A Letter To My Mother

Mom,

I’ve been trying to find the right words for this, but somehow they never feel big enough for what you’ve been in my life.

So I’ll just speak from my heart.

Before I ever picked up a paintbrush, before I understood what it meant to create something from nothing… there was you.

You taught me how to see the world differently.

Not in loud, obvious ways—but in quiet moments. In the way you noticed the small things. The way you found beauty in places most people would pass by without a second glance. The way you carried strength so gracefully, even when life wasn’t easy.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was my first lesson in art.

Because art isn’t just paint on a canvas—it’s the ability to feel deeply, to notice, to hold onto something meaningful and bring it to life. And that’s exactly what you showed me how to do.

There are pieces I’ve created where I can feel you in them.

In the softness of a face.
In the strength behind a subject’s eyes.
In the emotion that lives just beneath the surface.

That comes from you.

You gave me more than encouragement—you gave me the foundation of how I see the world. And everything I create is built on that.

Even the themes I’m drawn to… innocence, protection, emotion… they all trace back to the way you loved, the way you cared, the way you made the people around you feel safe and seen.

I carry that with me every time I paint.

I don’t say it enough, but thank you.

Thank you for the quiet sacrifices I didn’t notice then.
Thank you for the strength you showed when I didn’t understand how much it took.
Thank you for shaping not just who I am—but how I see, how I feel, and how I create.

If my art ever makes someone stop… feel something… remember something…
a part of that belongs to you.

Because you are in every brushstroke, whether people know it or not.

I love you.

Happy Mother’s Day.

— J. Erin