I Stopped Painting for 5 Years — How Nature Brought Me Back to Art (My artist’s story)
How earth pigments, plants, and pastels helped me find my way back to art
In my twenties, after several years away from painting and drawing, I found my way back to creativity through the natural world around me. This is the story of how earth pigments, plant inks, and then pastels helped me reconnect with art; and ultimately, with myself.
My Artistic Roots: How Nature Shaped My Creative Path
I’ve been drawing and painting since I was a child. Art was my way to explore, to feel safe, and to understand the world. I had the privilege of taking art classes after school for a few years; and as a teenager I secretly dreamed of one day having my own studio.
But in my twenties, for almost five years, I hardly painted or sketched. Even if I stayed creative in other ways with writing poetry about the biodiversity that surrounds me, taking photos of trees and landscapes, or making basketry; I didn’t know it at the time, but I had stepped away from a part of myself that I deeply needed.
My relationship with the natural world has always gone beyond observation. I studied agriculture, worked in animal care and organic farm, and later became a naturopath with a deep love for herbalism. Plants, soil, animals, they were never subjects or things around me. They were my companions, my teachers, and living beings who understood me better than humans.
Rediscovering Art with Earth Pigments and Natural Materials
Around 2018, I found my way back to art through an unexpected doorway: earth pigments. I began foraging for ochres, clays, and minerals on walks through fields and forests, learning how to grind, sift, and prepare them into my own paints. It was slow, tactile work, and deeply grounding.
I wasn’t just creating colors; I was connecting with the land in a way I missed more than ever. Each little jar of pigment held a place, a memory, a piece of the natural world who co-created with me.
Earth pigments color tests at the river.
Exploring Plant-Based Inks: Painting with Living Colors
Alongside this, I experimented with plant inks. I gathered flowers, seeds, and leaves on my walks, simmering them gently to coax out their hidden colors onto paper.
Plants were literally living colors. I was captivated by the magic of modifiers, how a simple shift in pH could turn an ink from deep brown to bright pink, from dusty yellow to soft green. It felt like alchemy.
At that time, my work was mostly abstract, pure color and texture, alive with the presence of the Earth herself. It wasn’t about composition or subject matter; it was about relationship. Working with plant inks was more than just a creative experiment; it was about letting the textures and hues speak for themselves, like a conversation with nature.
Every hue came with its own story: the deep green of artemisia leaves, the rough song of the red clay, and the pink whispers of rumex seeds. All these natural inks and powders taught me patience and presence, watching colors emerge slowly, listening the land stories behind, knowing it might fade or transform.
My work with earth pigments and plant inks was never just about making colors. It was a way of honoring the land, a practice rooted in animism, bioregionalism, ecofeminism, and my lifelong connection to plants and animals.
Though my health eventually limited how much I could continue foraging plants and pigments and preparing them; this practice deepened even more my connection to the living world and continues to influence the way I approach color and texture in my work today.
How Art Became My Lifeline During an autistic Burnout and the Pandemic
Then the pandemic hit, and alongside it a severe autistic burnout that left me physically and mentally struggled. My world shrank to its smallest circle. Even the things I loved felt out of reach.
But art, even in the smallest, simplest forms, became my lifeline. I couldn’t manage the labor of foraging or pigment-making anymore, but I could still create. So I turned to traditional art supplies: at first a small palette of earth-pigment watercolors from Case for Making, and then later gouache, as I searched for more opacity. These small acts of painting became quiet moments of survival on paper.
Case for Making earth pigment palette.
Finding My Voice Through Pastels and New Art Supplies
When I discovered Caran d’Ache Neocolor II wax pastels, everything changed. It felt like coming home. Their texture, their opacity, their immediacy; it was love at first mark. I could finally create something that felt alive without the physical strain of mixing and preparing.
At first, I drew in tiny sketchbooks, one small sketch at a time. Slowly, as my health and energy improved, I moved on to larger works on paper, exploring color, texture, and form in ways that felt expansive and healing.
I began experimenting with oil pastels and acrylics too, slowly building a color palette that felt like my own.
This was more than a return to art, it was a return to myself. When I transitioned to traditional art supplies (gouache, pastels, acrylics) that physical connection to the land shifted. These art supplies are industrial and synthetic, and so my focus turned to what I painted: flowers, landscapes, animals; ways to continue the conversation with Earth.
Growing My Artistic Practice: From Survival to Devotion
My current work may appear decorative, folk-inspired still lifes, cottagecore florals, contemporary landscapes, but they carry the same conversation I began with minerals and plants: a dialogue with the living world. Through joyful layers of color and texture, I try to offer a place to rest; a reminder of what is rooted and alive.
Art is my way of honoring the Earth that has always carried me.
Photo by Laura Wencker © 2019
An Invitation to Connect: Explore My Work and Journey
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading my story.
As a disabled artist, my work grows slowly; one sketch, one layer, one painting at a time. But in that slowness, something essential emerges: art that carries the same grounded, steady rhythm as the Earth herself.
If my work resonates with you, I’d love for you to stay connected through my newsletter, where I share reflections and behind‑the‑scenes glimpses of my studio life; or by exploring my shop, where my originals and prints find their new homes. And if you’re a gallery, curator, or collector interested in collaboration, please feel free to get in touch.
Thank you for being here and for supporting my practice.
All words and images © Julie Austin, unless otherwise noted.
Please do not copy, or use them without permission.
If you'd like to share, kindly link back to this page and credit my work.