Brushstrokes and Paw Prints: Finding Freedom in Creative Growth
Art isn’t about perfect plans or flawless technique—it’s about the quiet magic that happens when inspiration meets reality. The best creative moments aren’t always polished ready to be cataloged and featured in this months Martha Stewart or an Wayfair Catalog.
They’re the unexpected turns, the happy accidents, the beautifully imperfect pieces that tell a story.
Much like the old adage, "the best laid plans of mice and men," our artistic journeys rarely unfold exactly as we imagine. And maybe that’s where the real magic begins.
There was a time when every piece I created felt like a battle for perfection. Every brushstroke had to be just right, every shadow meticulously placed—no room for error, no space for spontaneity. I chased photo realism, convinced that capturing reality in its finest detail was the pinnacle of artistic mastery.
If you’ve been around for a while, you’ve seen the journey—the experiments, the wins, the setbacks. And through it all, I learned something big: I put WAY TOO MUCH pressure on myself.
Do you ever do that? Get stuck in your own head, agonizing over every little choice like the world is going to collapse if you make the wrong one? Yeah, me too. But today, I want to talk about stepping away from that spiral—about learning to be your own greatest ally instead of your worst critic.
And that brings me to Salem’s Ember
a scrappy, mud-loving bundle of chaos who somehow managed to give this perfection-obsessed artist the reality check she didn’t know she needed. She doesn’t care about precision, doesn’t agonize over details, and certainly doesn’t hesitate before diving headfirst into a mess.
She lives in the moment—joyful, stubborn, completely unapologetic—and that’s exactly what I needed to see.
Because when Ember charges full speed through a perfectly clean room, soaked in water, tearing up a brand new toy, and delighted with herself, you have two choices:
Despair over the ruined floors.
Laugh, grab a towel, and remind yourself that perfection is overrated.
For years, I was stuck in the first mindset, clutching at control, convinced that every mistake was a setback. But Ember, in her chaotic wisdom, showed me that sometimes, the best moments happen when you let go and embrace the mess.
When I first started out, art was all about chasing perfection. I spent countless hours—and sometimes months—pursuing photo realism, convinced that every minute detail captured with the precision of a camera was the ultimate goal. I believed my art’s value lay solely in technical mastery—pieces had to look flawless, whether viewed close up or from afar.
But that relentless pursuit only led to mounting stress. Critics pointed out subtle issues, and every negative comment chipped away at my self-worth. Surrounded by expectations—especially those born from familial comparisons and the pressure to prove myself—I began to wonder: Was I creating art for validation rather than for the pure love of the process? When my father passed, I felt rudderless, drifting amidst countless unfinished pieces.
At the same time, I saw a remarkable parallel in my experience training Ember. Every milestone had to be perfect.
I would worry that if we took a day off, she’d forget a command; I fretted if she wasn’t flawless on every store visit—even at six months old.
We powered through class every class:
Puppy Star,
Canine Good Citizen,
and Advanced Canine Good Citizen (CGC-A)
with Ember always expected to perform under a strict standard of “perfect behavior.” I beamed when we received compliments, yet felt my efforts were never enough when Chris joked that “she’s OK.”
By the time we reached her CGC-A test, I was a nervous wreck. I panicked at minor slip-ups, convinced that any imperfection proved I’d failed her—and that I, as a trainer and dog mom, was letting down both Ember and Chris.
Ember visiting Chris in the hospital prior to her CGC Test
After passing the CGC-A test,
I recognized the unsustainable pressure I put us under. I decided to take a break—for both Ember and myself. I let her simply be a puppy for a full month, free to run,
play,
jump,
and indulge in those joyful zoomies without constant judgment.
After a few weeks, we spent a day at the Midwest Horse Fair,
where Ember could experience a real-world environment unburdened by the pressure of being judged or giving a perfect performance. It was there she showed me a new side of herself: relaxed,
adaptable,
and naturally in tune with her surroundings.
Unfazed by horses or bustling crowds, she shifted from a rigid heel to naturally helping Chris navigate the throng of people. Bolstered by that newfound ease, I scheduled her test for the CGC-U. She’d already experienced everything on that test during her day at Midwest Horse Fair, so even if she didn’t score perfectly on paper, in my book, she had already proven herself.
Ember Successfully navigated a crowd of 50K during her 8 hour day. Helping keep Chris calm and allowing him to enjoy the Fair.
During her CGC-U test, an unexpected incident occurred—a woman, captivated by Ember, approached us, causing her to break her down-stay. Rather than triggering panic, I calmly corrected Ember’s position, just as I had done countless times before, while the tester—both amused and very annoyed—observed the brief disruption. What could have derailed us instead became a validating moment. In that unscripted five-minute interruption—a duration far beyond the standard three-minute down-stay—everything shifted. I realized then that perfection isn’t the marker of success. Whether in art or dog training, those messy, unpredictable moments aren’t failures; they’re the sparks of true creativity and growth.
One of the tasks Ember must perform in her mobility training is to pick up items of various textures and weights without damaging them and then bring them to the person issuing the “Bring” command.
Ember following the lazer to "Bring" me a item.
This exercise is a crucial part of her upcoming PAT test. Drawing on my unconventional successes in art, I began to ponder the most efficient way for Ember to master multi-item retrieval.
