How to Make Your Wedding Feel Personal

When my husband and I were planning our wedding, while we wanted everything to look and feel beautiful, we most importantly wanted it to feel like us. We've all been to those weddings - where you could nearly swap the bride and groom out for a different couple, and no one would notice. But, as artists ourselves and people who have both walked the path less traveled in life, it was super important that our wedding reflected our personalities and love story. I like to think we were pretty successful in doing so, and here are a few approaches I'd suggest if you are of a similar mindset.

1. Focus on storytelling over aesthetics.

A lot of the decisions you make around your wedding will seem to center around how everything looks - from the florals to the tablescapes to the bridesmaids' dresses. And while the aesthetics are obviously important (I do a design wedding stationery after all), if you want your wedding to feel personal, you have to focus more on how things feel and less on how things look, and a great way to do that is through storytelling.

Use every opportunity you can to tell the story of who you each are - as individuals and as a couple. This will immediately make your wedding yours and yours alone. This can look like getting personalized stationery with imagery you are known for, turning the first text your partner ever sent you into custom cocktail napkins, or simply having your officiant tell the story of how you met.

2. Choose vendors you connect with.

This may seem obvious, but when you go to pick your vendors, there can be so much pressure to lock someone in who comes highly recommended, and to do it yesterday. Just make sure to check in with yourself - Do I vibe with this person? Do they seem to understand me and my partner?

While it's important to focus on the product they deliver (their photos, their florals, etc) it's also important to focus on how they are delivering it, who they are and how you connect with them. Because, at the end of the day, your vendors are going to be holding the torch for how you want your wedding to go, and witnessing you in some very intimate moments. You want to feel comfortable with them and you want to know that they get you!

(We did an AMAZING job at this with our wedding and if you are getting married on Nantucket and need incredible vendor recs I'm you girl)

3. Carry a creative thread throughout your planning process.

You don't have to be an artist to add your signature touch to your wedding day. Whether you want to hand paint the place cards or make all the ceramics or coordinate a surprise flash mob during the reception, find one thing you want to DIY on your wedding day, and use it as a creative outlet throughout your planning process. It will help your guests feel the YOU in your wedding, and it will also be a great respite to return to when you inevitably get tired of looking at spreadsheets.

What are you doing to add a personal touch on your wedding day? Leave a comment below!

My Journey from Spoken Word Poet to Wedding Stationery Designer

I recently shared on my Instagram a bit more on my personal journey, from spoken word poet to wedding stationery designer. As a poet, I often wrote about my struggles in relationship - my words at once deep and moving, as well as dark and intense. Now, after a roundabout journey and many stops and starts, I somehow find myself designing wedding stationery, helping people tell their love stories through colorful artwork. I truly never dreamed I’d be doing this, but looking back, it makes total sense. And the symbolism of the whole thing is not lost on me - how I am now transforming my own darkness to light.

So, why is this of interest to you? Well, I always love knowing the stories of people I follow and work with - and I hope you do too! But, mostly, if you’re planning your wedding, while you may not have gone through the same struggles that I did, it’s likely that this is a big step for you - whether you have family drama you worry will come up, fears of abandonment/divorce, or if you just find the whole process incredibly stressful - and something about sending a Save the Date or invite and saying to the universe, to all your loved ones, and to yourself, that you’re really doing this, is scary. It’s exciting and wonderful, but it’s also scary. And I am someone who understands that intimately.

Most of what you’ll see and hear as you plan your wedding is about the good stuff, the celebrations, the happy ever afters - but weddings can also bring up a lot. And so, if you’re looking for someone with a sensitivity to that, I’m your girl. I am so excited to celebrate your unique love story with the happiest, most playful and fun stationery ever - but know that there is room to honor the struggles that may have come before, too.

Here’s to loving every step of the journey.

What to Include in your Wedding Stationery

You’ve probably googled this before and given yourself a minor aneurysm. There’s a lot that can go into wedding stationery - but I’m here to remind you that not everything has to. Take a deep breath. Remember - it’s 2024. You did not hire Emily Post as your wedding planner. This is your wedding, and you only have to include what feels important to YOU (and 1-2 people whose opinion really matters to you, like your fiancé and your mom, for example).

These days there are so many different ways people approach their invitations - from sending digital invites with music accompanying, to putting all the info on their wedding website that they send out in an email, to sending out full invitation suites that they design themselves on Minted. There is so much variety, which can feel overwhelming - but it doesn’t have to! It also means that there’s room for you and your fiance to have the wedding - and the wedding stationery - that feels like you.

