Crafty, Colourful, and Still Got Something to Say

What Makes Art Sophisticated?

Lately, I’ve been sitting with my insecurities.

There’s a pressure I feel as an artist — to be serious, to be edgy, to be sophisticated. Somewhere along the way, I internalised the idea that colourful, whimsical, novel work can’t be deep or intellectual. That if it isn’t muted or minimalist, it isn’t “serious” art.

Look around: we’re living in a white and grey moment. Our homes are decorated in neutrals — greys, beiges, black and white — because they’re “resellable”, “timeless”, “safe”. Even high street fashion seems stuck on khaki, cream, and concrete tones. There’s nothing wrong with that. But it can feel… limiting. A little same-same.

I work in full colour. And not just that — I use digital tools, a lot. I paint and draw using Adobe Photoshop, a Wacom tablet, and stylus. As AI continues to develop, digital tools are often misunderstood . It is commonly believed that using them makes the process quick, easy, or less valid. There’s a lingering idea that digitally created art isn’t “real art”.

And that’s before I even mention that my work leans towards craft. In the future, I’ll be making quilted wall hangings which means more texture, more softness, more whimsy. So where, in all of that, is the edge? Where’s the depth? What makes it sophisticated?

You could say it doesn’t have to be or have any of those things. However here’s what I’ve come to understand: my strength is in my storytelling. It’s in my style, my curiosity, and the emotional backbone of the things I have to say.

A big shift happened when I discovered Bliss Foster on YouTube. He and his wife Daniella are fashion critics who offer deep, thoughtful commentary on fashion weeks and designer collections. They approach fashion like it’s philosophy, storytelling, and commentary all at once. This new perspective opened something up in me.

It was through their channel that I realised I could think of my collection the way a designer thinks of a runway show. Each artwork is like a “look”—a moment in a bigger story.

Bliss once said that to understand a creative work, you can ask yourself three questions:

1. What goals has the artist set?

2. Has the work achieved or surpassed those goals?

3. How challenging were those goals to achieve in the first place?

Those questions have been a guiding light as I’ve worked on this collection.

One of my biggest goals was to explore the legacy of formative relationships — how those early bonds shape who we become, and how that legacy lives on through us. My Granny Vera and Great Grandma Annie were central to that. They taught me how to be a strong and resilient woman. They taught me how to stay curious, try new things, and embrace colour and pattern. They told stories, cracked jokes, and signed me up for Highland and tap dancing lessons. “We’ve got to get the bairn into things,” Granny Vera would say.

They both had big personalities, and their influence is stitched through every part of my art. This collection isn’t just made from references or technique. It’s made from memory, personality, and lived experience.

I wouldn’t feel fulfilled if I didn’t have something to say with my art. In the early days, I gave myself time to experiment with different mediums, techniques, and styles. I was searching for a practice that had longevity. Something that wouldn’t bore me or box me in.

I used to paint landscapes in a soft, impressionist style. I aspired to paint like Claude Monet. But honestly, it felt hollow. I wasn’t being myself. I was making something that looked the part but didn’t speak for me.

Over time, I’ve come to understand that I don’t want to make work that simply “fits in” or looks impressive. I want to make work that feels true to me. Work that says something.

So, does using colour make my art less serious?

Does working digitally make it less valuable?

Is it too crafty?

Does art need to be dark, abstract, or photorealistic to be considered sophisticated?

No. These are just tools and choices. What matters is how I use them to express something real.

My strength is in my storytelling, my whimsical style, my sense of curiosity, and the emotional messages behind things I have to say. That’s where the depth is. That’s what gives the work its meaning.