What I Carry When I Travel (and Why It Matters)
One of the questions I’m asked most often is this:
What should I bring?
It usually comes just before a journey—
a retreat, a workshop, or even a trip someone is taking on their own.
And beneath the question about supplies, there’s often something quieter:
Will I be able to do this?
Will I know where to begin?
Over the years, I’ve learned that a travel art kit is not really about what you pack.
It’s about how you arrive.
Not with everything you might need—
but with just enough to notice what’s already there.
A Small Kit, A Wide-Open Invitation
When I travel, I carry very little.
A small journal.
A handful of paints or pens.
A few simple tools that let me respond in the moment something catches my eye.
That’s all.
Because the goal isn’t to bring your entire creative life with you.
It’s to create just enough space
for the experience to meet you on the page.
Your journal becomes a gathering place.
A café receipt tucked between pages.
A quick sketch of a street corner before you turn away.
A line of writing that arrives before the moment slips past.
Not polished.
Not planned.
Just… present.
The supplies simply make that possible.
You Don’t Need Much to Begin
There can be a temptation to prepare perfectly.
To bring the right pens.
The best paper.
Every possible option.
But something shifts when you travel lightly.
You begin to trust your instincts.
To respond more quickly.
To let what’s in front of you be enough.
And that’s where the real magic lives.
I recorded a short video walking through the small kit I carry when I travel.
It’s unedited.
A little rough around the edges.
But in some ways, that feels fitting.
Because this way of creating isn’t about perfection.
It’s about participation.
If you’d like to see exactly what I bring along, you can watch the video below.
And if you’d like a simple place to begin, I’ve also shared a printable supply list you can download and adapt to your own way of working.
But before any of that—before the journal, the paints, the tools—
there’s something else to carry.
Curiosity.
The willingness to notice.
To pause.
To respond to what is quietly asking for your attention.
Because the most meaningful thing you’ll bring home
won’t be what you packed.
It will be what you allowed yourself to see.
If you’re curious what it feels like to travel this way—
to move slowly, to create as you go, to gather your experience in layers—
you can explore my retreats here.
