Winter Spa
Three months ago, I quietly expanded Urbanist Vancouver, deciding to offer illustration as a side business. There was no announcement or big plan—just a clear inner decision to take this work seriously and see where it could grow.
Working When Life Gets Quiet
There’s something revealing about how we show up when no one is watching—when inboxes are quiet and deadlines temporarily disappear. The holidays can easily become a time to disengage, to slip into what I think of as a collect-the-paycheque mindset toward life itself: do less, care less, coast until January.
As I reach my one-year mark working at Katzie First Nation, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to visualize a career that isn’t constantly wired to external noise or pressure. I’m very aware of how disengagement affects me—not just my work quality, but my personal energy. When I check out mentally, my focus dulls. My confidence thins. Even rest stops feeling truly restful.
Painting during the holidays did the opposite. It sharpened me.
These two watercolor pieces were created slowly and with full attention. They were client requests, which brought a sense of responsibility—but also clarity. I wasn’t painting to fill time. I was painting because someone trusted me to do this work well.
Doing Your Best Is an Energy Practice
For me, “doing your best” isn’t about perfection. It’s about alignment. When I give my full effort—even knowing the outcome may not be perfect—I feel more grounded, not more tired.
Watercolor is an unforgiving medium. You can’t overwork it. You have to stay present, make decisions, and accept imperfection as part of the process. That mix of focus, effort, and acceptance feels almost meditative. A winter spa, in its own way.
I’ve noticed that when I consistently do my best, my inner world becomes quieter. I don’t replay conversations. I don’t question my integrity. I don’t wonder if I could have cared more. That sense of mental spaciousness is worth far more than convenience.
Laying a Foundation, Quietly
Urbanist Vancouver has always been about observing places, systems, and human stories with care. Illustration is simply another way of doing that—slower, more tactile, and deeply embodied.
These first paid illustration projects don’t feel like milestones I need to celebrate loudly. They feel like a foundation. I’m letting this part of my work grow at its own pace, with patience, curiosity, and a commitment to quality over visibility.
Sharing these drawings feels vulnerable—not because they aren’t ready, but because growth is still visible in them. And that’s okay. I’m learning to let the process be seen.