That said, if you’re here, you’re probably the old fashioned type that likes receiving and sending a paper invite, and you’re hopefully looking for something a little more personal and fun than the classic invitations you’re used to seeing. If that’s you, I’m glad you’re here! I’m going to break down what goes into wedding stationery, and give you my two cents on what to send and when.

Before the Day Goods - Surprise! This is everything that goes out before your wedding day, typically in two installments.

-Save the Date - These should go out one year to six months before your wedding. The earlier the better, especially for destination weddings, so that people have time to plan their travel, book their accommodations, all that good stuff. As with the title, these are meant for people to “save the date” for your wedding, so don’t feel like you have to have your entire wedding planned out before you send these.

The invite itself is usually postcard style, including the couple’s name, date and location of your wedding - along with a link to your wedding website as well (if you have one). Stylistically I like to keep these on the simpler side (such as with a portrait of the venue) and leave the bulk of the design for the main invitation.

-Invitation - This goes out roughly four months to six weeks before your wedding. Again, the sooner the better, especially if your wedding requires travel.

At this point, you should have more of a sense of where all of your wedding events are happening, what kind of vibe you want, attire, etc, and your invite is an opportunity to welcome people into that vibe. It should get people excited, and if you work with me, at least one person should want to frame it (I hope). It can also serve as a reminder for people to finalize their travel plans if need be, an opportunity to fill them in on important details, and an encouragement for their RSVP.

Many pieces can go into this - not only the formal “please join us for the marriage of so and so,” but also a schedule of events cards, RSVP card, maps, invites to other more “exclusive” events like a rehearsal dinner, etc. Again, you can really play around with what you want to include here - but my Standard package covers the basics of what I think every couple needs.

On The Day Goods - This includes all of the signage and paper goods needed on your wedding day. It’s an opportunity to incorporate the design from your invitations to give your guests a cohesive feel, and to fill people in on all the things (like what they’re eating, drinking, listening to, etc). This can include but is not limited to:

-Ceremony Program

-Drink Menu

-Dinner Menu

-Table Signs

-Welcome Sign

-Escort Cards

-Place Cards

After the Day - This is your thank you notes! These can go out up to one year after your wedding day, but I suggest getting started once you return from your honeymoon (if you go on one). It’s a great way to keep the memory of your wedding alive, and thus I think the actual note you send should reflect that memory as well - with an illustration of your florals, or a photo of you and your new spouse, or a continuation of your invitation design. Need a last minute thank you note made just for you? I’ve got a custom greeting card set option on my website separate from my wedding stationery packages to get you going, and would love to work with you.

The moral of the story? Do what feels good to you, while thinking of your guests’ experience throughout the process. This is your wedding, and people will remember and enjoy the things that felt like you, not like what Emily Post told you to do.

Yours Truly,

Sage

I never thought I’d be designing wedding stationery.

For most of my life I wanted to be a writer, and spent much of my early twenties performing spoken word and writing a blog. When the pandemic hit in 2020 I started painting, and it brought me more joy than I ever imagined. In 2024 I designed the stationery for my own wedding and completely fell in love with the process, and felt like I had finally found a creative path I could walk down.

There’s so much formality and tradition associated with wedding stationery, but at the end of the day, we’re really just sending little love letters or poems to all of our favorite people. I’m excited to take this next step in my business, fusing my background as a writer and poet and my current work as an illustrator. Let’s reimagine what wedding stationery can be, together!

It Starts with the Stationery

Weddings - we love them. We hate them. We sometimes love to hate them. I don’t know if you’re like me, but when I got engaged I was nervous about putting on a wedding without putting on all the artifice and formality that can often come with it. We knew we wanted a big wedding surrounded by all the people we love - but we also very much wanted it to feel like us.

There were many personal touches we added to create that personal feel - from my husband hand-building the arbor we got married under, to doing it in the backyard of my family home and serving the hors devoures on our family china. But, the one part that I loved more than anything was designing our stationery and signage. Not only because I just love to draw and paint and add personal touches to everything, but also because it allowed me to set the tone of the day we wanted to have before it even began, and to tell the story of who we are.

