painting by numbers

Life wasn’t always so carefully planned. We used to let the world unfold around us and simply stumble upon things—the coolest, most unexpected things that surprised and excited us.

These days, it seems everything is curated and catalogued. We check reviews before stepping into a restaurant, research every road before we even pack, and ask for people’s Amazon gift lists so there’s no guesswork involved. Everything is pre-approved, pre-packaged, and pre-digested. We’re so conditioned to have answers at our fingertips that we’re forgetting about the pure joy in just ‘winging it’. In the process of preparing for every little bump, we’re forgetting how sweet it is to be able to detach from outcome and take a chance.

Sure, everyone loves a well-thought-out plan, but I think we’ve gone too far. The unplanned, unscripted moments ignite something within us—an energy, an aliveness that we just don’t get from perfectly planned days. When we know everything ahead of time and have a clear path laid out for us, it might feel comforting in the moment, but it’s like painting by numbers—there’s no space for the gloriously messy, the unexpected, and awesome happenstance—no space for our best, most radical new work ever.

When we take away the unknown we remove a vital part of the human experience. Embracing uncertainty builds coping skills, strengthens resilience, and, ironically, helps reduce anxiety. Yes, it’s true. We grow and evolve through experiencing the unexpected. Joy lives in that place. Knowing exactly what’s to come leaves no room for discovery. And I believe that constant need to control is making us feel less safe than ever. You can’t live fully and creatively without taking risks.

And this tidbit keeps coming to mind—we are the last generation to truly understand the power of surprise, the last to know what it was like before everything was online, and the only generation to fully understand both worlds—before and after the digital age. We are the last to know what it’s like to go into the world without a link to anyone, without a plan, head up and looking directly into the world, ready for anything.

Life isn't meant to be a rigid set of steps—it’s meant to surprise us, challenge us, and, most importantly, inspire us. So drop the plan and go for it, whatever it is. Your masterpiece won’t be found in someone else’s template.

Love,
Laura. xo

The Alchemy of Travel

Why do I host retreats? Why do I gather souls from different corners of the world and invite them to step away from the familiar and into the unknown? Well, it’s not just for the painting, the beautiful spaces or delicious meals, though those moments stay with us. It’s because travel—leaving what we know and stepping into something new—awakens us to our true selves.

Each retreat, no matter where, is a portal, a doorway to a place where creativity isn’t just something we think about or try to practice—it’s something we become. As I, along with Finisterra Travel, lead each group, I’m always struck by the transformation that happens when we step into these new worlds. The sense of wonder, the surprise, and the subtle unraveling of the everyday tightness. That’s when we begin to remember who we really are.

Travel isn't just about getting away. It’s not just a vacation. It’s a profound act of reconnecting. Our busy lives tend to make us forget the person we once knew—the curious one, the daring one, the one who sought out beauty in every corner. When we immerse ourselves in a new landscape, taste the food, smell the air, and hear a language we don’t understand, something magical happens: our brains wake up.

It's as if each new experience—navigating cobblestone streets, hearing the call of unfamiliar birds, getting lost in the rhythms of a foreign place—shakes us loose from the grooves we've settled into. Neuroscientists talk about neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to form new connections—and that's precisely what happens during travel. It’s like stretching your creative muscles, allowing them to bend and move in ways you didn't know they could.

But the real alchemy happens when we step beyond the role of the observer. Imagine sitting in a tiny, sun-dappled village, the air heavy with the scent of fresh herbs and wood-fired bread. Around you, the gentle hum of life goes on—the clink of glasses, the laughter of locals, and the distant toll of a church bell. Before you is a simple meal, but it’s more than just food. It’s a story—one of the land, the hands that prepared it, and the generations who have done so before. Each bite is an immersion into the culture, a celebration of flavours you didn’t know could exist. It’s not just the taste that moves you—it’s the way time seems to slow, the way the earth feels closer, and how, in that moment, you’re connected to something far greater than yourself. This is the kind of nourishment that feeds the soul, reminding us that creativity and life’s simplest pleasures are deeply intertwined.

Leading retreats, I have the privilege of witnessing transformations that unfold so naturally yet feel nothing short of magical. I watch as people arrive, sometimes weighed down by the demands of daily life, and then—almost imperceptibly at first—they begin to shift. Maybe it’s the way the Tuscan light falls in the evening, or the laughter shared over a meal prepared by hands that know the land. Maybe it’s a quiet moment in the Rocky Mountains, where the stillness speaks louder than words. But it happens, every time: that awakening, that reconnection with a part of themselves they had forgotten. It’s an absolute privilege to witness.

Then, there’s our studio time. The moment when each guest, carrying their own thoughts, emotions, and experiences, stands before that blank canvas. It’s no longer just about creating art—it’s a personal conversation between the soul and the colours waiting to emerge. I’ve seen it countless times: the initial hesitation, the quiet vulnerability, and then, as the brush moves, something shifts. It’s as if each stroke is unlocking a part of themselves, allowing emotions to flow freely in a way words often can't.

