A Creative Calling

Art by Vania Hardy

Certain moments from childhood still stay with me. Like story time in third grade. I don’t remember the book, but I do remember what my teacher said about it. She said that its illustrator added hidden squirrels in every book she illustrated. That detail fascinated me—that there were hidden gems tucked into every page, some probably never found or noticed. I imagined how fun it would be to hide clues to a big mystery in my drawings. If they were never found, they’d be my fun little secret. That was when I decided I wanted to be an illustrator.

My younger school years were turbulent, and books were my escape. I related to characters like Ramona Quimby and Amber Brown. Books helped me think of my life as a story, that there was a higher purpose to live for. By middle school, I also found writing as a creative outlet, so I began to draw and write my own stories.

As creatives, we get comments on what we do. “Art is a nice hobby, but you’re not trying to make a living from that, right?” By the end of high school, I even adopted that mindset and buried my childhood dream. When I had to choose a career, graphic design was a compromise between creative and sensible. I learned the grown-up skill sets of designing for corporate clients, project management, and marketing—all of which rung and hung me out to dry.

A year into my first design job, I was stressed, creatively spent, and wanted to rediscover why I create. I dug up a canvas and acrylic paint I had leftover from a college class and decided to paint without self-judgment. All I would do, I said, is flow into the process and see what happens.

What I didn’t expect was a transcendent moment, like I finally found something long lost and forgotten. I felt like God was saying to me, “Welcome home!” For the first time since I was a kid, I lost track of time while creating something. I got another canvas, and another, until painting became a fixture in my life. I even turned half of my apartment into a studio.

Art as Worship

Painting became what I did for myself. I experimented and painted whimsical worlds. But after some time, I started getting commissions. One in particular was memorable.

They said, “Ask God what He’d have you paint for us." All I knew was that I didn’t want to paint “Christian art.” I am a believer in Christ, but I didn’t want to paint anything with the connotation of being kitschy. So everything in me resisted the subject I felt like God was pulling me towards: Mary Magdalene pouring perfume on Jesus’ feet. I tried painting anything else for over a month but never felt settled until I gave in.

This was a process unlike any other, even to this day. My evenings were quiet, and I spent hours and hours in a peaceful flow state. As the picture emerged, I started to see myself in Mary Magdalene, and this painting I was doing was the way I was called to worship God—to pour my perfume on Jesus’ feet. I remember feeling like this was the moment I saw creating art as an actual calling.

In a world that places art on the bottom rung of a priority list, I believe God sees our creating as an act of worship. It can give us a safe space to pour our hearts out and be vulnerable before Him.

Not only that, but we can discover so much from the creation process. Michelangelo said, “Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” There are new insights for us to find in every piece.

Art as Service

Understanding art as worship was foundational to my practice, but I then grew to see art as service. 

I do understand wanting to create for our own fulfillment. I do that, and it’s life-giving. But when creating art is a calling, we’re ultimately meant to serve others with it—to communicate God’s love for the world and to nurture our culture with truth and beauty. And that’s not to say that our art subjects should always be literally “Christian” or “biblical,” but that what we create comes from our hearts submitted to God. 

Another angle to think about is WHO we’re called to serve. My marketing side would ask, “Who is your target audience?” But we can think like missionaries and consider if we’re drawn to certain people groups. For example, given the type of art and illustration I naturally do, my people group is children. The way I want to serve with my art is to inspire and comfort children with hope for a better future, the same way books served me in the chaos of my own childhood. 

I’ve learned that we should ask ourselves, who else needs the work we’re creating? How can it reach them? How can it inspire them? And let those questions motivate our practice.

A Creative Calling is Worth Pursuing

My own creative practice has helped me grow deeper in faith in the last few years since I first picked up that paintbrush. While I’ve since gone on to sell artwork, and even launched into illustrating books full-time this year, it’s the spiritual fulfillment that makes my creative calling worth pursuing. I think that’s one of the reasons God gives us those dreams. As we work towards their fruition, He's with us in the process. We get to know Him and trust Him more in the adventure. And He’s the one who creates infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.