I usually post them the second Friday of each month. (Add me to your contacts list or you might need to check your promotions or junk folders if you don’t see the email.)

As always, I love to hear from you! If something in this story resonated with you, if you’re interested in commissioning a painting, or if you have other thoughts, feel free to email, or connect with me

The post Every Painting Has a Story: May 2024 – The Time I Knitted a Shawl for My Mom appeared first on Olive Chan Art.