Travel didn’t just broaden my horizons—it changed the very course of my life. Sitting in the vivid shadows of the Olgas in 1996, in the red heart of Australia, surrounded by the vastness of the desert. The land felt ancient, alive with stories, and as I sat there, I was overcome by a profound sense of clarity. It was as if the world had paused for a moment, and in that stillness, I was struck by a divine understanding—that absolutely everything is possible. Anything. That moment opened me up to a new way of being. It wasn’t just the landscape that shifted—it was my entire sense of self. From that point on, I knew that the only limits in life were the ones I placed on myself, and I became more determined than ever to live fully, creatively, and without fear.

Each one of our retreats is a journey, not just through breathtaking landscapes, but through the inner terrain of who we are. And I’m deeply honoured to walk that path with every single one of our guests. It’s why I continue to do this work, why I believe so deeply in the power of travel to remind us that in discovering new places, we often rediscover ourselves.

Love,
Laura. xo

I’m not a writer. Scratch that.

I'm not a writer. Not a good one, at least. That’s been my belief and the story I tell myself.

I take a long time to do it. I second-guess and rewrite almost every line and I think about what I’ll write for days before I start. Real writers don’t do that, it’s easy for them. So I come up with excuses not to do it. And then sidestepping it gives me instant relief. So then sidestepping becomes a habit, and then I’m in full-blown procrastination mode.

Similarly, people come to our painting retreats and proclaim they are not creative. This is a story they tell themselves, and it’s simply not true.

I know what’s really at play here is fear. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of making a mistake. And the biggest one of all, fear of judgment (that one's a real buzzkill). So instead, we seek perfection – we either do it perfectly or not at all. Then of course, we don’t do it at all.

One of my all-time favourite quotes is, “If you aim at nothing, you’ll hit it every time.” So, as I set out on this retreat recipe book project, I made sure to create a timeline with deadlines brightly highlighted. This would help me stay on target, for sure. But as the weeks slipped by, I stopped progressing, excuses crept in, and deadlines got moved or misplaced altogether.

I let my inner critic have her way with me – she’s a powerful beast of a thing and fear is her favourite weapon. Not really realizing it, I became afraid of the bigness of it all... of not knowing what the heck I’m doing… of not meeting people's expectations or worse, not meeting mine. “Who am I to be writing a recipe book? I’m not a chef and I’m not a writer!”

Recognizing this old pattern of mine, a close friend suggested I take a week away to completely dedicate myself to the project. I could spend it at her beautiful Gulf Island home, where I’d be free from the day-to-day lists and convenient excuses, and could completely immerse myself in the process of writing. 

So, I did it. I packed up, left a list of all the things that needed tending and feeding, and headed to the island. I set up my computer on the dining table overlooking the ocean and lavender. Just me and the honey bees, working madly on our deadlines. It felt amazing. I got my head down and I WROTE. A lot. I told my inner critic to ‘bugger off – I was a writer and I had work to do’. I had the time and space to do it and my unique process was not her concern.

My breaks were forest walks and cold saltwater swims. We met up in the evening, prepared meals out of the recipe book and chatted about the things that we needed help lifting or shifting or celebrating. Pete even popped over for dinner one night then left in the morning, not wanting to interrupt the flow. 

In that dedicated space, I felt the layers of all the “what if,” “what should be,” “could be,” and “if only” melt away and I started to feel assured, supported and hella-capable. And the critic fell silent.

So, I’ve decided I’m a writer, maybe even a recipe book writer.

Love,
Laura. xo

P.S. If you have people around you that sing backup for your inner critic, find some new people.

P.P.S. Thank you, my dear friends and family for creating every opportunity for me to fly, no matter how crazy and long the flightpath.

LOOK UP

A few months back, during some downtime, I found myself reflecting on the last time inspiration came effortlessly and creativity flowed freely.

Honestly, it was in the years before my cell phone.

Before the always-present, always-on, constant connection. Before the dings and buzzes, the texts and emails, the Instagram messages, Facebook posts, and step tracking. It was long before I felt like I had to respond to every little thing immediately, every time; before I took my iPhone everywhere, even in the forest (I mean, you never know when you’re going to get kidnapped, right?); before I took my iPhone into my studio to listen to a podcast or to zoom here and there.

In the before times, I remember feeling full of ideas and boundless creativity. I was always making things, all sorts of things. I was plugged-in, connected, and inspired. I listened and I was interested. I had room for it all. It was good back then. I had energy and was grounded in some good fertile soil.

So…

I’ve been putting my phone down more and more, and looking up. I stopped wearing my Apple Watch, which I mainly used to track my movement (I mean, geez Laura, you’re either moving or you’re not, figure it out). I’ve stopped with the podcasts and started reading books again and listening to more music, even breaking out the vinyl. I’m getting lost in the garden and the trees, no phone in sight. I’m sitting quietly outside with my morning coffee, just taking it all in—not streaming or surfing or browsing—just sitting.

I’ve started to see the world around me in a new, yet beautifully familiar light. Without the constant digital noise, my thoughts have room to breathe and flow. I feel more rested. Calmer. Joyful. And, my creative flame has been sparked, which, it turns out, may have just been buried under a pile of notifications and alerts.

