Some of my thoughts and newsletters are shared only with subscribers, making them extra special and exclusive. So be sure to subscribe so you can read all the letters :)
(note: announcements from the void, updates, & little silly things are at the end).
I just turned 26 on Monday! As I’ve been reflecting on my 20’s, I’ve finally realized the main reason I turned to art when I did. I’m sure when we all look back on choices we’ve made in our personal or career journeys, we better understand them after time passes through.
I’ve always been a creative person, but I didn’t truly begin my journey as a “real” artist with a consistent creative habit until five years ago, when I was 20 and had just moved back to the US from Ireland.
During college, I lived in three different countries: At 18, I graduated high school and studied at Maynooth University in County Kildare, Ireland. Then, at 20, after spending a year in the US studying at UNCW, I lived in Vancouver, Canada for the summer before moving back to Ireland; I transferred away from UNCW to attend University College Dublin—convinced I’d stay in Ireland forever. But things didn’t unfold as I’d imagined, and eventually, I returned to UNCW.
In college, between the three countries, I lived in 7 different apartments. I moved every single semester except one (not counting the moves home in the summer). So, naturally, my 4 years in college felt like a hilly rollercoaster.
Here's 19-year-old me in Dublin :)
Universities in the US and Europe are very different: teaching styles, classroom spaces, cultural norms, social tendencies—everything felt different. Looking back on these uprooted years constantly moving from base to base, I now realize how anxious and distressed I was.
If you’ve ever traveled abroad, you’re probably familiar with the stereotypes that other countries often place on American travelers. Whether it's the perception of Americans as loud, ignorant, or overly confident, these assumptions can feel heavy when you're trying to build authentic connections in a foreign culture. (And dont worry: I know these stereotypes can be true.) But I made every effort to avoid fitting into these molds, doing my best to be open-minded and adaptable, but when I lived in Ireland and visited other European countries, I struggled to find peers who saw me for who I truly was, rather than just this American stereotype I was often associated with.
It became an exhausting cycle. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t just a caricature of what they thought an American was, but in doing so, I became more self-conscious of my identity. I wasn’t just an American, I was also simply a person—someone trying to make sense of the world and my place in it. But over time, I started to feel like I was slipping into a shell of myself. I found myself pulling away from personality, trying so hard to adapt to the expectations and perceptions of others that I lost sight of who I was beneath the surface.
I was really afraid to approach my Irish peers or speak up in class. I loathed my American clothes, as they made me stand out. I remember I once told a girl I met at a bar that I was from Canada. In the hopes of finding connections, I was simultanously probably not letting anyone in as I became quiet, withdrawn, and distant.
My best friend Chesney always told me how much she loved my “weirdness.” And when she found out one of my goals entering our eighth-grade year was to “stop being so weird,” she reminded me to “never ever ever change Gerbie! That’s my favorite part about you.” I always had Chesney by my side in middle and highschool—and luckily enough, at UNCW too. When I would make weird noises or do whatever it was that may not have been quote, unquote “normal” for a teenage girl to do, she would remind those around us: “that’s just what Grayson does! You’ll get used to it” And I would instantly feel less afraid to be myself.
What I needed most in those moments living in Ireland—more than anything—was stability. I needed a sense of home, both externally in the world around me and internally, within myself. That feeling of being grounded seemed elusive, and I longed to find a place and a sense of self where I wasn’t constantly questioning my worth or identity as just Grayson. Instead of this new “American” Grayson I was constantly being attached to. I felt like I was drifting, uncertain of where I truly belonged.
I think the years between 18 and 21 are formative for developing an adult identity. Living between countries during this period, I often felt like I was straddling two identities—one rooted in my North Carolina upbringing, the other shaped by my longing to feel understood and accepted. These identities bled into each other, making it harder to understand where I truly belonged, both in America and in Ireland. The combination of adult challenges and cultural confusion aggravated this sense of confidence I thought I would feel at this age.
My life felt scrambled. Yet, I was the one who chose to live in Ireland and leave home. So, this decision confused my sense of direction as I kept packing up and crossing the Atlantic every two years.
I don’t think I truly understood how much I missed the comfort of loving community and self-esteem in my identity.
When I told people why I left Ireland, I often said I “didn’t have what it took to survive as an American in Ireland.” Visitors would tell me about the warmth they experienced, and that was valid too. But I think it’s important to recognize that you need more than a short visit to fully understand a place. And that we all have vastly different experiences, even if we go to the exact same place.
(It's important for me to note that I did meet some amazing Irish people and made some friendships along the way. I'm grateful for them. However, despite these wonderful connections, I still struggled to fully find my place, often feeling caught between two identities)
I know my experience is just one story, and it’s not the universal truth about life in Ireland for Americans. But in hindsight, the lessons I learned go far beyond that.
Looking back at those years, I can now see how my craving for solid ground and cultural anchoring pushed me toward a deeper need to create. Since returning to the US the last time, creating has become the most consistent and normal part of my life.
