We recently connected with Joanna Milo and have shared our conversation below.

Joanna, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Do you wish you had started sooner?

My Story

This is a question I’ve spent a lot of time pondering…

Although I’ve now been a “career artist” for over 15 years, I do wish I had started, with a clear vision, much sooner. Like many artists, after college I did the “sensible, responsible” thing and got a “proper” job at an advertising agency, in order to earn a steady paycheck while I worked on figuring out what I really wanted to do with my life. Although I relished the idea of seeing my artwork on the walls of galleries and collectors, I didn’t know how to go about making this happen, and I didn’t have the confidence or support to pursue this dream, so I did what I thought was the next-best thing, and worked in the art and graphics department of the ad agency, segueing between design and project management. Needless to say, even though I worked amongst other creatives and the agency produced some groundbreaking ads, it was not fine art, and it was anything but fulfilling.

I soon quit my agency job and navigated freelance graphic design work, while also co-founding a company that helped young, aspiring business professionals and international students improve their English vocabulary. My creative drive was, at that point, focused on writing a course, developing a web site, fielding customer service needs, and generally tending to all the nitty-gritty required of a small-business entrepreneur. Once that business was, for the most part, running itself, I was able to reassess my dreams and passions, and I began painting on my dining room table before finally renting a small art studio in San Diego’s Little Italy. I quickly outgrew that small studio and moved into a much larger one, while securing representation with an art gallery and a high-end home furnishings store.

At that pivotal point, when my art career was just beginning to blossom, I got pregnant with my first and only child, and never so-much as entertained the idea of pumping the breaks on my art business. But, as any parent knows, all and any expectations we may have about parenting, before our babies are born, quickly go out the window as soon as reality sets in. When my daughter was about 4 months old, I realized that daily travel between my home in Solana Beach and my studio in Little Italy, with an infant in tow, was not realistic or feasible, at least not for me. I made the difficult decision to take a short break and a step away from my art practice, to focus on full-time motherhood, and packed up my beautiful creative space, putting everything into storage and vowing to find a studio, closer to home, within a year or two.

Looking back, I wish I had had the foresight to turn part of my garage into a creative space, so that my work could continue, even if only part-time. But that “short” break turned into almost 8 years, and although motherhood was and is a beautiful and fulfilling creative journey in its own right, I yearned to create, but felt stuck and stifled, not knowing how, exactly, to make the return to art. I think there was a fear that I was too old to start again, and a fear that my work wouldn’t be good enough to resonate with collectors. For any artist, there’s always that inevitable feeling of imposter syndrome, and I think it became all the more prevalent for me upon my return to full-time art.
When I was approached by a gallery in Solana Beach, to show my work as part of a summer pop-up series of local artists, I took it as a sign that this was my time to return to my art career. That was nearly three years ago, and since then, I’ve gone from working out of my garage, to moving into a small studio space as a short-term bridge before finding the beautiful space I’m in now.

As I reflect on the “could-haves, should-haves” of my art career, I know that had I pursued art full-time, from an earlier age, I would be farther along in recognition and career success. But on the flip side, I may have become disenchanted with the art world or burned out. In addition, I believe that taking that step away from art, to focus on motherhood, elevated my work in ways I couldn’t have foreseen. There’s a wisdom and maturity to the way I now approach my creative process that wasn’t there in my 20s and 30s. I guess the short answer is, I sometimes wish there was a sliding door to see and experience what might have been, but I believe everything happens for a reason and I’m exactly where I’m meant to be at this point in my life and art career.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I’m originally from Poland and spent the first part of my childhood there. From my earliest memories, art was a big part of my life, as my parents had many artist friends and collected art. I initially thought I would become a photographer, but the romance of putting paint to canvas won my heart and soul. In addition to her love of supporting young, emerging artists, my mother was also a hobbyist watercolor painter, so painting was always in my blood. In fact, I believe my defining moment as an artist came in processing the grief I felt after my mom’s passing.