Now, of course, cell phones are an essential part of our lives, but I really needed to find balance and set boundaries. It is challenging at times, but I’m learning to make myself available to the world around me, once again. And I’m realizing that perhaps it’s not about seeking creativity and inspiration, but rather about creating the space for it to come and find you.

Love,
Laura. xo

"Feeling stuck? For goodness’ sake, give yourself a chance and put down your cell phone. Look up. Connect with yourself and others. Connect with the wild grasses and tall trees. It’s all there waiting for you, and it’s magnificent." ~Laura Harris

#lauraharrisretreats #whowereyoubeforeyourcellphone

The Gift of Being Stuck

I’ve been stuck. Creatively blocked, uninspired, tired, unmotivated—there are many ways to say it, but it’s all part of the same pile of ‘uck’. It snuck in slowly, like a dark cloud over my shoulder. In November, I was on fire. Then, sometime after the holidays, I started to feel like I was missing a certain spark. My desire to go into the studio was low, and when I did go, a lot of time was spent making mud. Certain nothing good would come of toughing it out, I’d turn out the lights and quietly get on with the other business of the day.

I would speak with my galleries and friends: “I’m so frustrated. I don’t know, is it hormones? I can’t deliver. I feel like I’m getting old. I just don’t have the passion for it. I think I’ve lost my mojo. Why can’t I just do it? I need to find my spark. Maybe I should just focus on my other projects. I’m kind of numb.”

Months went by. I generally avoided the studio, trying not to worry about the fact that my production is directly linked to my income. I listened to my trusty little voice that said, “Rest up, it’s going to be okay.” I walked in the forest and dedicated my time to desk projects, yard work and retreat planning.

Most importantly, I became completely available to our beloved senior dog, Chester. I barely left his side for the last few months of his long life. I navigated his pathways, carried him upstairs, and steered him around obstacles. I prepared his favorite meals on demand, bathed him, and made sure he had his little brown sweater on when it was cold. We napped wrapped up together almost every day and went to bed early every night. He was my constant companion in life, my shadow. Now it was my turn to follow him. When he left us, it took quite a long while, but I was able to grieve him fully and completely.

I’ve always known that slumps, creative or otherwise, are a natural part of the human experience. They mysteriously come and go for all of us on some level. As much as we try to understand them, dealing with them can be challenging and scary. They can stem from various factors, including burnout, stress, grief, or even the lack of a clear deadline or goal, such as a scheduled solo show. Hmmm, now there’s something to that—this was the first time in over 23 years that I did not have a winter solo show. Noted.

Whatever the cause of my block—most likely a perfect storm of various factors—I can now look back and see it as a true gift.

Slowly, I’m beginning to hear the call of the studio and feel the tingle of inspiration returning. The slump is ending as mysteriously as it started and I’m excited to get to work. For anyone reading this from the depths of “stuck,” know that you’re not alone. I’ve been there, and I’m just beginning to see light at the end of a pretty long tunnel. Some helpful strategies include giving yourself a deadline, changing your environment, seeking new sources of inspiration, experimenting without pressure, and setting small, achievable goals.

Or maybe just rest in it awhile. Accept it. Be kind to yourself, be present and trust that the spark never truly goes out. It’s always there, waiting.

Love,
Laura. xo

CREATIVE BONES

“I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”

I hear this a lot. And I don’t buy it. Not for a second.

How and when did we start believing we weren't creative? More importantly, who convinced us of this, and why did we accept it? Hmmm, should I even begin to go there? No, I’ll pin that topic for another time and keep this simple.

Look, every single one of us is radically creative. Right from the start, creativity is part of our DNA – it actually is in our bones and it sticks with us, growing and evolving as we do. Imagine it as an invisible toolbox we all carry around, full of bright ideas and unique solutions, ready for whenever we hit a snag or just want to make things more exciting.

It isn't just about being able to paint a masterpiece or write a hit song. It's about problem-solving, it's about seeing things in a new light, and it's about expressing yourself in ways that feel right to you. Whether you're finding a way to streamline a spreadsheet or figuring out how to make dinner with three random ingredients left in the fridge, that's creativity. Accountant? Creative. Engineer? Creative. Surgeon? Creative. Gardening? Yup, creative. It doesn't matter what you do for a living or how you spend your time; your creativity is at play every single day, and it’s powerful.

When you recognize, honour and expand your own creative spark, you can seriously boost your mental health. It can help you de-stress, reduce anxiety, make you more joyful and perk up your mojo. When you're in that zone, totally absorbed in what you're doing, that's called being in a flow state, and that’s a really good place to be. A creative mindset will help you look at things from different angles and come up with solutions you might not have considered otherwise. And in today's world, where change is the only constant, that kind of adaptability is golden – it’s pretty much your secret weapon for navigating life.

So please don't sell yourself short by saying you're not creative. You are. We all are. Full stop.

Love,
Laura. xo

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Our painting retreats are designed to spark the creative in all of us and they are for everyone, amateurs and pros alike. We prepare delicious and nourishing food, we get messy, paint freely, breathe deeply, discover a fantastic soundtrack, laugh, and remember what it feels like to let go.

