The past six months have been nothing short of transformative, both freeing and vulnerable in ways I could never have anticipated. After intentionally wandering with Millicent, my endearing van, I let her go, marking the end of a chapter that carried me across every state in the nation, with a paintbrush in one hand and a literal atlas in the other.
Selling my house and Millicent was like shedding an old, beloved skin.
There’s an exhilaration in letting go of anchors and saying goodbye to objects that feel like limbs—but it’s a paradox, too, as I’m left weightless, and sometimes unnervingly adrift. That freedom, as thrilling as it was, brought a new kind of vulnerability. It was the sensation of floating, unbound and light, but exposed, as if the world could turn me in any direction at any moment.
This summer, untethered by walls and a front door, I took the opportunity to pour myself fully into my art. I traveled to France, breathing in its landscapes and light, immersing myself in my family history. Finding inspiration in places that, centuries ago, inspired so many and where I watched my own mother paint during my youth.
There, I created with a renewed intensity,
each stroke capturing the essence of my journey.
Painting in my cousin Sandrine’s home in Villegats, France.
My mother painting in France 25 years ago.
Then came the last leg of my tour, taking me to Hawaii, where I would complete my goal of painting in all 50 states. When I crossed that finish line, though, it wasn’t the surge of accomplishment I had imagined—it was something quieter, almost anticlimactic. A type of relief, mixed with a bone-deep exhaustion. Maybe the satisfaction will arrive in retrospect, that delayed wave we sometimes experience with hard-won achievements.
And then, after months of feeling unmoored, I found myself doing the unexpected: buying a big house in Athens, Georgia, drawn in by the space, especially the art studio, even though it felt almost absurd to move from a van to a sprawling property. The openness and quietness of the house is still unfamiliar. After Millicent’s snug quarters, this new home feels almost daunting. It’s as though the rooms carry their own expectations, challenging me to fill them with the same sense of purpose and creativity I’d found on the road.
Taking time to smell the flowers in Giverny, France. Home to the famous Impressionist artist, Claude Monet.
The fall semester brought me back to the classroom, where I am teaching hundreds of students at Georgia State University about the art and science of professional sales. There’s a unique beauty in these moments, guiding and seeing sparks of potential in each of them. Building this program is a labor of love, a craft of its own. With each lesson, I feel a strange synthesis of my journey—the independence and adventure of the open road, now tethered to a steady pursuit.
This fall also brought unexpected but rewarding opportunities to share my journey on camera. I traveled to Orlando, Florida, to sit down with Amy Sweezey and the team from Growing Bolder, who interviewed me about completing my 50-state journey in Millicent. Telling my story to an audience that thrives on tales of resilience and growth felt deeply fulfilling. Shortly after, the University System of Georgia invited me to be filmed for a class designed for incoming students across the state. I was honored to share my experiences with young minds just beginning their own journeys, both academically and personally. These interviews brought a renewed energy, and I found myself inspired by the exchange.
There’s something powerful about storytelling in this format,
and I hope to continue exploring more opportunities to connect in this way.
To watch MY Growing Bolder interview, click here.
Blog post continued below.
Growing Bolder interview with Amy Sweezey.
Filming for the University Systems of Georgia.
As fulfilling as this journey has been, it also highlighted one of the harder truths about life on the road: the absence of community. I miss you, my friends, and the familiar rhythm of connection that roots us in place. Travel brings growth, but it can also leave us longing for those steady, grounding ties. Now, as I settle into this new chapter,
I am eager to rebuild that sense of community around me,
balancing the freedom of movement with the comfort of belonging.
Leaning into new landscapes, both physical and mental, is the artist’s journey. As I settle in, my art and teaching will continue to evolve, so will I.
It’s a journey without a finish line—just a boundless stretch of possibility ahead…
My students in the Marketing Meets Sales Competition at Georgia State University. (Can you find me in the picture?)
Student leaders of the Sales Club at Georgia State University.
It’s a journey without a finish line—just a boundless stretch of possibility ahead…