What can I learn from Leonardo da Vinci in 2025?

As I try to navigate life as an artist in 2025, I sometimes find myself (usually in the midst of boredom) trying to incorporate different creative interests—sketching, writing, studying, problem-solving. Sometimes, it feels crazy because there’s no way anyone would have the emotional, spiritual (or physical) stamina to pursue all those areas of creativity. But…then I think of Leonardo da Vinci. This guy painted The Last Supper and the Mona Lisa, yes—but he was also an engineer, a botanist, an anatomist, an inventor, a dreamer. And somehow, all of it was part of his art.

Da Vinci reminds me that curiosity is not a distraction—it’s fuel. He didn’t believe in separating disciplines. He sketched flying machines alongside studies of lilies. He dissected cadavers not out of morbidity but to understand how the body moved, so he could paint it more truthfully. I mean, that’s dedication. He kept notebooks full of questions, diagrams, and observations. That kind of restless, generous mind feels incredibly modern to me.

“Learning never exhausts the mind. It ignites it.”

We live in a time that often pressures us to specialize, to brand ourselves. But Leonardo teaches me that it’s okay—even essential—to stay wide open. That following your curiosity wherever it leads can actually deepen your work, not dilute it.

If I’m paying attention to his life, I also learn that “unfinished” doesn’t mean “unworthy”. Many of his paintings were left incomplete. He was slow, meticulous, and sometimes paralyzed by his own perfectionism. That hits home. I’ve learned that sometimes the fear of not getting it “right” can block the very thing I’m trying to express. But Leonardo’s notebooks, his questions, his explorations—they’re just as valuable as the paintings he completed. Maybe more.

And…there’s this: Leonardo never stopped observing and I love that. He watched water swirl. He tracked how birds flew. He studied the way lips curved when someone smiled. That kind of attention—to both the world and the self—is a practice I try to carry into my own work.

Leonardo da Vinci wasn’t just a genius. He was a student of everything, forever in awe of the world. And in 2025, in a world of fast takes and shallow scrolls, his life reminds all of us that it’s okay (even essential) to slow down, look closely, ask questions, and let wonder lead the way.

What can I learn from Michelangelo in 2025?

As a full-time working artist in 2025, I sometimes get caught between wanting to create freely and feeling pressure to “master” everything—to be fast, visible, accomplished. Honestly, that tension is what stops a lot of really creative people form going forward with their craft. Then I read about Michelangelo and am shamed (in a really good way though). His name feels almost too large to touch, like he belongs in textbooks and marble halls. But when I look closer, I see an artist who wrestled deeply with his work, with himself, and with what it meant to make something meaningful in a complicated world. I really like that.

Michelangelo wasn’t just gifted—he was obsessed. He worked with intensity, solitude, and relentless drive. He carved, painted, sketched, designed buildings. He labored over details that most people would never see. He pushed himself physically and emotionally to the point of exhaustion. And yet, he kept creating—not for fame, but because he had to.

“If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn't seem so wonderful at all.”

That quote says everything. In a culture that often glorifies talent and instant success, Michelangelo reminds me that greatness comes from discipline, sacrifice, and focus over time. It’s okay to work slowly. It’s okay to struggle. The work should challenge us.

What also strikes me is how spiritually driven he was. Whether or not you share his beliefs, there’s something powerful in the way he treated art as a calling—a bridge between the earthly and the divine. In a time where so much feels transactional, he reminds me that art can still be sacred.

He also lived with contradiction. He was intensely private but created public masterpieces. He loved the male form but lived in a culture that condemned it. He was a sculptor who painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling because he had to, not because he wanted to. There’s something reassuring about that complexity. It tells me that we don’t have to be perfectly aligned to create powerful work—we just have to keep showing up.

Michelangelo’s life teaches me that art isn’t just about beauty. It’s about devotion, wrestling, patience, and faith—in the process, in the craft, and in the possibility of saying something that lasts.

Staying Creative

When I think about the most creative people I know, I don’t think of famous artists or designers—I think of kids. They’ll turn a stick into a sword, a blanket into a cape, and a cardboard box into a spaceship without hesitation. No second guessing. Just pure imagination. Somewhere along the way, most of us lose that. But I’ve realized it doesn’t have to be gone for good.

For me, staying creative like a kid starts with staying curious. I try to ask more questions—not just about art, but about everything. Why does light hit that wall like that? What would happen if I mixed these two ideas? When I stay curious, I stay open—and that’s when the good stuff starts to show up.

Another thing I’ve learned: play matters. I used to think every creative session had to be productive. Now, I let myself mess around more. I scribble, I doodle, I experiment with no real goal. That’s when things get interesting—when there’s no pressure to be brilliant.