This season’s retreats are full, but there’s sooo much more on the horizon including retreats here on the West Coast of Canada, France and Tuscany (oh yes!)

JOIN THE RETREAT MAILING LIST

IT'S JUST F***ING PAINT

At every one of my Beautifully Imperfect Painting Retreats, this sentiment is boldly scribbled on a chalkboard somewhere front and center. This mantra is more than a casual remark; it embodies a philosophy that resonates far beyond the retreats. Imagine embracing all of our projects from a position where there is no right or wrong, no bad. In this mindset, creating something becomes an exhilarating journey with no rules where the process itself is the destination, and the ‘mess-ups’ maybe – just maybe – lead us to our best work yet.

Often, when we imagine starting something, that little voice in our heads is ready to tell us it’s not going to work out. For creatives, negative self-talk can be particularly debilitating, often completely stifling our creativity and wonder. I think creative souls are particularly prone to negative self-talk due to the personal nature of our work and the vulnerability involved in sharing our inner world with the outer world. It can be a scary notion, and that little voice waits for just the right moment to whisper, “You’re not good enough.”

Well, that voice? It’s not the boss of us. We need to tell it to bugger off, detach from the outcome, and start the work.

There is no wrong! And when there is no wrong, everything is possible—each brush stroke, every scribbled word, each musical note is not merely constructive but an act of pure, unadulterated joy that strikes at the very core of who we are and, in some cases, awakens us to who we used to be. 

No matter the medium, we’re not creating to win; we’re creating to FEEL something. So just go for it. I mean, really, it’s just f***ing paint.

Love,
Laura. xo
#itsjustf***ingpaint #gomakeamess.

LET'S GET TO WORK

I’ve always been fascinated by people that seem to defy the conventional aging narrative. Those individuals who, rather than conforming to societal expectations, actually get cooler with age. You know the ones. Embracing every passing year they continue to evolve, expand, reinvent. They look radiant, they’re interested and interesting… some might say fearless.

But we all know that no one is fearless. It’s humanly impossible. There are just those who know how to feel the fear and do it anyways. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it. The more fear we have about a certain project or goal, the more it's a sign that this thing really matters to us and it’s exactly what we need to create time for.

Where there’s fear, there’s almost certainly procrastination. And what follows is a habit of delaying; accepting things as they are; staying safe rather than soaring… you know the drill.

But right this moment no matter our age or circumstance, we’ve got the chance to switch it up. Look at what areas we’ve felt paralyzed with fear… the blank canvases; the books we haven’t written; the projects we’ve delayed; the conversations we’ve longed to have; dreams we’ve tucked away. This very second, we can break free from the confines of the familiar, look at what we’ve been resisting AND GET TO WORK.

It’s time. I mean really… if not now, when? 

*Please pass this along to anyone you know who may find it interesting. As always, much thanks.

A Message from Ten Years Ago

The topic of connection, belonging and creative practice has been coming up a lot for me lately. As I take on this new year and dream up some fresh events and retreats, I’m reminded of this entry from almost ten years ago. I still feel every word of it strongly, so I thought I’d share it again. xo

FINDING HOME

– originally posted November 2014 –

In this moment I am feeling pretty grateful. Shocking really, given the myriad of challenges I’ve been handed this month… relocating home, studio and heart (to state the obvious).

Last week I presented at a Sparkfly event hosted by Pam Lewis at Nourish Bistro… a little, inspired space nestled sweetly in the country. When Pam and I first spoke about presenting, I hesitated given the timing of the event and the looming demands related to all the things mentioned above, but I said yes The theme was ‘connection’. The plan was to set up a little corner easel and canvas, crank the music and let the paint fly (like no one’s watching), and then we’d all have a little chat.

What I couldn’t have imagined was the undeniable, vibrational, energetic, magnetically good shit that occurred. After my nervous hand calmed, the music came in and moved my brush – I was in the zone. I was certainly aware of everyone behind me, but they were with me, along for the ride, on board and connected. When the music stopped and I turned around, the emotion was palpable. Some wiped away tears, some sat silent, and beaming smiles lit up the room. I was shown, once again the power of this little thing I do… something far beyond me.

If you were to ask what I know for sure, I’d say this: recognizing and honouring your own creative spark will lead you… whether it’s painting, cooking, gardening, writing, singing, accounting, whatever truly floats your boat. It will open you, lift you, free you, and most importantly connect you… to yourself, to your purpose, to the highest love, and to all those who champion you. It will bring you home to your very core.

So there you have it – I’m grateful for the fact that no matter what is going on in my life, no matter where I am (interim studio or Nourish Bistro) I can pick up a brush and instantly find ‘home’. 

“Recognize what brings you joy… crave it, honour it, practice it. It will lead you.”  Laura Harris

Cocoon.

My studio is a total disaster. Honestly, it's bad. While working on this latest collection, it's become clear that I've unintentionally built a cocoon around myself. I’ve realized that big canvases, amongst piles of material remnants and paint act as a sort of shield from what seems like a relentless barrage of global chaos. Some days, I’ve felt overwhelmed by it, not sure what to do with my sadness, let alone make a meaningful impact. Curling up in a ball is always an option, but a very smart couple taught me that when things feel challenging, it’s time to get to work. 