From the get go, our guests could probably tell we were doing things a little differently - the invitation did not have my parents names - gasp! There was no embossing or ribbons or paper popouts - gasp! There was an illustration of flowers in a coke bottle vase - gasp! While I worried that these differences would offend everyone in the name of Bridal Tradition Everywhere, I think they actually did the opposite. Our invitation, personal and playful and non-traditional, welcomed people in to what would be a heartfelt day, done our way.

Photo Credit: Georgie Morley

I have nothing against wedding tradition and formality - there is a reason why it’s there and I think it’s so beautiful if that is the direction you choose to go down for your wedding. But, at the end of the day, it’s not us, and it is my personal belief that your wedding should reflect (at least in some element) who you are as a couple. And this is why I am so excited to take the next step into wedding stationery design, helping couples tell the story of who they uniquely are through their stationery.

If you’re looking to do things a little differently on your wedding day, if you want fun, personalized stationery without all the frills, if you’re likely to end up barefoot on the dance floor by the end of the wedding night and are adamant about doing at least one thing DIY - let’s talk. I’d love to help tell the story of your big day.

Courting Uncertainty

Photo by Georgie Morley

I am courting uncertainty again.

I sit here, looking out at the finally gray day after a long stretch of sun, at my desk after a long stretch away. Everything in me exhales - the familiarity of my pens, the blanket on my lap, the piles of halfway finished artwork in front of me. I have been here before. And yet, now, nothing is the same.

I am returning home after three weeks away on Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard, for my wedding and honeymoon, respectively. A time of immense high, full-fledged relaxation and socialization. The culmination of months of planning and collaboration. All the people I love in one place, at one time, just for us.

And now, the rose petals have fallen, and I sit here in the aftermath, with the familiar face of the Great Abyss before me. Not only do I have a beautiful new life ahead with my now husband - but I also do not have my old one. About a month before getting married, I made the choice to leave my job as an events manager so that I could fully give myself to the final push of the wedding planning process - one that required my full energy, time, and heart. This change allowed me to show up to last minute meetings, to travel to Nantucket on a whim to meet with vendors and hash things out, and to hand paint all of the place cards for the rehearsal dinner. It also allowed me the space to write my vows and deeply meditate on this threshold that I was about to cross. In some ways, I don’t know if the show of our wedding would have gone on, had I not made this decision. And yet, now I sit in what I knew would be waiting for me on the other side - uncertainty.

Uncertainty. It’s a scary thing - something we often try to avoid. We create order and routine and structure to stave it off. We make social plans and take career steps to keep it at bay. But at the end of the day, it’s always there, even if briefly, even if just in that quiet voice in the morning while your coffee is brewing, whispering “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

If you know anything about me, you know that I, oddly enough, am quite familiar with the unfamiliar territory known as uncertainty. I have walked many paths in life, have changed careers and moved to new places without knowing a soul. And for many years, despite its constancy in my life, I have faced the friend of uncertainty with a kind of despair, like it was a curse that I just had to succumb to. But the truth is, uncertainty is only a curse if you see it that way. It is also fertile soil, open opportunity, possibility beyond your wildest dreams. It is also the road to certainty. And I don’t know about you, but I am going to choose to see it that way instead.

I have a lot of exciting projects ahead that I look forward to sharing with you. But the truth is? I don’t know exactly where they’ll go.

Welcome, uncertainty. Cheers to the unknown.

Things I am embracing as a creative that I used to be ashamed about

1. People will judge me for taking a non-traditional path. As someone who has certainly not traversed the straight-and-narrow in life, this is something I’ve really struggled with. After traveling all over the world, jumping from job to job and place to place, I’ve spent the last some years trying to button up my life into something that was more digestible for others. Get the Real Job, Make Good Money, Be Normal. And yet. When I finally had the Real Job that would impress people at dinner parties, I was constantly stressed, unhappy and burnt out. Now, I embrace the fact that people might not get what I am doing - and that’s okay. It’s not their path anyway, and I trust in the fact that bringing my unique gifts into the world is what will bring me true success.

2. My desk is a mess. Yup. I said it. While I do have homes for my supplies, my desk is almost always covered in a smattering of paints, notebooks, pens, paintbrushes, and piles of works in progress. While it may not appear put together, I don’t need it to! It is a sign that I am actively working, creating and playing - and if it were more put together, all of that would be harder to do.