Artmaking has been dependable and given me time to make sense of my life. Without the constant uprooting of my identity, belongings, and education, I don’t think I would be an artist right now. Maybe I wouldn’t need it as badly as I did. Maybe I would not have never turned to personal creative urges, because I already felt rooted in something else.
To set the scene for the beginning of a new chapter: I’m back in Wilmington, it’s my junior year, February 2020, just weeks before COVID hit. I was determined to stay and finish school as a Seahawk studying Professional Writing. Though I was excited to be back in Wilmington, I still felt those lingering anxieties and fears surrounding identity and belonging.
I remember feeling viscerally anxious walking around the UNCW campus. And after leaving a friend's house, I felt like my character might be talked bad about or people might be making fun of me. I was very paranoid of myself.
I first took up doodling on my iPad. I started making floral portrait sketches of women on Adobe Draw. I sketched and traced family members and friends' faces. I got a commission from a friend at UNCW to do a self-portrait of him. I got paid $20 dollars! Whoop whoop! I made prints of my digital drawings and sold a few to friends over Instagram DM. Little did I know these first interactions with public-facing art would teach me so much.
Some of my digital drawings from this chapter of life.
Though digital art was fun, I wanted more space than my 9-inch screen could offer. So, I bought a canvas from Michaels and tried painting. My first painting was Woman in Winter, which ended up selling three years later to Jamie Pressley (yes, the actress from My Name is Earl—I still find that funny).
For the next several months, I painted right next to my bed. I stained the carpet, walls, and sometimes used my hands to smear paint across the canvas (which I wouldn’t do now knowing the toxic chemicals in paint). I painted pet portraits for a few people, played with different styles, and enjoyed my alone time with the paintbrush.
I finally felt like I had a purpose outside of being a student. I was falling in love with creating and the freedom of it all. I posted my art on Instagram and had a tight-knit community of supporters that truly gave me so much comfort.
After two more years of adjusting back to American life, around the age of 22, I was beginning a new phase of my discovery as an adult. I no longer felt afraid of my identity. I started discovering and exploring it through my art.
Most importantly, I no longer felt like a “visitor” going through the phases of my life.
It was through those first digital drawings, through my first messy paintings, through every failure and success, that I started to uncover something deeper about myself. I realized that creating wasn’t just a hobby or a distraction from the world—it gave me a sense of being. It was how I could make sense of everything that had happened and everything I was still trying to understand. LIFE!
This new phase of understanding myself opened up my life. I learned that my sensitivity wasn’t a flaw, but something to embrace. I learned that I loved writing and research, and that there were career opportunities in those passions. I discovered why I loved mystical, magical worlds and clung onto films such as Bridge to Terabithia. I ventured into my first business partnership in Wilmington and learned I could be a strong businesswoman while staying playful and curious. I faced my fear of public speaking when I became a TA in grad school. Granted, I got my Master’s Degree in English—only having read maybe 3 books front to back (that’s a story for another day!).
Alongside all of these new and amazing layers to my life, I fully immersed myself in my art, wanted to get better at it, and learned what it meant to me.
When I look back on the early stages of my work, the foundations of what I felt drawn to create still remain in my work today. The main difference between 26-year-old GERB and 20-year-old GERB lies in the deeper understanding of knowing why I need to create today.
My reason feels more complex. I am more engrossed and obsessed. I understand my tools better. My work is more connected to me. My work feels like me… an extension, but also me. And I know, 10 years from now, I’ll look back with even more insight, more reasons, and different art.
From that 3 year period of feeling helplessly uprooted and afraid, a creative practice was formed. And a deep urge to understand the “why” of things was instilled in me. Why do I paint this? Why do I like these things? Why do I react in this way? Why do I need to paint?
I’m grateful I’ve become wrapped up in the “why” of things. I want to remain curious about life. Why things turn out the way they do and why decisions are made. I want to continue to discover and explore. I don’t want to just be merely a visitor of my life.
Now, looking back on my period abroad, I am grateful for it. I think I needed the experience of having my identity and my comfort questioned. I think I’m more ready to be tested and deal with the uncertainties that come with being an adult now.
Artmaking keeps me curious, intentional, and alive. The process of turning ideas into tangible creations makes me feel connected to my body and mind. I’m so thankful I turned to art when I did, and I know I’ll always feel this way.
Before I go, I have announcements & nostalgia to share :)
Announcements!
I am going to two more art fairs! One is in Urbanna, VA and the other in Chicago! Both are in June. So, that makes four fairs so far this spring/summer. I'm very eager to find out if I made it to the fair in Blowing Rock. I hear good things about those fairs up there.
I didn't make it into the fair in Columbus and another in Chicago. More fuel to the fire for next year!
