I used my pencils and drew this for a birthday card and now don't know if I should spray it with hairspray or toss some colored pencil on it or ... something. . . I don't have the "workable fixative" and I'm not in the habit of doing this...any suggestions are welcome.

One of the biggest differences between creating beautiful work and creating effective work is understanding where the viewer looks first. Our eyes don’t absorb everything at once. They naturally follow a path~ As artists and designers, we can influence that journey. Visual hierarchy is the intentional use of size, color, contrast, spacing, shapes, and placement to guide the viewer through your work in the order you want it to be experienced. Think about what happens when someone opens a webpage, looks at a poster, or glances at a painting. What do they notice first? What keeps their attention? Where do they look next? Without hierarchy, the eye wanders. With hierarchy, the eye flows~ This is where color psychology and shape psychology begin working together. A bright accent color naturally pulls attention. A dark value against a light background creates contrast. Circles tend to draw the eye inward and create unity. Squares and rectangles communicate stability and structure. Triangles, diagonals, and arrows create movement and direction. White space gives everything room to breathe. None of these principles exist in isolation. They’re all working together to create a visual conversation between your work and your viewer. Whether you’re painting, designing a logo, building a website, or creating social media graphics, you’re constantly answering one simple question: “Where do I want someone to look first?” If you can answer that intentionally, you’ve already begun creating visual hierarchy. Because good design doesn’t just capture attention~ it guides it~!

wowee!! The update looks amazing! ACI IS ON FIRE!🔥

One week of intentional practice with new tools and materials can change a lot. This past week I spent 1 hour a day really learning my new paper, brushes, and water ratios instead of rushing to make finished work. Just slowing down and experimenting, researching, and playing~ seeing how much water the paper can actually hold, how pigment disperses, when ink blooms beautifully versus when it muddies, how different brushes carry and release paint. This kind of practice is IMPORTANT~! We NEED this to further ourselves. We can't expect to get better on a whim and some sheer luck. A week of focused experimentation builds familiarity. Familiarity builds confidence. Confidence builds fluency. Suddenly your hand hesitates less because you understand your materials instead of fighting them. I think a lot of artists feel pressure to constantly produce finished pieces, but growth happens in the quieter moments more often than not~ the testing, the failed marks, the weird little experiments, the “what happens if I try this?” sessions. Practice is not wasted time. Learning your tools is part of the art itself. What would it look like for you if you spent even 20 minutes a day learning your tools, materials, process, or craft a little more~? (Here are my 6 days... I somehow didn't take a pic of some of the things I added~ last one was from tonight where I started playing with ideas for how this can be applied to designs and patterns~ slightly blame @Jen Ritchie for that 🤣🫶🏻)

One of the things people don't often see is how much of an artist's life is spent in studies. Not the finished paintings hanging on a wall~ or polished images that make it to social media. And definitely not the pieces that find homes with collectors usually~ Studies. Tonight's table is covered in blossoms, branches, leaves, grasses, and little experiments. Some worked. Some didn't. A few taught me exactly what I needed to learn. Others taught me what not to do next time. That's the nature of practice. I think we sometimes forget that mastery isn't built through grand moments of inspiration. It's built through repetition. Through painting the same flower twenty times. Through learning how a brush holds water. Through understanding why one line feels alive and another feels stiff. Through hundreds of small decisions that nobody else will ever notice. Basically~ Practice~ I've spent years creating finished work, but lately I've found myself appreciating these quieter~ lighter~ calmer~ moments more. There is something deeply satisfying about sitting down with a brush and simply studying. No deadline. No expectation. Just curiosity. What happens if this branch bends a little further? What if that blossom opens a little more? What if I try it again? The funny thing is that these small exercises rarely stay small. Every finished painting, every series, every collection begins somewhere on a cluttered table like this. A few brushstrokes. A discarded sketch. A study that unexpectedly becomes something more. (And end up on a cluttered table of paintings too 🤭, but don't worry~ they all will be used for something else...) But tonight isn't about finishing anything. It's about learning. And I think there is a certain peace in that. Sometimes progress looks less like crossing a finish line~ and more like a table covered in possibilities, chances, moments, and potential~