#slowcreativity

I recently had the chance to have a chat with Inksy (@inksightstudio) and talk about something a lot of artists quietly struggle with:

finding your style without burning out or comparing yourself into numbness.

We talked about revisiting old artwork, reconnecting with what once felt joyful, and how developing a process can feel grounding rather than restrictive. It was one of those conversations that makes you feel less alone in your creative mess.

If you’ve ever looked at your own work and thought “why doesn’t this feel like me yet?” - this one might resonate.

I’ve shared the full artist feature on the WigglyLines Studio blog. No selling, no advice-giving, just one artist honestly reflecting on her journey and what helped things click again.

✨ Go show her some love if you’re into whimsical, surreal digital art. ✨ And if you’re in a weird in-between phase creatively: you’re not behind.

Some ideas are just meant to be explored for a moment. Some sketches exist only to teach your hands something new. Some projects can stay unfinished and that’s not a failure.

Letting things remain open is part of a slow, kind creative practice.

People often ask what the difference really is between matte and glossy prints. Not in a technical way - more in a how does it feel to live with? kind of way.

Glossy paper is bright and reflective. Colours can pop more at first glance, but it also catches light easily. Fingerprints show. Glare shows. The surface always feels a little present.

Matte paper is quieter.

It absorbs light instead of bouncing it back. Colours feel softer, more grounded. You can look at it from any angle without distraction. It feels intentional rather than shiny-for-the-sake-of-it.

I choose matte because I want my illustrations to feel calm in a space. Something you can sit with, not something that asks for attention every time the light changes.

It also feels better to touch. There’s a softness to it that makes the artwork feel more physical, more real. Less like a screen. More like something made.

Most people talk about art in terms of how it photographs. How it looks on a screen. How it fits a grid.

But for me, paper is something you touch before you ever really see it.

The weight matters. The way it bends, or doesn’t. How it absorbs colour instead of reflecting light back at you.

Thin paper feels temporary. Good paper feels like someone meant it to last.

That’s why I care about texture, thickness, and finish, not as “premium choices” but because they change how art is experienced. A matte surface feels quieter. A heavier sheet feels considered. You don’t rush past it.

In a world where most art lives on screens, I like making things that remind you you’re holding something real.

Most people talk about art in terms of how it photographs. How it looks on a screen. How it fits a grid.

But for me, paper is something you touch before you ever really see it.

The weight matters. The way it bends, or doesn’t. How it absorbs colour instead of reflecting light back at you.

Thin paper feels temporary. Good paper feels like someone meant it to last.

That’s why I care about texture, thickness, and finish, not as “premium choices”, but because they change how art is experienced. A matte surface feels quieter. A heavier sheet feels considered. You don’t rush past it.

In a world where most art lives on screens, I like making things that remind you you’re holding something real.