“…play matters.”

And honestly, I’ve had to work on letting go of the fear of looking ridiculous. Kids don’t care if their drawing makes sense—they’re just in it for the joy. I try to tap into that. The less I judge my work while I’m making it, the freer I feel.

I also find that reconnecting with my senses—walking outside, watching how shadows move, noticing tiny details—keeps me grounded and inspired. The world is full of little sparks if I actually take the time to look.

Mostly, I just try to keep that sense of wonder alive. The world’s still magical, if I let it be. And when I do, creativity follows—just like it did when I was a kid.

The Quiet Labor

With calloused hands and steady gaze,
The artist meets the morning haze.
Each dawn arrives, serene and still,
A canvas waits beneath his will.

A single stroke, then pause, then two—
He listens for what's good and true.
The paint may speak, the wood may sigh,
And clay holds dreams not seen by eye.

He does not rush the shaping flame,
For beauty’s not a thing to tame.
And patience walks beside his hand,
A quiet force that helps him stand.

He feels the soul in stone and grain,
In weathered knots and lines of strain.
Within the flaws, he finds the thread,
Of stories time has left unsaid.

The floor is strewn with starts and drafts,
Each one a step along his craft.
He toils not for the world’s acclaim,
But for the fire that has no name.

He works for love, not fleeting praise,
To bring forth light from shadowed days.
To build from nothing something true,
And say, “This is my gift to you.”

Each pigment mixed, each chisel’s trace,
Speaks quiet hope and boundless grace.
A silent hymn, a guiding spark,
For souls who wander in the dark.

He does not seek the hurried cheer,
But plants his art and waits the year.
As seasons turn, so does his hand,
In rhythm only hearts understand.

For art is not a race to win,
But something slow, and deep within.
It calls for time, for care, for truth,
For weathered hands and dreams of youth.

So let him work, and let him be,
A steward of what few can see.
A patient soul, a sacred part,
The quiet labor of the heart.

"What was it like going to art school?"

I was asked recently about my own experience at art school. Actually, I attended a Design school, and though art was a large part of the training, the education at Art Center College of Design was much more extensive than just art. Attending Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California, really was one of the most unforgettable chapters of my life. Out of all the memories I made during my time there, one experience stands out above the rest—the collaborative design project in my third term.

That project was part of a transdisciplinary course where students from different design backgrounds, like graphic design, industrial design, and interaction design, teamed up. Our goal was to come up with a product that would make urban life better. Working with such a talented and diverse group of people opened my eyes to new ways of thinking and solving problems. Each person brought something unique to the table, and that blend of creativity was electric.

“(this was) really was one of the most unforgettable chapters of my life…”

Our team landed on the idea of creating a modular public seating system that could adapt to different urban spaces. I focused on the visual branding and user interface, while my teammates handled product engineering and environmental design. We hit some roadblocks trying to balance style with function, but we worked through every challenge together, determined to make something both beautiful and practical.

What made the experience even more special was the feedback we got from our instructors and visiting professionals. Their honest critiques pushed us to keep improving and paying attention to every little detail. Art Center had this way of demanding the best from us, and it made us better designers.

The day we presented our final prototype at the end-of-term showcase was one I’ll never forget. Seeing our hard work come to life and hearing positive reactions from our peers and industry pros made it all worth it. It was a real reminder of how design can shape the world around us.

That project at Art Center didn’t just sharpen my design skills—it taught me the value of teamwork, resilience, and staying open to new ideas. It was a perfect example of what Art Center stands for: excellence, innovation, and pushing creative boundaries. Those lessons and memories will stay with me wherever my career takes me.

The Connection Between Art and Grief

Correctly expressing Grief is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to figure out. I’ve tried ignoring it and pretending everything was okay; I’ve inappropriately lashed out when grief-induced frustration pushed me over the edge, and that did nothing to deal with the grief behind the frustration. Losing someone you love or something you really enjoyed leaves a hole that feels impossible to fill, and for a long time, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I struggled to find the right words to express what I was feeling, and the weight of my emotions felt unbearable. But art became my outlet, my escape, and ultimately, my way of healing.

One of the most powerful things art did for me was give me a way to express emotions I couldn’t put into words. When I was overwhelmed with sadness, I would pick up a paintbrush and let the colors tell my story. Some days, the strokes were chaotic and angry; other days, they were soft and sorrowful. Even though I wasn’t always sure what I was painting, the process itself helped me release emotions I had been holding inside. Writing worked the same way—I could pour my feelings onto a page, even if no one else ever read them.

