There’s something alchemic about stepping into a new country, breathing in unfamiliar air, and letting your senses guide your creativity. My art workshops in Portugal and Paris weren’t just about making beautiful travel journals—they were about becoming more fully ourselves through the act of creating in places steeped in history, charm, and inspiration.

Layers of Light, History, and Ink

Paris greeted us with soft gray skies and the shimmer of morning on the Seine. From the first breath of croissant-laced air, we knew we had stepped into a dream. Each arrondissement had its own rhythm, its own palette—and we chased them all with hungry eyes and open hearts.

Setúbal wraps around you slowly, like linen in a breeze. Mornings began with a walk to the waterfront, past fishing boats bobbing lazily in the harbor and market stalls bursting with color—plump oranges, wildflowers, hand-painted tiles. The air was laced with salt and sunshine, and the pace of life invited us to breathe a little deeper, move a little slower.

Want to know what art supplies I take along with me when I travel? It’s all in this video and you’ll be shocked how compact it packs down.

Through art journaling, guided self-reflection, and meaningful connections with like-minded women, you’ll explore themes of wisdom, joy, self-care, and legacy. Each retreat is an invitation to rekindle your creative spark, nurture your inner sage, and design your next chapter with intention. Come as you are and leave with renewed clarity, purpose, and a beautiful keepsake of your journey. 

Immerse yourself in the beauty, culture, and history of Paris, while creating your own one-of-a-kind vintage travel journal. In this hands-on workshop, we’ll journey through picturesque Paris arrondissements, open air markets, and historic sites and museums, gathering inspiration and unique vintage materials along the way. Using vintage books, antique papers, ephemera, and found objects, you’ll craft a bespoke journal that captures the essence of your travels.

As I walked home, now in the pouring rain, I stopped in my tracks to look around for the boulangerie that just had to be right in front of me.  No patisserie or boulangerie in sight, I said aloud to the empty street, “the air smells like butter”.  I shook my head and took up my walk again, thinking, “oh Paris, you are a wonder.”