Initially inspired by the ocean and landscapes of Southern California, but highly attuned to my love of abstract art, I began my artistic journey by painting vibrant and highly saturated ocean-scapes and landscapes, using only a palette knife. I loved the organic process of dragging the knife across thickly applied paint and allowing the process to guide the work. The paintings were beautiful, but at my core, I knew that was all they were. They lacked a deeper meaning that I think most artists strive to express. But the unexpected death of my mother dramatically changed my process and style of art. Initially, I felt creatively paralyzed and couldn’t bring myself to face a canvas, but soon, I allowed myself to play again, and the art that emerged was minimalistic, evocative, surprising, and cathartic. The healing that I derived from the daily exercise of creation became evident in the evolution of the work. What began as highly minimalistic and monochromatic, soon gave way to deeper layers and vibrant colors. It was as though I had found myself and my artistic voice through the processing and releasing of my grief.

Currently, and after my return to full-time art (after several years of full-time motherhood), my work and style has gone through another evolution. As I’ve grown older, I’ve also become more spiritual. [I can go into this more, if need be] In my artistic process, I paint not what I see with my eyes, but what I feel with my soul. As a Cancer, I have always been highly intuitive, and my emotional nature shapes my work. Each piece is an emotional response to the world around me, both seen and unseen, with texture and layers that reveal depth and light. I strive to capture the fleeting feeling of connection and contemplation, and I also enjoy experimenting with texture as a metaphorical play on the multidimensionality of life.

My recent work has been described as atmospheric, which I think is a wonderful description of the interplay of light and dark within each painting. You may see fire, you may see a cloudy sky, you may see a distant landscape, but above all, my wish is that when viewing my work, you feel both moved and soothed.

My art also explores the theme of connection—our bonds with nature, each other, ourselves, and the greater universe. I often experience this connection on a subconscious level; when I create a piece, I begin seeing its elements in the world around me, particularly in nature. As my spirituality has deepened, my art has become more attuned to these subtle connections.

I invite viewers to bring their own interpretations to my paintings. What inspires me—a cloud, a mountain, or a fleeting moment—might evoke something entirely different in them. This relationship between the art and the viewer is a central part of my creative process. Ultimately, creating art is a source of joy and fulfillment, and I am grateful for the deep connection it fosters between myself and my audience.

I’m now proud to be an independent artist and I work and show my paintings at my beautiful studio in Solana Beach, CA. You can usually find me there, creating, and I’m also open by appointment. I love meeting with art lovers, collectors, and people who are curious about my work. Investing in art is a highly personal experience, and I strive to provide a warm and welcoming, personalized experience to anyone who steps inside the sanctuary that is my studio. It’s very common and natural for me to become friends with my collectors. I truly love getting to know people, whether they become collectors or just love to browse art. I think everyone has an interesting story to tell and those stories may also influence my work on a subconscious level. I’m highly passionate about my work, about art in general, and about people and connection. I really can’t imagine myself doing anything else.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

I had to unlearn that the only way to be a successful artist is through showing your work art galleries. Nowadays, there are so many ways to sell art and connect with your audience, from online and social media venues, to a multitude of art fairs, to just “good-old-fashioned” networking. In my experience, being able to personally connect with art collectors has contributed to my growth, happiness and feeling of fulfillment as an artist. I love that I can be in control of my own success and destiny. That’s not to say that I don’t have respect for art galleries, but as I’ve said, I love people and the personal touch of being able to sell my art independently and directly, and I believe that collectors feel a deeper connection to the art when they get to know the artist, as opposed to buying something off a gallery wall, without having that personal connection.

Have you ever had to pivot?

I shared much of this in my opening answer, but it was, as I’ve said, when I stepped away from art to focus on motherhood. That was a conscious decision that I wasn’t entirely prepared for when my daughter was initially born, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time, and was in alignment with other events that were taking place in my life at the time.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.joannamiloart.com
• Instagram: @joannamilofineart
• Facebook: Joanna Milo art

Image Credits

The first image of myself is by Kristen Vincent photography
All other images are my own, except for the one of me standing in front of my work.
That one is by Melody Joan Visuals.