“Art gave me a way to express emotions I couldn’t put into words.”

Art also reminded me that I wasn’t alone. At my lowest points, I would listen to music or read poetry that spoke to my pain, and it was comforting to know that other people had felt this way too. Their words and melodies became a reminder that grief is universal, that others had survived it, and that I could too. It connected me to something bigger than my own sorrow.

More than anything, creating art gave me a sense of peace, even when everything else felt chaotic. When I focused on painting or writing, my mind wasn’t consumed by sadness—it was present, engaged in the act of creating. It didn’t make the grief disappear, but it made it more bearable.

Art didn’t "fix" my grief, but it helped me live with it. It gave me a way to feel, to remember, and to heal. And in those moments of creation, I found light even in the darkest places.

Periods of Art: Baroque

As an artist today, it’s really easy for me to forget that whatever techniques I have come up with and whatever subject matter I choose to paint, I stand on the shoulders of uncountable artists before me. There is truly nothing new under the sun. Everything has its origins story. So much of my story has to do with art, so I wanted to think through the different periods of art and consider “where I’ve come from”.

I wanted to start with the Baroque period. The Baroque period in art, which lasted from the late 16th century to the early 18th century, was a time of big change and dramatic expression in Europe. It followed the Renaissance, picking up on its achievements but pushing them to new extremes. The style is known for its boldness, emotion, and movement, and it was shaped by major historical events like the Counter-Reformation, the rise of powerful monarchies, and the growing interest in science and exploration.

Baroque artists wanted to create works that made people feel something strong—whether it was awe, wonder, or intense emotion. They used dramatic contrasts of light and dark (called chiaroscuro), vivid colors, and dynamic compositions to bring their paintings, sculptures, and buildings to life. Unlike the calm and balanced art of the Renaissance, Baroque art often felt full of energy and drama, meant to catch the viewer’s attention and stir deep emotions.

Baroque artists wanted to create works that made people feel something strong

A major influence on Baroque art was the Catholic Church, especially during the Counter-Reformation. The Church wanted to inspire people’s faith and showcase its power in the face of the Protestant Reformation. To do this, they commissioned large, powerful works of art that depicted religious scenes with vivid realism. Artists like Caravaggio made Biblical stories feel immediate and relatable by using light to emphasize the emotion of a scene. Sculptors like Gian Lorenzo Bernini created works that invited viewers to step into the action, like his famous “Ecstasy of Saint Teresa,” which combines architecture and sculpture to create an immersive experience.

Baroque architecture also focused on grandeur and movement. Buildings like St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, with its sweeping curves and lavish decorations, reflected the style’s emphasis on awe and splendor.

Artists like Rembrandt and Peter Paul Rubens brought the Baroque style to life in their own ways, using deep emotion and dramatic scenes to make their work stand out. Though the Baroque period eventually gave way to styles like Rococo and Neoclassicism, its influence on Western art remains strong, celebrated for its emotional depth and technical brilliance.

Ornate whispers call,
Motion spins through golden frames—
Grandeur fills the air.

Marketing your Artwork

Here are some thoughts (not really answers) to the age old question: How do I market my artwork. Marketing your artwork involves a combination of creativity, strategy, and understanding your audience. As an artist, it's crucial to develop a unique brand that reflects your artistic style and vision. Start by creating a professional portfolio that showcases your best work. This portfolio can be a physical collection or a digital presence on a website or social media platforms.

Social media is a powerful tool for artists. Platforms like Instagram, Pinterest, and Facebook allow you to share your work with a global audience. Use these platforms to post regularly, engage with your followers, and participate in art-related communities. Posting behind-the-scenes content, progress shots, and stories about your creative process can help build a personal connection with your audience.

Networking is another essential aspect of marketing your artwork. Attend art fairs, exhibitions, and gallery openings to meet other artists, collectors, and potential buyers. Building relationships within the art community can lead to opportunities for collaborations, exhibitions, and sales. Additionally, consider joining local and online art groups to expand your network.

Pricing your artwork appropriately is crucial. You can’t just look at your painting and ask “what do I think it’s worth?” You really have to take the time to research the market and understand how similar works are priced and consider factors such as the cost of materials, time spent, and your reputation as an artist. Offering various price points can attract a wider range of buyers.

“Pricing your artwork appropriately is crucial.”

Creating an email list is an effective way to keep your audience updated on new works, exhibitions, and events. Regular newsletters with exclusive content or special offers can help maintain interest and loyalty.

Lastly, never underestimate the power of storytelling. Share the inspiration behind your pieces, your artistic journey, and what you hope to convey through your art. This narrative can make your artwork more relatable and appealing to potential buyers, helping you stand out in a crowded market.