3. It’s vulnerable. For me, being a creative often involves sharing the messy, unfinished edges of my life with the world. Whether in writing a poem, sharing a post, or storytelling on social media, I am often sharing intimate things with strangers on the internet. And I used to feel weird about that, because it’s not something that everyone does. But now, I embrace the vulnerability as part of my creative path, because it’s what makes my work and my story relatable. And, if it helps one person feel less alone, then that’s an added bonus.

Three Steps for Getting Unstuck

Was it only two months ago that we set all of those new years resolutions? Just months ago, I had so much momentum. All of my creative dreams were clear, and I was actively working my way towards them, day by day. But lately, I have found myself feeling stuck - in shadows of self-doubt and stagnation, that seem to be getting the better of me. I know I want to finish this project and start that new one, but somehow, something keeps getting in the way. But there is some good news here - I have been in this creative dance with myself long enough that I have learned some ways to get myself out of it, that don’t involve affirmations, magical thinking, or forcing my way out of it.

When I find myself stuck in a rut creatively, I try to focus less on getting myself out of the rut (read - producing more work or finishing more projects) and instead focus on giving to myself in a way that will make me feel good. And then, in that state of feeling good, I will naturally produce more creative work. Like a flower sitting in soil that’s been well-nourished, it’s eventually bound to bloom.

I like to keep this process simple and feeling oriented - where the exact actions I take differ based on where I am at, so that the focus again remains not on what I am doing, but how I am feeling.

1. Do something that makes you feel creative (other than that thing that you’re “stuck” on)

   It might be putting on a really fun and over-the-top outfit to wear to work. It might be putting on some loud music and dancing all silly. Or it might be collecting and arranging some fallen branches you find on a walk. It doesn’t matter what you do - other than that it’s not your usual “thing",” and that it brings you into the feeling state of creativity, even if briefly.

2. Do something that makes you feel nourished.

   Take a slow salt bath. Drink a steaming cup of bone broth or herbal tea. Accomplish nothing on your to-do list for an entire day and lay on the couch watching TV. While you may be drawn towards the more extravagant forms of nourishment, this can also be very simple - have you eaten in the last few hours? Have you rested? Did you drink water? Focus on tending to your very basic bodily needs in ways that feel really good to you.

3. Keep showing up for your thing every day, regardless of the outcome.

   That’s right - for the first two steps to be in service of getting you unstuck, you do have to keep showing up. But now, it’s hopefully from a creative cup that is a little more overflowing, and a body that is a little bit better satiated. You may not write a New York Times bestseller or paint the sistine chapel, but you will be working, and making, and doing that thing you do in a way that is tailored to you, and your body, and your needs.

   And the catch? You will get stuck again. And again. And again. And hopefully, you will remember to return to this beautiful cycle, of stepping back from the action and nourishing the thing that is doing it all in the first place. Rinsing and repeating until you are back in a rhythm with yourself.

   Welcome back.

How I Freed Up My Artwork

For most of my life, I have strongly identified with the role of a writer. For many years I wrote a blog, performed spoken word poetry, and was constantly in tune with the metaphor and meaning hidden in my internal world. But, in January of 2020, I felt inspired to explore a new creative outlet, bought myself a Winsor Newton watercolor set, and started painting. I had no idea this would turn into such a passion of mine, let alone a business, or that I would one day call myself an artist. I had always drawn as a young girl and throughout my life, but that was something I hid in notebooks and did in solitude. Me? I was a writer.

To loosen myself up from this strongly held identity, I had to make a few perspective shifts. Here are some things I found helpful:

1. I gave myself permission to explore a new creative path and hold multiple identities. A lot of books on creativity will tell you to focus on one thing so that you can perfect it (i.e. “to be a writer you must write”). For many years I felt a lot of guilt in stepping away from my writing - like I was letting myself down somehow, if I allowed myself to draw and paint instead. To combat this, I adopted a new mentality, one that allowed my creative expression to take many forms throughout my life, based on what I needed and I was drawn to in that time period. I chose to focus on living on a creative life, rather than overly identifying with one label or another.

2. I found inspiration in people who had walked many creative paths - like Suleika Jaouad, a writer who started to paint later on in life, and shared it all with the world. She could confidently hold both of these identities in tandem, so why couldn’t I?

