It started as a private thing.
I'd finish a painting, sit with it, and then write — not for anyone, just for the painting. A few lines. Sometimes a full page. A conversation between me and the thing I'd just made.
At some point I started sharing them. And the response told me everything I needed to know.
That poem made me cry.
I read that three times before I could move on.
I bought the painting because of the poem.
So let me tell you why I do this, and why I'll never stop.
A Painting Holds a Feeling. A Poem Names It.
Visual art works on you in ways you can't always articulate. You look at something and it does something to you — some internal shift, some recognition, some ache. But you can't always put language to it.
That's actually beautiful. That's the power of visual art doing its thing.
But I'm also a writer. And for me, language is how I go deeper into what I've made. The poem doesn't explain the painting. It doesn't translate it. It runs alongside it, in a different key, saying something that only language can say.
Together, they're more than either one alone.
It's a Love Letter to the Person Who Takes It Home
When someone buys one of my paintings, they're not just buying a beautiful object. They're inviting something into their home that came from the deepest, most honest part of me.
The poem is my way of acknowledging that. You chose this. You felt something. Here's the rest of what I was trying to say.
I print the poem on card stock and include it with every original. I frame it alongside the painting in the listing images. It's part of the piece. It lives with the painting.
An Example
Here's the poem I wrote for one of my Bold Becoming Series pieces:
She stopped waiting to be ready.
She had been ready for years.
The only thing that changed
was that she decided to begin.
Why This Matters for You as a Collector
When you collect original art, you're building something. A home that reflects who you are and who you're becoming. The poem makes that more intentional. It gives you language for why you chose what you chose. It becomes a touchstone.
That's what I'm here to create.
— Lisa