Please introduce yourself and tell us a little about your path into painting and illustration.
Hi, I'm Meredith. I'm an artist living in Columbia, SC. I've always been a creative person, growing up surrounded by crafty women who taught me how to embroider and sew. The arts have always been my safe and happy place. When I got to college, intimidated by the world of fine art— painting, sculpture, drawing— I decided to study graphic design. After working as a designer and then creative director, I decided to quit my full-time job in 2019 to stay home with my two children. Just four weeks into having a toddler and a newborn, I decided to gather the supplies I had around the house and begin painting.
You began painting during early motherhood as a form of therapy. How did that moment shape the way you approach creativity today?
That's right! Painting was a huge part of me identifying and coping with postpartum depression. When I began painting, it felt like an escape. I was so overwhelmed by my surroundings and responsibilities. There was a shift somewhere around 2021. My mental health had improved, the pandemic had begun to calm, we moved into a new home with a big, green backyard, my children were then 2 and 4 years old. I began painting in my backyard as my children played and painting became a practice that allowed me to connect with my environment rather than escape from it.
Your work often explores rootedness, both physical and spiritual. What does feeling “rooted” mean to you at this stage of life?
Rootedness is a central theme in my work. It is a connection to and acceptance of my present reality— sitting in my backyard, in a little suburban neighborhood, outside of a little city, watching my children play together while my dog lays in a patch of sun and my cat rolls around on the brick steps. Practicing spiritual rootedness, on the other hand, has been somewhat of a homecoming. Like many other people who grew up in the Christian south, I've spent the past six years grappling with my beliefs. Painting has been a way for me to worship God at a time when the church didn't always feel like a safe place— painting plants and animals as a celebration of our innate connection to a creator and other created things.
There’s a strong sense of play and intuition in your process. What helps you let go of control and allow the work to lead?
I can often feel rushed these days, meeting deadlines or pressuring myself to create this super cohesive collection of work. I do have to remind myself that when it's me in front of the canvas, I get to play! The worst that can happen is a bad painting— so what? I get to make another one!
What are your non-negotiable rituals Before Life Happens?
Coffee. Although these days, it's a straight double shot of espresso while my kids get ready for school. Then it's the "hair, teeth, shoes" checklist before we walk out of the door.
You work with layers, textures, and even natural elements like soil and rainwater. What draws you to these materials, and how do they influence the final piece?
I've found that working with natural elements is my favorite way to start any painting. It's humbling, working with my hands, with these things that exist outside of me, outside of man entirely. It takes a little bit of the pressure off of my part in the process, almost like I'm collaborating with this colossal thing so my part isn't that important in the end.
How has becoming a mother shifted your relationship with time, creativity, and self-expression?
Time feels a little bit amorphous as a mom. Even though there are schedules and routines, there are also just so many endless tasks and planning for the future (near and far) that it can feel hard to grasp. I do think that's why painting has become such a pillar in my life because it's how I pause.
At the end of the day, what helps you come back to yourself and feel grounded again?
I've always been so thankful for my husband for his ability to ground me. We met when I was 18, married when I was 21. He is steady and loyal, and able to see me for all I am while keeping me tethered to what really matters.