Inspiration

The Brush Between Worlds
Tucked between a subway entrance and a glass-fronted café in the heart of the city stood a small, unassuming studio with peeling blue paint and a hand-lettered sign: Zehra’s Corner – Paint. Breathe. Be.
By meerjanan5 months ago in Art
Art as a Medium for Personal Mythology
What if every dab of paint could tell the world who you really are? In a crumbling Victorian house in New Orleans, Lila Moreau found her refuge in a dusty attic. At 32, she was just another barista pouring coffee for strangers, fading into the background of a noisy city. But when she climbed those creaky stairs to her makeshift studio, paintbrush in hand, Lila transformed. Her canvas became a mirror, reflecting a mythology she was only beginning to understand—a story of strength, dreams, and a life she was scared to claim.
By Thomas6 months ago in Art
“The Color He Never Used”
In a quiet corner of the city, where the hum of traffic never quite faded and laundry lines strung between buildings like tangled flags, there lived a man named Kamran. Once, his name was spoken with reverence in galleries and studios—“Kamran, the painter who captures silence,” they’d say. His work had a way of holding breath, of making people pause, stare, and remember something long forgotten.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
“The Last Canvas”
On the edge of a quiet coastal village, where the sea whispered against the rocks and the air always carried a hint of salt and jasmine, lived an old man named Rahim. Once, his name had been spoken with reverence—“Rahim the Painter,” they called him, the man who could make waves dance on canvas and sunsets breathe.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
Why Blown Away on Netflix Is the Cosy Competition Show You Need to Watch
I’ve just finished season 4 of one of my favourite competition shows. *Blown Away* is set in North America and each season, ten glassblowers compete to be *Best in Glass*. Each week there is a challenge, and someone gets sent home.
By Sarah Tinney6 months ago in Art
*The Colors She Left Behind*
The studio stood like a secret the city had forgotten. Tucked between a shuttered tailor shop and a noisy laundromat, its windows were clouded with dust, its wooden sign—once proudly carved with the name Studio Lumière—now barely legible. Rain had warped the letters, time had faded the paint, and ivy crept up one side like a slow apology.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
influential. Content Warning.
Light of life. Transient and colorful. What others see in you, re-flames sparks within them. Hold on to that truthful torch, as you go.
By Sfiso Mpangane6 months ago in Art
*The Color She Couldn’t Name*
In a narrow lane where the scent of warm bread curled through the morning air and the tailor’s sewing machine clicked like a steady heartbeat, there stood a quiet little studio with peeling paint and a rusted door handle. Its sign, once bold in cursive—Meher Art Studio—had faded into near silence, as if the building itself had learned to whisper.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
"Say It Right"
There’s an old saying: “It’s not just what you say, but how you say it.” In a world constantly buzzing with communication—texts, tweets, conversations, arguments—how often do we pause and think before we speak? Do we really say what we mean to say? Do we speak with care, with clarity, with courage? Or do we let emotions take the lead and regret follow closely behind?
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
The Power of Words
There is a force more powerful than fists, louder than shouts, and longer-lasting than memories: words. Spoken or written, whispered or declared, words carry the weight to heal or to harm, to build or to break. They are tools we all possess, yet few understand the true power they hold. This is a story—and a reflection—on the invisible but undeniable strength of words.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
"The Weight of Water"
In a drought-stricken village on the edge of the Thar Desert, where the earth was cracked like old pottery and the sun burned without mercy, a twelve-year-old girl named Meera walked the same path every morning. Her day began long before the sky turned gold. With a tin bucket balanced on her head and cracked slippers on her feet, she began the three-kilometer trek to the nearest well.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
The Darkness Had Won. Content Warning.
The Dallas heat hit me like a betrayal. I stepped off the Greyhound, dragging a tattered suitcase behind me. California had promised dreams—but all I found were nightmares and an emptiness I tried to fill with powder and pills.
By Jordyn Click6 months ago in Art