I’m Sorry For This.

I don’t know if you’re one of my Instagram followers, but if you are, you may have noticed I haven’t been posting much lately. And if you started following me this year, you might just think I’m chronically inactive online. The truth is, at the beginning of 2023, I discovered acrylic pouring, and I fell in love instantly. Once I got the hang of it, I knew I wanted to document my journey.

For the longest time, I was looking for the thing, something visual, something expressive. I flirted with filmmaking for years but never had the courage or consistency to be a content creator. YouTube videos? I’ve made them. But I’d often talk myself out of doing more because I felt embarrassed. It was that weird mix of wanting to be seen but being terrified to show up.

When I found acrylic pouring, I did what I always do when I find something new. I Googled everything. I binged all the artists on YouTube who did these beautiful techniques, and suddenly I knew I could learn this myself. I could make it my own.

And not to pat myself on the back too hard, but after just a few pours, I picked up the concept quickly. Depending on who you ask, most of my beginner paintings were actually decent. That’s when I told myself to record the process. I don’t remember exactly when the mission started, but I was obsessed. Even if I was tired, I promised myself I’d make at least one painting every weekday.

At the start of every month, I’d head to Michaels, buy 20 to 25 canvases, and set aside 30 minutes a day to create. That was all I needed. And while I was painting, I’d film, edit, and try to make each video look cool. Thankfully, my long-time obsession with filmmaking made editing something I actually enjoyed. It wasn’t easy. I hadn’t really posted much on social media before, but I adapted, added my own spin to the trends, and started posting weekly. By the end of 2023, my little 3.5-bedroom apartment was flooded with art. Paintings on the walls, friends hoarding three or four of their favorites, and I had around 200 followers. Humble beginnings, but I was in love with the process.

Then came 2024, and I wanted to infuse more depth into my work. I had been working hard on separating myself from the “I.” That probably needs a footnote, but let’s just say I was going through some conscious inner work. I didn’t just want to paint anymore. I wanted to create something meaningful for people who weren’t just into art but into life itself.

It’s been a journey. I’ve been around all kinds of conversations, both positive and negative. I just wanted to listen. To talk about what is, and what we can do to outgrow the identities we build around it. So, I dove deeper into my art, and by mid-year, I’d created a 21-piece collection inspired by Sydney Banks and Alan Watts. The problem? I couldn’t explain it all in one paragraph. I ended up writing what felt like tiny books for each painting.

In June, I had my first solo exhibition, right as I moved to Montreal from my hometown. A few friends came, and to be honest, it was eye-opening. I had already written long reflections for my pieces, but saying those thoughts out loud was another story. Some of my friends weren’t ready to be hit with that kind of truth. I realized art brings out people’s perceptions, whether they’re ready or not. That realization spun me into a new cycle of self-understanding, which basically consumed the rest of the year.

So, we’ll skip ahead to late 2024. I had moved, created two more collections that no one really asked for, and still somehow people-pleased my way through them. I kept changing so others could understand. Eventually, I cut ties with connections that were feeding my self-doubt. I tossed out every key except the ones that opened doors I actually liked, and I began making new ones.

Okay, maybe I’m not great at skipping parts, but you get the gist. I was still creating and posting, but burnout hit me hard. By 2025, I turned inward. I looked closely at my own emotional barriers and why I react the way I do in moments of anger or anxiety. I reflected deeply. I mapped out my childhood into a timeline and thought, this should be a collection. But as much as I wanted to be raw and real, I couldn’t bring myself to paint all of it. I’ve always been picky with how I represent myself, and I couldn’t force it. I ended up creating five paintings for that collection. They brought me to a deeper understanding of my art and who I want to become through it.

Now, I’m putting the final touches on what might be the last painting of this collection. I had originally planned to create 15 to 20 pieces, but I’ve come to realize I’m more drawn to the concept of perception, how we see, how we interpret, how we assign meaning. I’d rather explore that and stay rooted in the present, especially now that I feel I understand myself and people more deeply, at least at the most basic level.

So, all this to say: I’ve been deeply present in my own life, which made it hard to show up online. But I’m shifting my focus again, because I genuinely care about growth. And real growth? You can’t do it alone, even if part of you still wishes you could.

I am going to create weekly videos again but it won't kill me, so don't worry, I am happy to share my art and be part of a vision you see.

Anyway, hence the title of this blog post. I’m sorry for the long post, for the rant (if that’s what it was), and mostly for not showing up sooner. But if you made it this far, thank you. I admire your attention span. I don’t know what kept you reading. Maybe curiosity? If so, email me. I don’t know many people who would sit through this whole thing, so I’d genuinely love to hear from you. Thanks again.

Camille B.