The Vision: Inspired by the ‘Āina (The Land)
Yes, I went to Maui. I was invited by my friend to attend his sister’s wedding, which was truly lovely—a beautiful celebration in a stunning place. But as many of us know, travel isn’t always just postcards and perfect moments. We did have our challenges.
I can honestly say I grew from the experience because I chose to use my voice. I expressed my feelings, and even though they might not have been “welcomed” in the moment, there was something deeply healing about sharing them. It cleared the air for both of us, and we eventually found a way to move past the friction and reconnect.
I also learned a valuable lesson in boundaries: I gave him the space to enjoy his vacation his way, which freed me up to head out into the hills. While I would have preferred to hike with him, I discovered a special kind of magic in the solitude. As an artist, I realized I need that alone time. It’s where my inspiration lives.
The Legend of Pe’ahi: Navigating “Jaws”
Most people know the name “Jaws” from surf movies—it’s home to some of the biggest, most ferocious waves in the world. But the Hawaiian name for this powerful place is Pe’ahi, and the land itself is just as rugged as the water.
To get to the cliffs overlooking the surf break, I had to navigate Hahana Road, a notoriously “bumpy” unpaved path. This isn’t your typical tourist stroll. The terrain is a mix of deep red-dirt ruts and jagged volcanic rocks that can be slick as ice if it’s rained or dusty and loose if it’s dry.
Staying upright was a workout in itself! At 1.76 miles, the trek to the overlook is a test of focus. You have to respect the ‘Āina (the land) here; one wrong step on those volcanic teeth and the hike is over. But standing on those cliffs, looking out at the power of the ocean, made every “bumpy” step worth it.
The Queen of Texture Reclaims Her Throne
As I navigated the path, I found myself doing something I’ve done since I first picked up a brush: I reached out and touched the earth.
In my art, I have always been known as the Queen of Texture. For years, my work wasn’t just about what you saw; it was about what you felt. Creating with texture is all about touch and creating a beautiful depth that invites the hand as much as the eye. To me, texture is the language of history—it tells the story of how something was made, how it was weathered, and how it survived.
Touching those basalt rocks in Maui felt like a conversation with an old friend. The stone was cool from the three days of rain, but it had a “tooth” to it that felt familiar. Some spots were porous and light, filled with the tiny pockmarks of ancient volcanic gas. Others were dense, heavy, and “edgy.” As an artist, I realized that my life has been a bit like those rocks lately—bumpy and weathered. But just like my healing art, those textures are what create the depth. Without the “bumps,” the landscape would be flat and lifeless.
Watching the Path: A Lesson in Mindfulness
While I hiked, I watched a few kids fly past me, their young legs moving fast and fearless over the uneven ground. I smiled, but I stayed mindful. I was being more careful, watching every single step to stay safe on those jagged basalt edges.
But in slowing down, I found something they might have missed: the intricate patterns of the stone. Those edgy rocks reminded me so much of my older works from my printmaking days. In printmaking, you don’t just “paint” a surface; you engage with it. You carve, you etch, and you use pressure to force the ink into deep, textured grooves. Looking at those Maui rocks was like looking at a giant, natural printing plate. It was a reminder that my “artist’s eye” is always active, capturing the world’s grit and beauty even when I’m simply walking.
“Let it Rain”: The Three-Day Soak
They say if you don’t like the weather in Maui, wait ten minutes. But for three days, the island gave us a masterclass in tropical rain. I loved every minute of it. While others might have felt “stuck,” I felt the rain doing the emotional heavy lifting for me. It was washing away the tension of the trip, the unspoken words, and the fatigue.
On my walk back from the cliffs of Pe’ahi, the sky opened up. One minute I was navigating the “bumpy” basalt rocks, and the next, I was drenched. The red dirt turned into a slick, clay-like mud. I had to be even more precise with my footing, but instead of feeling annoyed, I felt invigorated. The rain was a sensory “anchor.” It kept me present. It was a necessary part of the healing process—you can’t have the bloom without the soak.
The 2:00 PM Miracle: A Surprise of the Heart
Then, as if the island knew exactly when to pivot, the clouds parted. The wedding wasn’t at a massive resort; it was at a local community beach. There is something profoundly grounded about a wedding in a space that belongs to the people.
The sun emerged with a brilliance that made the turquoise water look almost neon. The beach felt incredibly private and sacred. The plan had been simple: an intimate ceremony with a handful of close friends. But Maui has a way of amplifying love. Instead of the “few” they expected, twenty friends appeared on the sand to stand with them.
What a treat that was for the couple! To see twenty people show up just to be present in the salt spray and the sunshine was a powerful reminder of what real friendship is. They were there when it mattered most. Standing there on the wet sand, the ceremony felt like a part of the landscape. It was a perfect metaphor: the challenges and the heavy rains were just the preamble to this moment of absolute light.
From Pe’ahi to the Laguna Beach Studio
Now that I’m back, I find myself standing in my Laguna Beach studio, surrounded by a different kind of coast but the same creative fire. Being home has allowed me to go back through my archives and look at my printmaking work with fresh eyes. The connection is undeniable. The “bumpy” rhythms of the Maui rocks are the same rhythms I carved into my plates years ago.
I’ve learned that while navigating the logistics and different energy levels of a trip—like my friend’s ADHD—can be a challenge, it doesn’t have to take away my vision. I might walk more carefully than the kids on the trail, and I might choose more solitude than my travel companions, but that extra time allows me to see the textures they may miss. I wasn’t just managing a trip; I was managing my own peace.
I went to Maui as a guest, but I came home as the Queen of Texture once again. The rain has stopped, the sun is hitting the hills of Laguna, and my studio is calling. It’s time to take the inspiration from the ‘Āina and put it back where it belongs: into the art.
The Spark of What’s Next
I returned from Maui with more than just photos; I returned with a full reservoir of creative fuel. I’m currently in my studio, surrounded by those old prints and fresh sketches, and I can already feel a new series of healing art beginning to take shape. The “bumpy” path wasn’t an obstacle—it was the blueprint. I am so deeply grateful for the opportunity to step away, to speak my truth, and to remember that even the sharpest rocks can lead to the most beautiful views. The Queen of Texture is back, and she’s ready to create.
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