Ember handing me get rope from the shelf
Teaching her an extensive vocabulary of item names just didn’t seem reasonable—she already knows how to fetch keys or a phone when dropped or when Chris needs help. But getting her to reliably retrieve random items wherever we are was going to require some out-of-the-box thinking. Dismissed by my trainer with a “good luck with that,”
I decided to push forward with a laser-targeted item retrieval method. This experimental approach has its ups
and downs,
She got the same item not the one I asked for but in frustration ripped it open.
and while it’s still a work in progress, it’s shown promise.
She understands the concept but it's harder with distractions.
I’m confident she’ll master it with time—and I’m in no rush to formally test her until she’s 100%. In fact, since much of her training runs contrary to the requirements of the CGC-U, we may ultimately decide that the added stress of testing isn’t worth the accolade.
In this experimental pursuit, I saw a reflection of my own creative journey—sometimes, the best results come from embracing spontaneity and letting go of perfection. In one especially remarkable display of her character, Ember broke from her usual routine, to protect Chris at our hotel in Madison. While I noticed a stranger approaching, Chris did not—until Ember, acting off-script, sprang into action with a bark and alerted bristled and ready to defend Chris. Her split-second decision to deviate from training not only caught our attention but, in that moment, undoubtedly helped protect Chris from danger. It’s important to note that I was too far away to intervene if anything had happened; Ember’s alert not only warned us of the approaching person but also of a loose dog that immediately charged Chris. Had Ember not been there, I have no doubt Chris would have been hurt.
Chris and Ember are a pair for sure.
Part 4: Integration, Reflection, and Moving Forward
Over time, my technique has evolved—both on the canvas and in how I train Ember—into an exploration of what it really means to create and learn without the shackles of perfection. The transition has been transformative. In art, I’ve learned that the joy is in the process, in embracing spontaneous experiments that challenge the rigidity of photo realism. With every commission that forced me to think outside the box, every mixed-media piece like First Frost
where unexpected elements such as swirling glitters and luminous highlights redefined the narrative, and every playful creation like the Rainbow Rhino, I discovered that artistic freedom begins when you stop obsessing over flawless replication and start trusting your intuitive voice.
From the day we brought her home as a bundle of soft,
unkempt fur and wide, curious eyes,
Ember started her journey with us at nine weeks,
Ember's first moments home
struggling to push through tall grass just to keep up with Chris. Her future full of promise.
Today Ember’s journey captures a transformation from clumsy exploration
to confident determination.
Ember Calmly observes the Clinicians in the Colosseum
Even now with all the accolades that she’s achieved and all the classes she’s graduated, Ember still makes mistakes. Only she’s not doing it on purpose. Sometimes they are genuine misunderstandings, other times the puppy just gets the better of her.
Ember Needing a bit of Love after being scared by gunfire with Mounted Justice
In that same way I have evolved myself perception to one of acceptance learning to forgive mistakes, recognizing a need for rest and embracing a deeper understanding of myself. This mirroring my own evolution as an artist who has grown from meticulously chasing perfection to embracing the beauty of organic, unpredictable growth has lead to a more enriching and satisfying relationship with my art, my family and those around me.
Now, as I integrate all these experiences, I celebrate the evolution of both my art and my training methods. I no longer feel compelled to chase perfection for perfection’s sake. Instead, I’ve embraced the beauty of exploration, the reward in raw experimentation, and the lessons embedded in every “mistake.” Whether I’m mixing media on canvas or pushing the boundaries of Ember’s training, I constantly remind myself that life is a vibrant, ever-changing tapestry—one best appreciated in its most authentic, unpolished form.
As I look ahead, the journey continues. There’s no final destination, just a commitment to growth, learning, and the joyful messiness of creating something real. Here’s to continually celebrating the unpredictable dance between precision and spontaneity, and to forging a path where every moment—imperfect and brilliant—adds color to the story of my process of growth.
This year Ember overcame her fear of Lake Michigan
Don't Give Up on the Journey
To anyone wrestling with the question of whether your work truly matters—feeling that your experiments aren't worth the effort or that every stumble is a sign of failure—know that your creative journey is valuable in itself.
It’s easy to get caught up in the metrics of success, whether that's views, likes, or external validation, but real growth happens when you trust your own process.
Just as with training Ember, an overemphasis on perfection can tip the balance in favor of accolades over genuine development, leaving you chasing an elusive ideal instead of celebrating progress.
Consider Ember's early days: at nine weeks, she was a clumsy bundle of soft, unkempt fur, struggling through tall grass just to keep up with Chris
—a gentle reminder that every journey begins with uncertain steps. As she matured into a confident young pup with a determined, alert gaze, her progress was never linear; each misstep, each playful mistake, was part of her evolution.
Ember missing Chris's command to "Sit"
In the same way, our creative endeavors aren’t defined by a single moment of success or failure. Whether you’re behind the lens or in front of the canvas, every imperfect attempt fuels your growth and teaches you something new.
So if you ever find yourself doubting your worth or the value of your creative experiments, take a breath, trust your instinct, and keep moving forward. Your journey is uniquely yours, and every step—no matter how uncertain—matters. Remember, perfection is not the goal; it's the act of creating with authenticity and passion. Keep celebrating the unpredictable dance between precision and spontaneity, and know that every moment, imperfect and brilliant, adds color to the story of your life.
If you’d like to hear more and keep up with Ember’s Journey she has her own Facebook page where you can follow along on her adventures: