Studio Journal Entry 003: The Story Behind Convergence

"This painting was almost called The Turning."

For a while, that name felt exactly right.

Because this painting marked so many turning points at once.

It was about turning inward and rediscovering the joy of creating simply for the sake of creating. It was about turning away from the traditional career I had spent years chasing and toward a life where I could build something with my own hands. It was about turning the page during a season of change and making a decision that, on paper, probably didn't make much sense.

At what many people would consider the peak of my career, I chose joy instead.

And somehow, I found peace in that decision.

But as I finished the painting and finally stepped back from the canvas, I realized something.

This wasn't really a story about turning away from one life.

It was about everything coming together.

That's when The Turning became Convergence.

The name suddenly made perfect sense.

Like many of the paintings that followed, I started this one with a very clear picture in my mind of what I wanted it to become. I spent far too much time trying to force certain shapes—and especially the fish—to look exactly the way I imagined.

Those fish almost got me.

Looking back, they were never really the problem.

The problem was that I was trying too hard to control the painting.

Everything changed the moment I let go.

Instead of chasing perfection, I started paying attention to what the painting was trying to tell me. The colors became more alive. The movement felt more natural. The imperfections I had been trying to fix suddenly became some of my favorite parts.

That lesson has followed me into almost every painting I've created since.

When people ask why Convergence is my favorite, it isn't because I think it's my best painting.

It's because it feels the most like me.

When I look at it, I see everything I've been searching for in my work: movement, color, and emotion living together on one canvas. Objectively, I think it commands attention. Subjectively, it feels playful, colorful, and energizing.

They're all things I hope to be, too.

At the time, I had no idea this painting would become so important to me.

That realization came much later.

It wasn't until I looked back that I understood what had really happened.

Convergence wasn't just the result of learning how to paint.

It was the result of learning how to trust myself.

If there's one thing I hope people feel when they stand in front of this painting, it isn't that they notice a particular shape or color.

I hope they feel the spirit that lives inside it.

Because that's what I feel every time I look at it.

Joy.

Convergence reminds me that sometimes even when the outcome is unknown and every step feels more like an experiment than a direction, it's worth continuing because the journey can redefine you in ways you would never expect.

At the time, I didn't know I was painting my favorite piece.

I just knew I needed a sign that I was on the right path.

For me, Convergence became one.

Until next time,

Thanks for spending a few minutes behind the easel with me.

One of my favorite things about abstract art is that no two people experience a painting the same way. If this piece reminds you of a place, a memory, or simply a feeling, then it's already begun a conversation—and I love that.

See you in the studio,

Lisa
LBW Creative Studio

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One Last Thought Before I Clean My Brushes

"Sometimes the painting isn't changing nearly as much as the person holding the brush."