So I've been doing little else these past few months. I get up, grab a coffee and disappear into my mess where I try to make something beautiful. There I’m able to forget for awhile, even if it’s just for a short time… a precious relief I wish for our world.

#peace #ceasefire #globalmedic #doctorswithoutborders

LOVE, FOOD and PAINT.

Whoa! My last journal entry was entitled “Maybe it’s Time” and it was in 2020 - yikes! “Maybe it’s time indeed, Laura.” Here we go….

After a delicious and inspiring summer season, I’m compelled to share my insights around the potent intersection of love, food and paint.

Years ago, when I first started hosting painting retreats, my vision extended far beyond the easel. I didn’t want our time together to be just about learning how to paint. I wanted the experience to be wholeheartedly nourishing — imagine a big hug for the creative soul. I knew my close girlfriends needed to be included (because they’re amazing) and I envisioned artists, beginners, and everything in-between coming together in a gah-orgeous location where everyone would really FEEL like being creative, you know? I wanted our guests to get a real break from the everyday; connect with others and themselves; and feel supported and cared for. There would be easels of course, and a little paint to throw around for sure, but at the heart of my plan was good food. Really good food. 

That vision hasn’t changed.

Last month I had the privilege of hosting a series of painting retreats at my home in Victoria, BC. Surrounded by tall trees and water, we created a space where time seemed to slow down just enough for us to savor each moment. Our artistic journey began in the studio.  Each guest arrived with a warm smile, painting supplies and a hint of nervous energy. As we painted side-by-side, those initial nerves dissipated, barriers crumbled, and joy took root. We cranked the music, permission to be messy was granted, we threw paint, and reveled in the process of ‘letting go’.

Throughout our days together, three of my closest friends prepared and served the most delicious meals. From way out in the studio, we could hear them laughing and cheering and carrying on as they chopped and cooked and set out the linens for our meals. It was clear to everyone that joy was not only a key ingredient in the studio, but in the food being prepared.

When our studio time was done, we sat at a long table surrounded by gardens and laughter. Together we shared warm bread and fresh greens; silky fresh pasta with buttered sage and parmesan; lemon chicken and fresh summer beans. We savored not only the yummy flavors, but the profound moments we had woven together as a group — a unique form of nourishment that truly enriched our souls. 

I’ve come to understand that preparing and serving a meal to friends is, at its very core, an exquisite act of love. It’s a gesture that transcends the mere act of nourishment. It’s an expression of care and connection. It’s a beautiful way to say, “I cherish your presence and I want to make this moment special for you.” Needless to say, we all felt it. 

Lots of exciting things on the go so I’ll be popping in here again soon, promise. Until then, here’s a tasty little take-away. Hope you like it. L xo

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RACHEL’S ALMOND FLOUR CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

We serve these still warm from the oven. They’re ridiculously good (and gluten-free).

Ingredients:
• ⅓ cup salted butter
• ½ cup packed brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 ¾ cups packed almond flour
• ½ tsp baking soda
• ¼ tsp salt
• ½ heaping cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
• ½ cup loosely chopped pecans
• a good quality salt for sprinkling on top (we like Maldon)

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. Brown your butter: add butter to a small saucepan and place over medium heat. The butter will begin to melt, crackle, and then eventually foam. Make sure you whisk constantly during this process. After a couple of minutes, the butter will begin to brown and turn a nice golden amber color on the bottom of the saucepan, this usually happens once it foams. Continue to whisk and remove from heat as soon as the butter begins to brown and give off a nutty aroma. Immediately transfer the butter to a medium bowl to prevent burning, making sure you scrape all the butter from the pan. Set aside to cool for 10 minutes.

3. In a large bowl, mix together the brown butter, brown sugar, egg and vanilla extract until smooth.

4. In a separate bowl, mix together the almond flour, baking soda and salt. Mix well. Add to the wet ingredients slowly until just combined. Add the chocolate chips and pecans.

5. Using a medium spoon, place the dough in loose balls onto the prepared baking sheet about 2 inches apart.

6. Bake for 11-15 minutes until cookies begin to turn golden brown on the edges. Allow cookies to cool for 10-15 minutes on the baking sheet before transferring to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Makes around a dozen delicious cookies.

Maybe It's Time

You know that thing you dream of doing ‘one day’? Maybe it’s painting or writing; photography or quilting; macrame, dancing or gardening. Whatever it is, it floats your boat. But you’ve deemed it self-indulgent and therefore unimportant.   

Well, our world has pressed pause and maybe – just maybe – now is the time.

Creativity is powerful shit, especially during a global pandemic.

Getting busy with our hands and creating something grounds us like nothing else. Creativity reduces stress and anxiety and connects us to ourselves and the world around us. It gives us a sense of purpose and pride, releases endorphins and helps us heal. Creating something – anything – helps us privately express things we find impossible to put into words. Basically, it’s the best counselor you’ve ever had.

“I’m not creative.” Yes, you are. Creativity lives in all of us and it’s important. Don’t dismiss it. Honour it. 