3. I let go of the need for my artwork to look realistic. So often when you think of a painting or a drawing, you think of highly detailed landscapes or portraits that look like exactly like a photograph. The jawlines, the shadows, the contouring, are all perfect representations of the subject. And while that style is absolutely a work of art, for me it often felt constricting, like I had to effort my drawing into something, rather than letting it emerge into what it wanted to be on its own. When I started to embrace my own quirky whimsical style, drawing women that were anatomically incorrect and houses that didn’t have perfect proportions, I remembered that art is not just intended to be a photographic representation of something you see. It is also an energetic imprint, a playful interpretation, a translation, a hieroglyph of a point in time. Imprinted in a style that is completely mine.

4. I started to embrace my style, trusting that the people who liked it would find me, and people who didn’t would walk along.

Goal Setting on a Snow Day

As we enter into this new year of 2024, so much is being said of goal setting and achievement orienting. What do you want to accomplish? Who do you want to become? What will you manifest? And I am a huge proponent of taking the time to reflect, set goals and point your arrows in the direction you want to go - I even just signed up for a free workshop on this very thing! And yet, as I gaze out my window upon the first winter snowfall, a layer of soft snow blanketing all our growth, I want to look at my goal setting from a wider lens. With manifestation and creation, we often think the work is simply about achieving the external thing - making the painting, winning the award, getting the job, doing the work. And while these things are certainly part of the creation process, so is the destruction. So is the cleaning out of closets to make space for new materials. So is the day spent entirely on the couch, just because you need to rest. So is every “rough draft” and “not my best.” These sidesteps, creative pauses or breaks - where we step away from our work towards a goal to tend to ourselves, clean house and reset our foundations - are actually not sidesteps at all, but vital parts of the creative cycle. Just look at nature. Look out the window where, covered in snow, everything is asked to slow, pause, reset. Do the laundry, cook the chili, shovel the sidewalk. Because if we did not, and if spring came too soon, our buds would prematurely bloom, without having taken the time to get all the nutrients needed to stay strong through the summer.

Part of thriving is pausing and playing. Part of getting shit done is doing nothing. And part of becoming the person you want to be is holding a thousand funerals for all the versions of yourself that you once were. And then donating her old clothes to Good Will.

I think of this all as I spend a lot of my free time not in churning out artwork or launching new products, but in reflecting on the next steps I want to take. In walking through the wintry woods with my dog, her playful hops through the snow reminding me we have nothing if not enjoyment. In reorienting my desk to better face the window looking out at the snow, creating more space in my creative landscape. I can’t wait to share what will grow from it.

The old man at the Subaru service station reminds me of how I want to exist in the world.

Surrounded by plastic chairs and car parts and keyboard clanging and Men’s Health magazines, he is sitting there, reading a book with yellowed pages and worn edges. He is in this world, and simultaneously completely immersed in his own one. I am anxious, needing to leave the service station with enough time to get to another appointment, looking at my computer. But seeing him to my side settles me. Like I can exist in both places - this fast-paced, car-part world, and the slowed down, here and now. In the last half hour of my waiting I walk into the brambles behind the building that hug along the banks of a gentle stream. There is a subtle path that takes me under the overpass and into the forest where I am surrounded by nothing but trees, just minutes from the service station. I collect fallen pine needles and brambling branches that look like miniature chandeliers and I walk back to pay my bill and get to where I need to go on time. But for those brief moments I am reminded of my own wildness, my own freedom, my own humanness, existing just behind the machine service station.

Letter writing is another way that I love to straddle this line. I could just as easily send a thank you text and cross gratitude off my to-do list, and while I am not above that from time to time, there’s nothing like slowing down and tapping into my heart to share my thanks from a deeper place. Taking the time to make the card, write the message, seal the envelope, take it to the mailbox, and be a part of the whole process. To be reminded of my own wildness, my own freedom, my own humanness, existing just beside text message convenience and email marketing.

This holiday season, when we are surrounded by so much consumerism and Christmas tree lights, I invite you to light a candle. Write a letter. Make your own gift tags out of birch tree bark and attach them to the gifts you ordered on Amazon. Allow yourself to straddle both worlds, embrace the paradox of life, be the old man reading an old book at the service station. And, whenever you can, find five minutes to traipse out in the woods behind your house and be surrounded by trees. I guarantee we will all be better for it.

The Power of the Little Things

Wars are breaking out across the world. People are being hospitalized. Protests are raging. Cold season is coming. I don’t know about you, but often times when these challenges hit I feel paralyzed, like I can never do enough, so I end up doing nothing. I shared a quote recently on my Instagram page by Edward Everett Hale, about how you cannot do everything, but you can do something.

