We were lucky to catch up with Ashley Delaney recently and have shared our conversation below.

Ashley, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today One of the toughest things about progressing in your creative career is that there are almost always unexpected problems that come up – problems that you often can’t read about in advance, can’t prepare for, etc. Have you had such and experience and if so, can you tell us the story of one of those unexpected problems you’ve encountered?

One of the most unexpected problems I’ve faced was realizing that even in finally claiming the word “artist,” I wasn’t free from old patterns of dimming myself to fit in. For years, I thought I couldn’t say it out loud—I wasn’t good enough, trained enough, or worthy enough. It took years of creating, risking, and quietly trying the word on in private before I could finally step into it. And when I did, it felt like everything shifted. For the first time, “artist” wasn’t just one identity among many—it became the container that held all of me. I felt whole.

But what I didn’t expect was how quickly the world pushed back. People didn’t always know what to do with the whole, star-filled version of me, and so little by little I began to dim. I tucked parts of myself away to make others more comfortable, and before long I realized I was shrinking again. That discovery was heartbreaking—I thought I had already “arrived” only to see I was contorting myself all over.

The resolution hasn’t been a neat fix but a practice: to stop apologizing to my own universe and instead keep uncovering it. To accept that growth can be uncomfortable, but it’s the only way forward. Now my journey isn’t about proving myself as an artist, but about staying true to my expansion—choosing authenticity, choosing light, choosing to shine brighter even when it doesn’t fit the mold.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m Ashley Delaney, a mixed-media artist and writer based in Chattanooga, Tennessee. My work traces cycles of transformation—the way fragments can be undone, reimagined, and reborn as something whole. I work primarily with reclaimed and recycled materials: worn textiles, broken jewelry, scraps of paper, fibers pulled from something that once had another life. These fragments are never just objects to me; they are carriers of memory. In my process, imperfection isn’t something to erase, but an opening to imagine what else might emerge.

My creative roots run deep. I grew up surrounded by my mother’s drawers of craft supplies, sewing on my great-grandmother’s machine, and antiquing with my grandfather, who taught me to see beauty in overlooked things. Later, I earned my BFA in Theatrical Design with a focus on Costuming, which gave me a foundation in storytelling through material and form. Over time, these threads wove together into a fine art practice centered on reclamation, transformation, and becoming.

Alongside my visual art, I also write. I published a children’s book called What to Do with Unhappiness, which explores emotional intelligence and how even difficult feelings can be transformed. Whether through writing or visual art, my goal is the same: to create work that holds space for honesty, healing, and possibility.

Today, my art is shown in galleries and exhibitions regionally and nationally, and my work has found homes as far away as Austria. What sets my practice apart is the way it bridges material history with personal and collective narrative. Each piece begins with fragments of the past and becomes a layered meditation on what could be—an exploration of impermanence, resilience, and renewal.

What I’m most proud of is not a single piece or show, but the way my work resonates with others. When someone encounters a piece and feels both the weight of memory and the hope of transformation, I know the work is doing what it’s meant to do. More than anything, I want people to know that my art—and my book—are both rooted in the same belief: we are always in motion, always becoming, always carrying the possibility of new life.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

In my view, the best way society can support artists and a thriving creative ecosystem is by broadening how we define what “support” looks like. Too often, the image we hold of an art collector is someone with deep pockets at a Sotheby’s auction, paddle in hand. But I don’t believe that’s the only way—or even the truest way—to sustain creativity.

Support begins with intention. It’s about noticing, about giving attention to original thought, about valuing the work of artists who are alive right now, taking risks, and creating despite the odds. And appreciation doesn’t require millions of dollars—it just requires focus, energy, and presence.

Showing up matters. Attending a gallery opening, even if you know you can’t buy anything, changes the energy of the room. Your presence says: this work matters, you matter. That alone sustains artists more than most people realize. Support can also look like bringing home small treasures: a zine, a handmade mug, a $3 sticker. These aren’t just objects—they’re pieces of someone’s creative courage that you’ve chosen to honor.

And support extends beyond transactions. Sharing an artist’s work online, telling a friend about a show, or curating a space in your home for the creative things you’ve gathered—all of these acts turn appreciation into connection. They help shift the story from “starving artist” to “sustained artist.”

At its core, supporting artists isn’t about how much you spend—it’s about how you see. Every small purchase, every visit, every kind word, every share online is an act of collecting, and each one helps build the ecosystem that allows creativity to thrive.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

I think one of the hardest things for non-creatives to understand about my journey is that inspiration truly comes from everywhere — and it makes me want to do everything. A fragment of fabric, a scrap of paper, a line in a song, a conversation with a stranger — any of it can spark an idea, and suddenly I want to explore a dozen directions at once. To some people, that can look scattered, but for me it’s the heartbeat of creativity. I’m not trying to narrow my vision to one lane; I’m trying to stay open to the abundance of possibility around me.

The other piece that’s difficult to explain is my desire to live fully in the present moment. As a creative, I want to immerse myself in the now — to feel, to notice, to respond in real time. That’s where the work comes alive. But we live in a culture that constantly pulls us into the past with regret, or the future with worry. We’re told to measure ourselves by long-term goals, productivity, and outcomes, and it can feel like a constant tug-of-war against the very way creativity works.

What I’ve learned is that creativity flourishes when I give myself permission to be here — to gather, to notice, to follow the spark without immediately demanding a plan or a result. That’s the space where transformation happens, both in my art and in my life. If there’s any insight I’d want to offer, it’s that presence itself is a practice worth cultivating. You don’t have to be an artist to benefit from it — but as an artist, it’s the air I breathe.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ashleydelaneyart.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ashleydelaneyart
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ashleydelaneyart/

Image Credits

I am the owner of these images