Go do it. Take the pressure off, screw perfection and just enjoy yourself. And if you’re really not feeling it, do it anyway. Sometimes the days you push through are the BEST of days.

I’ll be here, creating every day as a way of turning all this crazy-new fear and helplessness into something good. Please reach out if you’re doing the same. I’d love to hear from you. xo

Uncomfortable and Thriving

I guess I started to notice it last year sometime. Some days it would feel strong and almost pull me – toward what, I didn’t know. Other days it would be more like a little nudge from the corner. I couldn’t put it into words, but I felt it almost every day, particularly around studio time. Something was shifting.

My morning commute to the studio was a short one, about 20 feet or so. Coffee in hand I’d go out our french doors, past the creek and the pond and maybe gather a few fallen leaves from the garden along the way. My studio was a sweet little cottage with just enough room to make a good mess. It was picturesque, still, quiet, and private. I’d often look out at the lovely yard and the beautiful trees and marvel at how lucky I was. I was in a great home routine for 17 years; things were simple and calm; and my work was good. I was comfortable. Ya, I said it: COMFORTABLE. Hmm.

 Not a good place for me. I realized I needed to be uncomfortable.

That little something I could feel was my creative mojo growing restless, and it began shouting at me, “Move. I needed to move my body, move my mind, and yes, move my studio to a much more untamed, loud, active place. I needed to disrupt. I needed to be afraid, to experiment, to feel vulnerable, to create new, unexpected things. And I needed to have the energy and space to do it. It was time for renewal and reinvention. While I was craving change – my art required it.

So, when the universe (and a gorgeous and generous human named Donna) presented me with the opportunity to take a studio space in downtown Victoria, I jumped at it. I moved in March.

This new space feels limitless and exciting. A bright spark has been lit in me and my work. I open the windows wide above the city street and am serenaded by the sounds of people laughing, cars honking, musicians playing, construction, alarms, bikes, skateboards, tourists, sirens – the sounds that have awakened that little part of my artist soul that was pulling and nudging me. Downtown can be loud. It’s always fluid. Every day I move, connect, explore, and watch. There’s a new energy flowing around me and it feels magical. 

While much has changed, much remains the same: my brushes, paints and canvases wait for me each morning; there’s always wine in the cabinet; strong coffee is never far; a decent playlist is constantly cranked; and things are still a little messy. 

 One day I’ll return to my beautiful home studio, but for now I’m happy here – uncomfortable and thriving. 

“If I’m an advocate for anything, it's to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.”  ~ Anthony Bourdain

Laura’s studio is located on Yates Street in Victoria, BC, and is open by appointment only. 

Embracing Possibility

“How can you possibly part with this one?” she asks.

“Some are harder than others,” I reply, hand on my heart. “And this one hurts.”

When I first started painting, I would get very attached to certain pieces. I’d hang them in my home and ponder them deeply. I’d stare at them, study them, try to remember each brush stroke and layer, and why I decided to leave ‘that’ there. Completely afraid that I wouldn’t be able to manifest something as wonderful ever again, I’d find myself trying to replicate the circumstances that yielded each most recent piece. I tried to remember what music I was listening to when I created it; which brushes I used; whether I was wearing my comfy pants. I’d compare each new work to the last one and critique it accordingly. I was no longer in the moment; joyful, in flow, creating, soaring, inventing, reveling in happenstance, making glorious mistakes. Instead, I was essentially stuck.

I realized that I needed to LET GO. I needed to embrace the possibility that my best work is always yet to come. And, in order to continue to LOVE what I do, I must experiment and grow. I now paint for the sake of my creative mojo, my soul, my practice. By letting go of overthinking about the past, I am free to evolve… no strings attached.

Last season, I began working on a new body of work. Although the pieces carry my recognizable textured style, they are quite different from anything else I’ve done before. They are contemporary, tone-on-tone and minimalist. Taking a leap in a new direction, no matter what your vocation or lifestyle, can be terrifying; but I needed to do it. In fact, I ached for it. The process of creating them was exhilarating, totally nerve-wracking and absolutely soul stirring. The final pieces hit the spot and I fell deeply in love with a few them… sigh. 

I’m honoured to say that my new work has been met with tremendous response and support. The 5ftx5ft blue piece (above) is entitled ‘Inside You’ll Find a Sigh’… a little nod to one of my heroes, Joni Mitchell, and a recognition of my heartfelt farewell as it makes its way to a new home.  

Now, let’s see what’s next.

Create What You Ache For

Six years ago, in honour of my 40th birthday, a large group of us rented a picturesque villa in the heart of Tuscany. Having believed I was Italian until I was in my teens (that’s a whole other blog) it made perfect sense for me to travel to ‘my homeland’ (delusion in full swing, but I’m ok with it). I imagined gathering with good people and sharing delicious food and wine under the proverbial Tuscan sun. Well, we did just that and more. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. 

La Poggiolaia is an elegant hilltop farmstead that is strategically positioned in the middle of Florence, Siena and Pisa. It takes its name from the vast groves of olive trees that surround it in every direction. Believe me, I could go on describing the sights, smells and swirling emotions; but let me just say, it’s heaven on earth.