I found myself reflecting on this recently, after speaking with friends and family living through crises. During these times it can often feel like there are no words - like nothing I do or say will ever be enough to stop the war or heal the pain. And it is true - I cannot stop a decades long war, cannot save someone from sickness. But I can do something. I can make a greeting card, or a phone call, or a meal. I can continue to show up with grace and thoughtfulness to those in my sphere, and I can pray that it trickles out. And, if all else fails, I can pray.

I invite you to join me today, in doing something seemingly small for someone in your life going through something challenging. You never know how big this seemingly small thing could be.

On Rest

As my dog is recovering from spay surgery and I am allowing myself to take a sick day for the first time since I can remember, I am thinking a lot about the concept of rest. If you’re here, you’re probably a giver - of thoughtful gifts to the people you love, of your time to others, of your heart. And if you’re a giver, you may be like me and find it challenging to allow yourself to pause, slow down, and rest. But what if resting was not looked at as putting a halt on things, but actually seen as another way of giving - only this time, to yourself?

Sometimes I make art to share with others, sometimes I make art to sell, and other times, in the quiet of the evening, I make art just for me. Tucked into my sketchbook or pinned to the wall in front of my desk, as a reminder of what I want to see and how I want to show up for myself.

As we approach the holidays, we givers often go on overdrive. So, in this October time, I invite you to consider how you might also make space to give to yourself. Will you allow yourself the luxury of vanilla in your latte? A day off to do nothing? A long chat with a good friend when you could be getting things done? What decadence will you give to yourself?

For me, taking a day off to reset is feeling like the luxurious equivalent of covering myself in pearls, laying on a velvet chaise and being fed bon-bons all day. For you, it might be something else entirely. I encourage you to find your own version of this luxury, this rest. And, if you’d like help creating it an artistic memento of it, let me know.

Don’t stop giving. Just make room to give to yourself, too.

Five Ways to Live a More Creative Life (Without “Making Art”)

1. Go on a walk in your neighborhood and collect the wildflowers and plants growing around you. Notice all of the beauty in what you had previously seen as weeds, and make an arrangement of them at home to display for yourself.

2. Practice the lost art of loitering. When you have in-between time (between appointments, work meetings, dinner with a friend) resist the urge to fill the space with a phone call or an errand or an accomplishment. Let yourself loiter, sitting outside on a park bench and watching people walk by. Wander into a gift shop down the street, stroll through the neighborhood and look at the houses, and embrace the in-between as the space from which all good ideas grow.

3. As best you can, find ways to add more walking into your life. Is work nearby? Get up a little earlier and walk there. Errand to run down the street? Walk! Use this time to mull over any creative impulses coming to you and be inspired by the world around you.

4. Work with what you have. Rather than trying to create something grand, use the resources you have in your home and look at them them in a new way. Painting but no paint? Mix old spices with water and glue. Redecorating on a tight budget? Move the furniture you have into new spots around your house and start to see things in a new light.

5. Use your clothing to channel the energy you want to feel each day. Play around with different characters and archetypes - sassy art teacher, ballet instructor, boss babe, wild herbalist - and remember that you are the creator of your own reality.

The Beauty of Buying Handmade

This past month I had the pleasure of commissioning a custom portrait of our puppy by a local artist, as a birthday gift for my fiancé. Working with her was a breeze, and there was nothing quite like the look on his face - and the combination of tears and laughter that came out of him - when he first opened this gift, that had been made gift just for him. And that’s the beauty of custom artwork - it’s made just for you. What could be more special than that?

As a sentimental soul, I love giving gifts that are infused with meaning - a nod to someone’s favorite food, or place, or song. We give so many gifts that are just new things - a new sweater, pair of socks, coffee mug - and while these new things have meaning and beauty in their own right, what if you could imbue someone’s personal history and memories into them? In a world full of carbon copies and mass production, why not give something one-of-a-kind? This is why custom artwork is at once more expensive, and at the same time, priceless - because it cannot be remade. And I think that is so, so beautiful.

As I write this, I am looking around my home - a gallery of handmade memories. The painting of the view in front of our summer home, made by a family friend. The coffee table made from an old luggage cart, refinished with beautifully stained wood by my fiance. The house portraits of our childhood and current homes, made by me. These gifts are all distinctly mine and distinctly ours, and they make me feel more at home than something store-bought ever could.