I dropped of my work at Counter in Charlotte! I enjoyed my time behind the wheel of my 12-foot yellow penske box truck. Those trucks are seriously fun to drive. The crowd at Counter seemed really excited as they saw the pieces roll in. The surfboard "Strawberry Moon," and the two paintings "Smooth Chordgrass" and "Where Did The Sun Go?" will be for sale at Counter till May. I'm so grateful!
Originally, I thought I might incorporate "Carolina Moon" into this title. Something like "Under the Carolina Moon." But towards the end of the painting process, it wasnt feeling right. To me, this painting takes place in the marshland of NC. But also has this eerie, mystical layer that removes it from the reality of actually exiting in real life. So, I think the title "Where Did The Sun Go?" evokes more of this feeling while also setting the painting in the night. Just like my night-based collection "The Garden That Never Sleeps," I get the same mysterious feeling from this dark purple sky.
Counter is such a cool restaurant! Patrons go through many phases and rooms throughout their dining journey. I was in awe as I dropped off the pieces at the space itself. Such a creative design.
Little Fun Slices of Nostalgia
I enjoy writing about the little things that have phased out for technological or maturation reasons. My grandpa also really likes to reminisce. There's something special in it, I think.
I have these vivid memories of perusing the aisles of Blockbuster with my mom. I liked the smell of the store—a mix of short grey carpet and plastic cases. If I was not attached to her hip, we’d separate into our age-grouped aisles and go around the store looking at the DVD covers. The act of physically selecting the movie and carrying the treasure home intensified my excitement for movie time. I don’t remember the last time I went into a Blockbuster, which makes me a little sad. I’ve always liked remembering the first or last time I did something.
I wasn’t a strong reader growing up. I stayed on Level 1 reading books for quite some time. So, I felt like watching movies was the most accessible way to explore new worlds. Maybe that’s why I’m still captivated by the fantasy films I loved as a child, like Narnia, Because of Winn-Dixie, Bridge to Terabithia, and The Chronicles of Spiderwick. They were my windows into new places!
Blockbuster shut down in 2014 (WHAT!), the same year Interstellar came out. So really, this really isn’t too far away. I really do miss physical media. I think with our shorter attention spans and how fast trends and technology move, 10 years ago seems like it was a lifetime ago.
One day, I hope to have a cozy media room with a collection of DVDs. One of my favorite parts of movie time was pressing the eject button and watching the tray pop out, ready for its shiny disc. Sometimes, I’d just press it over and over again because the little robot inside was too cute to resist.
I remember the last time I had fun playing on the playground. In 4th grade, I slowly transitioned from monkey bars and building woodchip clay castles to strictly swinging. The 5th grade girls hung out on the swings, played tetherball, or walked the track. Most other things were off limits as we’d outgrown them. I remember looking down at the playground from the upper field at my elementary school and being like “dang, I wish playing on the slide was still fun like it used to be.”
Then as you know, you head into 6th grade, and “recess” is limited to walking the track or standing in pods of your peers talking about whatever it is that 6th graders talk about! There was no playground in sight! But deep down, I think I missed the jungle gym. But I also was ready to take on this new version of play… social play I suppose!
Do you remember when fro-yo places suddenly were popping out of nowhere around 2011? I’m not sure if this was just a North Carolina thing, but suddenly, we had all these new frozen yogurt businesses over Charlotte and I WAS ABOUT IT. My favorite spot was Sweet Frog, which was in the same strip mall as Blockbuster and Qdoba. On a lucky day, my mom let us hit all three. I loved filling my cup with all the toppings, even though my mom always warned me about not going over a certain weight.
Jack and I recently had frozen yogurt for the first time in what felt like 10 years. It was such a fun blast from the past. We went two nights in a row to the same place, and we told the nice worker, “We’re back for more!”
The enchanted forts! I’m sure we all miss the days of building forts. No matter how simple or haphazard they were, they were always magical. My older sister Savannah and I built the coolest fort in our backyard, perched on the cliffside overlooking the lake. There were no walls made of sticks, no doors, or roofs—just our imaginations. We swept the ground to clear the leaves, and once you passed through a few trees, you entered the “living room” or “Grayson’s bedroom.” Each “room” was maybe 3 feet by 3 feet, but they felt worlds apart from the rest of the yard. We even rigged a pulley system with a rope and bucket so we could pass things back and forth. We buried a few cans of Chef Boyardee SpaghettiOs, some clothes, a compass, and a few other odds and ends (our little survival stash if you will), just in case we ever needed to dig it up and run away. I’m pretty sure those treasures are still buried there, somewhere on the property. I really loved that fort.
I hope you have a wonderful weekend. We made it to Friday!
Thank you for reading and being here! I feel lucky to have you here.
In my next newsletter, I will have to give the update on how my first art fair goes down in Georgia! Exciting :)
Some of my thoughts and newsletters are shared only with subscribers, making them extra special and exclusive. So be sure to subscribe so you can read all the letters :)