When I asked the owner of the villa for the name of a chef who could help us with my birthday dinner, Paola replied, “Judy can help you. She lives down the road.” What I came to understand is that when it comes to a deep, rich, culinary knowledge of Tuscany, no one knows more than Judy Witts-Francini. She is a legend in the making with her market tours and cooking classes bringing the very essence of Tuscan living to your core. She is a woman full of purpose and passion, and what she brought to our gathering was a deliciousness-defined that I savour to this day. 

I find my open hand pressing on my chest whenever I speak of my time in Tuscany – like holding my heart somehow makes finding the right words easier. Simply put, there’s a beautiful, authentic, rawness about the land, its people and their food. This trifecta join together in a kind of potent mojo, that convinces every part of your being that it’s ok to let go and live, already. Eat bread for God’s sake; drink wine and laugh from your belly; share secrets; build things; dance like a wild-woman; love from your very core; honour family and celebrate friends; make time to stand alone amongst the vines and breathe in the stillness and power of it all (I’m clutching my chest again.) 

This trip marked a shift in me. It was there, overlooking the golden hills that my private, deep-down voice said clearly, “Create what you ache for, Laura. It’s time.”  I listened.

Now as I sit looking at the shiny new 2016 calendar on my desk, I’m happy to report that my little voice has grown mighty strong and guides me daily. She’s the director of many exciting events this year, one of which is a return to that magical property – this time with my paints and brushes. We’re offering our Beautifully Imperfect Painting Retreat in that magical place. Paola is there ensuring our beds are feathered, and my good friend Judy will be waiting to teach us the secrets of Tuscan cooking and charm us with her local magic. 

To mark this New Year and the awesomeness that it holds, I’ve asked Judy to share one of her delicious recipes. I hope you enjoy it. 

Love, Laura
#CreateWhatYouAcheFor  #FuelTheCreativeSoul  

For information on all our retreats, visit my website or email me at lharris@islandnet.com  Tuscany, please book before Jan 22, 2016.

London Town

I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while. It is my intention to change that. Lofty goals are in place, just you wait.

The dust has settled into the corners of our new home and my studio feels like I’ve been there for years. New images are taking shape on the canvas, a delightful side effect of a change of scene. These summer days have a comfortable, easy flow to them and I’m strangely tempted to stay put all season. But life is too short and delicious for that.

I’m writing this from a cozy little spot in London. Oh how I love this city... the smells, the light, the sound of the tube as it wanders the city with the bustle of wickedly interesting, stylized humans of every shape and colour. I'm always overwhelmed and crazy-inspired by the innovators and creators who have shaped this iconic place over the centuries, the real-deal-original “storytellers and makers”. As I navigate the cobblestone, a little voice whispers "the Masters walked here, can you feel it?". I try to soak up just a smidge of that juicy mojo and tuck it away to use when I get back to the studio. 

I have stood gobsmacked and teary in front of paintings that shaped who I am as an artist. I’ve stared at the actual brushstrokes of Van Gogh and Rothko’s edges and thought “My God, I can almost feel them.” Tate Modern, Saatchi, The National Gallery, Portrait Gallery. The mere thought triggers a deep sigh. 

And the pubs, Lordy, the pubs! Epicenters of connection and daily celebration, they define and honour community in a way that is sadly lacking at home. The first photo above was taken while sitting at one of my favourites. 

For me, travelling rekindles a romance with self. It reminds me what I’m made of, who I am. It fuels my creative soul, reminds me that I’m human, I’m brave and I’m free. It makes me believe, once again, that anything is possible.

Notting Hill is the current home of two dear friends of mine, who continue to amaze me with their generosity of spirit and courageously big living. We will walk, shop, dine and laugh our asses off before heading to Lisbon tomorrow. Mind the gap.

A New Year

One year ago I was completely dedicated to a plan… I would happily continue on, in my cozy home with my daughter, content with my tiny studio and I’d walk each morning on the paths by the coast, as I’ve been doing for 14 years. I’d be happy, strong, brave, free and fulfilled, and damn it, I’d do it on my own. 

Since then, I’ve learned that sometimes a detour offers a much sweeter journey. I’ve learned to always leave room in the plan for a little magic. Once again I learned to trust the unknown, for it knows better; that the truest courage and bravery is wrapped in a wide-open heart, and that fear is dangerous. I’ve learned that real freedom exists in the confines of unconditional love and that what I always thought was possible, is. Severe tendonitis, taught me to LET GO and for God’s sake appreciate what I do for a living… HONOUR it. I discovered that there’s wild strength in asking for help and that I have some Super Heroes waiting for the call. I learned that adapting is much cooler than controlling, and I’m now certain that ‘messy’ is my style and that beauty lives there. I learned that a good cry is as good as a laugh; joy is severely underrated; creativity is divine; red wine helps; and that dogs are highly evolved. I learned that everything is going to be ok; that time is precious; that we all have to dream bigger, give more and love harder. I realized that my daughter’s wisdom is super natural; my Mom’s touch is in everything I do; and my Dad will always, always show up just when I need him. I learned that friends stay and friends go, and that all of them leave a beauty mark. I was reminded to say Thank You and mean it. I learned that a full dinner table is sacred and that there is nothing sweeter in the world than the sound of laughter in our home. And this year I learned that the unplanned route may lead you to a place more magnificent than you’ve imagined.

