From Brush to Button: Why I Make Across So Many Mediums

Same Hands, Different Canvases

Some artists find one medium and settle in like it’s home. My path has never been that neat. One day I’m painting glittering swirls across a child’s cheek, the next I’m knitting a bag to cradle dice, or pressing a button design that might end up pinned to someone’s backpack for years. To me, it’s all part of the same story.

People sometimes ask—“So which is your real art?” I can’t help but smile, because that question assumes art has to choose a lane. For me, it’s never been about narrowing down. It’s about curiosity, connection, and finding as many doors into Wonderland as I can.

The Brush: Art That Lives in the Moment

Face painting is where most people meet me first. It’s bold, fast, and a little risky. There’s no eraser, no “undo” button, just a moving canvas that laughs, squirms, and breathes under the brush. Every swirl has to be confident, every color intentional.

But what makes it magic isn’t the speed—it’s the instant transformation. I watch a shy child climb into my chair and step down as a roaring tiger or a sparkling fairy. The look in their eyes tells me the art isn’t just on the outside. It shifted something inside too. That moment of joy, of pure self-recognition, is why I keep showing up with brushes in hand.

--> read more at Behind the Brush: Professional Face Painting Secrets

The Button: Art That Lingers

If face paint is fleeting, buttons, stickers, and jewelry are its opposite. They linger. They travel. A sticker finds its way onto a laptop, a button brightens a jacket, a necklace becomes someone’s go-to charm. These pieces are small but portable—they turn into daily reminders that whimsy doesn’t have to wash away with soap and water.

Working small forces me to think differently. I have to distill an idea into an inch of space, bold enough to be seen, playful enough to spark a smile. What I love most is the intimacy of it: when someone chooses to wear my art, they’re choosing to carry that piece of magic with them.

The Thread: Mediums in Conversation

Here’s where the rest of my toolbox comes in: knitting, crochet, clay, tarot illustrations. They’re quieter, slower mediums, and they balance the performance-driven energy of face painting. Knitting reminds me that beauty often arrives stitch by stitch. Illustration sharpens my eye for detail. Clay grounds me in texture and patience.

The magic is that they don’t stay separate. They echo each other. A color scheme I try in watercolor shows up later in yarn. A clay pattern becomes a face-paint stencil. Even my tarot illustrations shape how I think about storytelling in other mediums. It’s less like juggling, more like crop rotation—each medium feeding the soil for the next.

The Why: Doors Into Wonderland

Why so many mediums? Because not everyone enters the world of art through the same door. Some kids want the thrill of becoming a tiger for the afternoon. Others want a button they can pin to their jacket, a piece they can revisit every day. Some crave the meditative quiet of tarot cards; others want the glitter, giggles, and noise of a festival booth.

Making across mediums means I can meet people where they are. It also means I can meet myself where I am. In grief, I reach for yarn. In celebration, I reach for glitter. Every medium is not only an outlet, but a balance—different ways of holding myself together.

-->Read more Here Step Into my Whimsical World

The Heart of It All

Laid out side by side, my work might look chaotic: jars of buttons, stacks of yarn, painted cheeks, half-finished sketches. But there’s a thread running through every single piece—curiosity, whimsy, connection. Carroll’s playful nonsense, Van Gogh’s color, Escher’s mind-bending twists—they’ve all seeped into my hands, no matter the medium.

I don’t make across many mediums because I’m scattered. I make across many mediums because each one unlocks a different kind of magic. And the world needs them all.

So if you’ve ever felt torn between creative callings, know this: you’re not unfocused, you’re expansive. Wonderland never asked for one lane, and neither should we.

Closing Invitation

Whether it’s a brush, a button, or a ball of yarn, I’ll keep making. Because every canvas—no matter how small—holds a little Wonderland waiting inside.