As we go into gift-giving season, I encourage you to think about how to incorporate this handmade element into your gifting. Whether you can afford to commission a custom oil painting by your favorite artist or simply etch someone’s initials into a new hammer, it doesn’t matter. It matters that you took the time, to give something with your someone special in mind. Something that only you could give, something that only they could receive. And I promise you, the look on their face will make all the extra effort worth it.

The Story Behind Happy Place Portraits

When I was about eight years old, my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I didn’t know at the time, but I did know I loved houses and the stories they tell. So, I told her plain and simple, “I like to look at houses,” with no idea what that could mean for a future career or calling.

As the daughter of an architect, I grew up exploring the newly finished houses my father had designed. I remember visiting one on Martha’s Vineyard island - one of those big gingerbread houses with nooks and crannies and a winding staircase that took you all the way up to a circular room at the top of the world, filled with cushions and a telescope and views of the ocean out the window. I could have explored that house all day. I remember feeling that sense of enchantment looking at my dad’s other projects, and even visiting a friend’s house for the first time. Plain and simple, I loved looking at houses.

When one says this, you might think “real estate agent” or “interior designer,” but what I was drawn to about houses had nothing to do with all that serious stuff that the adults downstairs were talking about, with their big words and important contracts. What I was drawn to was the sense of whimsy I felt in exploring a house, peering around its corners, slowly uncovering the stories it told of the people who lived there. I loved opening the cabinets, tiptoeing down the hall and hearing the floorboards creak, and noticing all the little details that made up a home, a life.

Having spent summers on the island of Nantucket - whose houses literally have names - I always connected to the personality and life of a home, underneath its architectural renderings. Our family’s home out there was full of tchotchkes and trinkets that my grandfather had collected, portraits of family members, and at least ten portraits of the house itself. I grew up with a deep connection to houses - as if they are family members, too.

And so, it’s no wonder why I started painting portraits of homes and happy places. I want to help people tell their stories, and to reconnect with that same childlike whimsy that so many of us feel when walking through a special place. I want to capture a home’s feeling, its essence, so that it can be remembered forever. My style is playful and not-quite-to-scale for that reason - to connect you with the whimsy within you. Perfectly straight lines and proportions? We’ll leave that to the adults downstairs.

Re-branding to Un-brand

For a while, I have been contemplating changing the name of my business. As much as I have loved Letters from a Sage, the concept of letter writing began to feel more constricting than freeing. Yes, I am here to help you write love letters and thank you notes, but I also make custom artwork and stationery. I might host workshops one day. I might offer creative coaching. I might open my own storefront one day. The options are endless. And so, I wanted a name that opened up those opportunities, rather than limited them.

I love Sage’s Studio because it isn’t a brand name. It’s a place. It’s the place from where all my creative work comes - whether it be artwork, writing, performance, or building creative community. And it’s also a spirit - of wisdom, of the natural world, of infusing who I am into everything I make. It gives me room to breathe.

Often in business, you are told to narrow yourself down. Hone in on one thing, get really good at it. Discard other options, interests, talents. Monocrop your product so you can massproduce it. And while that might have value in conventional agriculture and certain creative pursuits, I want my work to be more of a wildflower garden. Where the weeds support the soil that supports the seeds I’m planting. Where everything is part of the process. Where my writing is not taking away from my painting, but actually nourishing it, and vice versa. Where going on a walk and gathering inspiration is just as important as sitting down to work. And where everything grows in its own time.

For years, I thought I had to decide - am I an artist? Or am I a writer? Am I this or am I that? But with Sage’s Studios, I am actively choosing not to decide. To let all of my talents and interests be in support of my growth. Because that is the space that I want to create from, and the space I want to inspire you to live in.

Welcome to Sage’s Studio, featuring artwork, writing and creative community by Sage Dallmus. Rooted in a sense of place and personal wisdom. Here to help you grow your own.

My boyfriend and I watched King Richard last night.

Following the formative years of Venus and Serena Williams, this movie tells the story of their father Richard, and how he helped nurture them into the powerhouses we all know and love. Among the many things that moved me about this movie (hah) was Richard's fierce dedication to the well-roundedness of his daughter's lives. Before his daughters were even born he had a plan - a plan for how he would raise them, and raise them into the talents that they are. Not only did he take them to the courts day in and day out to hone their tennis skills - he was also adamant that they got good grades in school and spent quality time with family and friends. That they were kids. To this tune, he pulled them out of juniors - the tennis match circuit where you go to compete before going pro - and put them in practice, kept them in school, and trusted they would go pro when they were ready. And, as we all know, they did.