In our painting workshops I suggest that we be present in the moment, let go, find joy, trust the process, and that our mistakes are gold. Perhaps tuck a few of those gems in your pocket and carry them through your days… I’m going to. Bring it on 2015!

From here in our new home with my new studio lit up in the distance, I wish you a joy-filled, new year full of glorious mistakes and unexpected detours. I’m off for a walk on my new favourite path by the sea.

Big-L-kind-of-Love,
Laura.

Finding Home

In this moment I am grateful… grateful and peaceful with a good pinch of inspiration. Shocking really, given the myriad of challenges I’ve been handed this month… relocating home, studio and heart… to state the obvious.

Last week I presented at a Sparkfly event hosted by Pam Lewis at Nourish Bistro… a little, inspired space nestled sweetly in the country. When Pam and I first spoke about presenting, I hesitated given the timing of the event and the looming demands related to all the things mentioned above, but I said yes. The plan was to set up a little corner easel and canvas, crank the music and let the paint fly (like no one’s watching), and then we’d all have a little chat. The theme was ‘connection’.

What I couldn’t have imagined was the undeniable, vibrational, energetic, magnetically good shit that occurred. After my nervous hand calmed, the music came in and moved my brush…  I was in the zone. I was certainly aware of everyone behind me, but their purpose was loud and clear… they were along for the ride, moving with me, on board and connected. When the music stopped and I turned around, the emotion was palpable… some wiped away tears, some sat silent, and beaming smiles lit up the room. Accepting and channeling the love in the room was my divine pleasure. I was shown, once again the power of this little thing I do… something far beyond me.

If you were to ask what I know for sure (Oprah) I’d say this: recognizing and honouring your own creative spark will lead you… whether it’s painting, cooking, gardening, writing, singing, accounting, whatever truly floats your boat. It will open you, lift you, free you, and most importantly connect you… to yourself, to your purpose, to the highest love, and to all those who champion you. It will bring you home to your very core.

So there you have it… I’m grateful for the fact that no matter what is going on in my life, no matter where I am (interim studio or Nourish Bistro) I can pick up a brush and instantly find ‘home’. 

“Recognize what brings you joy… crave it, honour it, practice it. It will lead you.”  Laura Harris.

Photo by Sara Hembree, thegritofit.com

Giggles & Watermelon

GIGGLES & WATERMELON, 60”x40” 2003

I’m in the process of moving and I spent most of last week in the basement with one of my oldest and dearest friends, surrounded by cardboard boxes and tape. What to keep and what to toss was the theme. I uncovered all sorts of treasures and made some difficult decisions. As I sifted through old family photos, high school love letters and sweet-smelling baby clothes, I was reminded of who I am, where I came from, what I’ve been through and how and why I love. What a gift. 

In one corner of the basement was a stack of paintings I haven’t looked at in years. This is one of them and I’m thrilled to have it. I can see my sense of play, my joy… my wildly unapologetic approach to the process. The evolution in my work fascinates me. Perhaps I’ll revisit this style again soon.

Nourishment

I love to eat and food is a huge part of my life. I must confess that when it comes to planning for our workshops, more time is spent preparing the menu and sourcing the food than any other component! Our goal is always to prepare and provide healthy, nourishing meals for both body and soul. Rachel and I are always concocting new workshop recipes and testing them out on our closest friends (yes, there have been a few late night test kitchen cook-off events!)  

People often ask, ‘what’s in this?’ and honestly the recipes are all quite simple. The secret is in the ingredients. We use organic and local ingredients whenever possible and always use the very best olive oil and salt (I swear to you, this makes a huge difference!) I have been promising our recipes for years and I’m thrilled to finally deliver. Here’s a delicious salad to start us off and I’ll be posting new recipes regularly including our gluten-free roasted vegetable pie, the salmon cakes and oh yes, the quinoa chocolate cake! I hope you enjoy.
 

Arugula Salad with quinoa, basil and sweet cherry tomatoes

I sometimes eat this on its own for lunch. It's delicious, simple and fresh. And the basil! Lordy, Lordy, the basil… so yummy.

Salad
2⁄3 cup quinoa
1 1⁄3 cups water
1 cup loosely packed, chopped basil
4 cups loosely packed arugula
2 cups fresh, sweet cherry tomatoes, chopped in half
½ cup crumbled goat feta (or cherry size buffalo mozzarella as shown here)

Dressing
½ cup good quality extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
a good pinch of Fleur de Sel (to taste)
dash of black pepper

Directions
Bring the quinoa and water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Cover, reduce to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the covered saucepan on the burner for another 10 minutes. Fluff with a fork and allow the quinoa to cool. In a large bowl, toss together all the salad ingredients, including the cooked quinoa. Add the dressing right before serving. Share. Eat. Be happy.