Side Stepping the Noise, Dipping in with Intention

As an artist, my world often exists in solitude. Social media offers me a tempting escape - a way to connect - but that connection can be a double-edged sword. Over time, my practice has shifted toward curating what truly supports my life and art. The shift hasn’t happened overnight, but it’s been worth every step.

Some years ago, I began a daily yoga practice - realizing that the work I do in the studio requires strength, endurance, balance, and flexibility, both physically and emotionally. That small act opened the door to meditation. And meditation, in turn, opened my eyes to the power of consciously curating a creative life.

It eventually led me to step back from the noise of social media - not in protest, but in quiet alignment. Yes, there are uplifting posts - beautiful artwork, adorable animals, inspiring stories, incredible dance moves…. But there are also pools of noise that are dark and/or misleading - crafted to draw us in beyond a simple glance.

Politics - both weapon and lightning rod - is often hurled into the social media feed, carrying a message designed to provoke. It urges us to take sides, to react. And once you do, it doesn’t let go. It lingers. It feeds on unsettled energy and asks for more. The position you take matters less than the cost - the toll it takes on the delicate ecosystem of your art practice.

Richard Misrach – Wall, Near Los Indios, Texas, 2015 from the Borderland Series

That’s not to say artists who engage in social commentary aren’t needed—many light the way for deeper understanding, empathy, and critical thought. Photographers like Richard Misrach come to mind—his work bears witness without shouting, offering space for reflection. Kara Walker, in contrast, confronts history head-on, using stark silhouettes to challenge, disturb, and awaken. Art that responds to the world with clarity and courage holds a vital place in our culture. But for me, the emotional charge of social topics on social media—the urgency, outrage, and reactivity—felt misaligned with the space I need to create from.

Artists need fertile ground to live up to the responsibility of being artists. That means caring deeply about what enters our minds, our homes, our studios. Developing sensitivity to materials, to the work, is part of the process. it’s a dialogue between the artist and the subject, the journey of discovering your voice. And it must be safeguarded against the platforms built for addictive distraction.

What ultimately solidified my decision to step back were posts shared by friends and family—people I love and respect. To be fair, most were reposts; still, they were filled with anger or harsh reactions to the political climate. That energy lodged itself in me. It was subtle but persistent, pulling me away from the quiet center I depend on to create.

Over time, I started to notice something else—something more personal. In scrolling through those posts, especially the ones steeped in outrage or cynicism, I began to see my own reactions mirrored back at me. And honestly, I didn’t love what I saw. It wasn’t just that I disagreed with the tone—it was the energy I felt rising in me. Tight. Judging. Defensive. I realized I was slipping into the same current.

It’s a bit like cooking. Once a strong seasoning is added, it flavors the entire dish - you can’t easily remove it. You might try to cover it up, but it lingers. The same is true for the energy we allow into our lives. Curating what enters your world - what you consume, engage with, surround yourself with - is an act of self-respect. It doesn’t mean turning away from reality or living with your head in the sand. It means choosing not to feed on anger, ugliness, or violence.

By choosing quiet, I made space for depth - for stillness - for my own voice to rise without interruption. It’s not about turning away from the world, but turning inward toward the terrain where my work begins. In protecting that space, I haven’t lost connection - I’ve found more meaningful ones.

It’s the way I’ve found to stay grounded, connected, and true to my creative life in a world that often feels loud and divided.

This doesn’t mean I’m disappearing from the conversation. I’m simply choosing a different path through it, one that steps around the divisiveness and leans toward what’s enduring and nourishing. I’ll still be contributing to the stream, but in a way that speaks to the deeper current—creativity, beauty, the better side of us. Not to escape the world, but to remind myself (and maybe others) that there’s still goodness to lean into.

(And just to be transparent - I still catch myself scrolling. I still feel the pull.

But noticing it is part of the shift. Awareness builds strength, one quiet decision at a time.)

If you're drawn to quiet thought and creative reflection, I’ve begun a new series on Instagram called Artist’s Compass. These are simple, intentional posts—quotes and insights to help center your week and reconnect with your creative self.

You can follow along on my Instagram page.