While I certainly cannot compare my eventual success to that of Venus and Serena Williams, I find comfort in their father's approach to developing it - as simply one part of their multifaceted, fragile lives. Though less part of a plan and more product of personal necessity, I have pulled myself out of my own version of juniors. This self-titled artist/entrepreneur, who was once posting on Instagram daily, sending weekly newsletters and constantly researching how to optimize and expand and grow, has not played the game in months. Has not posted on social media, sent a newsletter, has considered dropping the whole gig altogether in remembrance of my other interests. Has been taking dance classes, going to therapy, getting through a rough quarter at work, writing and performing again, and planning girls nights with her friends.

While I may never go pro (read - putting the pressure of my financial stability on this venture) with my creative talents, I will continue to go slow - like Richard emphasizes with Venus and Serena - nurturing these talents as one part of my multifaceted, fragile life. I will continue to go slow, and I just wanted to know that while you may not have heard from me in a while, I'm still here.

I've got a few holiday cards up for some last minute shopping, and have slowly centered on my own sea-inspired aesthetic (which magically happened when I stopped trying to force it). I've also had the honor of selling said cards at a local pop-up (so fun!) and performing in a storytelling event - all of which you can check out here on my site.

Here's to 2022. I hope you take the steps towards your dreams, but I also hope you take that class you've been thinking about, take time to spend with family, and take a long walk where you to-do list is the last thing on your mind.

Until next time,
Sage

Creating For An Audience of One.

Many years before I started this business, my dad would tell me that I could sell the greeting cards I made for friends and family. I would always shrug it off, as I had no idea how these from-the-heart messages I made could ever be mass-produced. It wasn’t until I was encouraged to make personalized cards, custom-made for each special occasion, that I started to see a path for selling something that once was so personal. And yet, as I’ve progressed, stepping away from one-of-a-kind cards because it was a lot to keep up with, I’ve lost touch with that personal touch. How do I make cards that speak to someone when I don’t know who I’m speaking to? How do I commemorate occasions we all celebrate in a way that says more than I’m sorry for your loss, or happy birthday?

And the answer I’m discovering is to create for an audience of one. Instead of trying to blanket your product into something that can please the entire world, pick one person. Please them. Make the clothes that they want to wear. Write the words that they need to hear. Draw the image they need to see. And somehow, you may find that this creation connects to more than just that one person.

What does that look like for me right now? Rooting into the people and events in my life, creating cards for their unique needs, and then taking those designs to my shop. It is a slow and steady way to create—I don’t get to sit down and say I need to make more birthday cards, and churn them out. But it does make my shop a tapestry of all the places and people and particularities that I hold dear. It does give me a body of work that comes from-the-heart. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Showing Up

I’m remembering this quote I read in some literary magazine years ago—“one of the hard things about writing is that you have to show up, but you don’t know what you’re showing up for.” I collaged this quote onto a photo of a mother brushing her daughter’s wet hair after a shower, the most loving, simple act of showing up she could do, and in almost all avenues of my life, it still rings true.

One of the hardest parts about writing or making art or creating is that you have to show up, but you don’t know what you’re showing up for. Let that sink in. Think of the jobs you’ve had, the places you’ve shown up to on time, hung your coat up on the hook, and punched into the clock. Think of the work you did for the time you were allotted. Now, picture yourself showing up on time, but not quite knowing where, or what to do with the time that you have in front of you. Picture yourself sitting down somewhere amidst this unknown, with no one to answer to, not knowing what the heck to do. Is that not the conundrum we’re all in?

As writers, artists and creatives, we are all temporarily hovering mid-air, knowing that there is this thing that we want to do and make and become, but not quite knowing what it is yet. But we show up—most days—hang out coats on our studio racks or in the closet of the old bedroom our parents cleared out for us to use, and we do what we can of the thing. We stare at the words. We add color to the page. We recycle the page. We reorganize the place where we keep them. We water the plants. We brush the daughter’s hair. We show up and we show up and we show up, and some days we still have nothing to show for it. And that is the hardest part. But if instead of seeing ourselves as stuck creatives, or writers that cannot write or painters that cannot paint, we see ourselves as gardeners of new beginnings, tending to the seeds. We see ourselves as parents tucking our little girl into bed after a shower. And suddenly the smallest, most simple acts are infused with a purpose greater than you ever could have imagined.