Like I said, these are not really “answers” but they are thoughts. If you’ve had luck with any other ways of marketing, please leave a comment. I’d love to hear success stories!

Artistic Enlightenment: Lessons from Italy

A couple years ago, my wife Joy and I had the opportunity to visit Italy. And honestly, visiting Italy was like stepping into an artist's dream. The country is a living, breathing gallery, and the experiences I had there have truly transformed my creative process.

Wandering through the Uffizi Gallery in Florence was like meeting the greats—Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Botticelli. Seeing their masterpieces up close taught me that there’s so much value in mastering traditional techniques and understanding art’s historical context. These guys showed me that sometimes, to innovate, you need to have a deep appreciation for the past.

The beauty of Venice, with its crumbling buildings and weathered charm, was a revelation. The city’s worn steps and peeling paint told stories of their own, proving that imperfection adds depth and character to art. This experience encouraged me to embrace flaws in my work and see them as unique features rather than mistakes.

“Honestly, art is everywhere in Italy, and people genuinely cherish it.”

Italy’s landscapes, like the rolling hills of Tuscany and the sunlit Amalfi Coast, were a lesson in color and light. Watching how the colors of the countryside changed with the light of the day helped me grasp the dynamic relationship between color and light in my paintings. The vibrant Mediterranean light has definitely influenced my palette, adding a new warmth and brightness.

Honestly, art is everywhere in Italy, and people genuinely cherish it. From Rome’s art districts to Florence’s artisan workshops, the dedication and passion I encountered were infectious. This immersion reminded me that true artistry isn't just about talent; it’s about persistent dedication to the craft.

One of the biggest takeaways from my Italian adventure was realizing that inspiration can be found anywhere I go. Whether in the grand frescoes of a cathedral in Rome, the elegance of a handmade ceramic in Sulmona, or the lively gestures of street performers in a Bari piazza, Italy taught me to always keep my eyes open. Every moment, no matter how small, can translate into a burst of creativity.

In a nutshell, my journey through “the boot” was a rich tapestry of lessons that will stay with me forever. The history, beauty, passion, and everyday moments I experienced have deeply enriched my creative vision and appreciation for art. I can’t wait to go back!

Why Travel is Crucial for Unleashing Creativity

In today's world, creativity can easily be stifled by routine and the mundane. One of the most effective ways to reignite that creative spark is through travel. I think probably any travel will do. Stepping out of your comfort zone and immersing yourself in new environments can dramatically fuel your creativity in unique and powerful ways.

Exposure

I think the reason travel can ignite creativity is because travel exposes us to different cultures, landscapes, and ways of life. These experiences challenge our existing beliefs and open our minds to new possibilities. Whether it's the vibrant colors of a street market in Morocco, the intricate designs of a European cathedral, or the tranquility of a Japanese garden, these experiences can spark fresh ideas and inspire new artistic directions. The diversity in art forms, architecture, and customs broadens our creative horizons and encourages innovative thinking.

Immersion

Immersing yourself in a new culture provides a wealth of inspiration. By learning about local traditions, tasting new cuisines, and engaging with people from different backgrounds, you enrich your understanding of the world. These experiences provide a rich source of inspiration for artists. Whether it’s the rhythm of a traditional dance, the storytelling methods of indigenous communities, or the patterns in local textiles, cultural immersion stimulates the imagination and brings a fresh perspective to creative endeavors.

Breaking Routine

The other thing is that breaking routine is crucial to a free flow of creativity. Routine is crucial, don’t get me wrong. Routine is comfortable. But routine can also be a significant barrier to creativity. The monotony of everyday life often leads to a mental block, making it difficult to think creatively. Traveling disrupts this routine by introducing new stimuli and experiences. Whether it's a seaside retreat, a mountain hike, or an urban adventure, a change of scenery revitalizes the senses and encourages a new outlook. The unpredictability of travel forces us to adapt and think quickly, often leading to innovative ideas and solutions.

Reconnecting with Nature

Nature has long been a source of inspiration for artists. Travel allows us to reconnect with the natural world, away from the distractions of technology and urban life. The awe-inspiring beauty of a sunset over the Grand Canyon, the serenity of a forest path, or the powerful waves crashing against the shore can evoke deep emotions and inspire creative expression. Spending time in nature nurtures our sense of wonder and encourages artistic exploration.

Travel is a powerful catalyst for creativity. It provides new perspectives, cultural immersion, a break from routine, and a connection with nature. By stepping out of our comfort zones and embracing new experiences, we open ourselves to a world of inspiration. So, pack your bags and set off on an adventure – your creativity will thank you.