Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Nicole Hakola. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Nicole, appreciate you joining us today. Has your work ever been misunderstood or mischaracterized?

I realize that my process is very unique. I don’t know of too many artists who bring God into their work. I also realize that a lot of people don’t believe in God, creating a fear that my artwork will only appeal to people with faith-based beliefs. But even that, many people who believe in God don’t believe that He can speak to you. Even as I type this paragraph, I risk being misunderstood and characterized as a spiritual freak or a psycho- “She hears voices”. I believe God created man and gave him a body, mind, and spirit. Your spirit connects with Him, you just have to learn to recognize it.

When I was building my brand, I had to get real with myself and ask hard questions about how I wanted to market my art and present it to the world. Will I be ok with being misunderstood or labeled “freak,” rejected by the vast amount of art collectors and appeal to only a few people who go to church and want it all for free. (My experience with bringing my art to events at church and people wanting it for cheap or free- makes me chuckle). In my mind, I had a couple of choices: leave the process with God out and just present the art as “what I felt in the moment.” Or keep the process in, but instead of saying words like”faith” and “God” use words like “authentic self” and “my spirit.” I was really afraid of going all in and marketing as, “art that carries the heart of God.” Growing up I struggled a lot with rejection and trying to fit in. The last thing I wanted was to be rejected again in the art community and characterized only as “Christian art.” I found myself wanting to fit in and be like the rest, don’t be weird, be cool.

I remember asking my husband and consulting some friends about what to do. They all had the same conclusion: “Stay true to who you are.” I think that is a huge lesson we all have to learn. Don’t make decisions based on fear. It is there as a warning; never let it dictate your future.

Obviously, I have embraced this. Yes, I have a niche, but I am also less afraid of being rejected and misunderstood. Everyone needs encouragement, healing or a reminder of hope and if I were to water down my process, the message behind it would get lost. Sure it is nice to look at, but now they can feel what they feel from one of my pieces and also know it was painted with he intent to say, “your pain is seen and healing is here.”

Nicole, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m Nicole Faye, a fine artist with a deep love for storytelling through texture, color, and faith-inspired symbolism. My journey into art began as a personal exploration—a way to process life’s beauty, pain, and healing through paint. What started as a form of reflection and encouragement gradually evolved into a calling: to create spirit-led works that resonate on a soul level.

I offer original fine art, prints, and custom commissions—each piece created with prayer, intention, and emotional honesty. Whether I’m working on abstract paintings or textured mixed-media pieces, my goal is the same: to speak to the unseen moments of transformation, healing, and hope that we all experience.

What sets my work apart is the process itself. I don’t just paint—I listen. I pause. Some people say they hear from “the universe,” but I choose to say, “God.” I believe it’s my spirit connecting with His. Faith is at the center of my process. Many times, I don’t know what the final piece will be when I start. I rely on spontaneous inspiration, staying open to whatever message is meant to come through. Often, my collectors are drawn to my work during moments of spiritual growth, emotional healing, or when they simply need peace and encouragement in their space.

I’m honored when people describe my work as “deeply personal,” “anointed,” or “felt before it’s understood.” One piece, Refreshing began with five red hearts on a canvas I inherited from my sister. At first, I didn’t know what the piece would become—it was just something I felt drawn to hold onto. Over time, it transformed completely. The first layer was whitewashed, symbolizing a kind of surrender, a blank slate. Then came deeper, moodier tones—burgundy, teal, and textured segments that felt like pieces of something once whole, now scattered.

As I continued working, I felt led to connect those segments with fine lines and soft blue hues. It was a slow process, layered over months, even years. At one point, I thought the piece was finished and put it away. But God brought me back to it. I picked it up again and, this time, felt prompted to pour paint across the segmented boxes, unifying the separate elements into something whole. It was in that moment I sensed God whispering to my spirit, “I’m taking the broken pieces of your heart and making them whole.”

What started as an old canvas with simple red hearts became a layered, five-year visual conversation about healing. It mirrored my own journey—the seasons of brokenness, waiting, and slow restoration. That piece became a symbol of healing—not just for me, but for anyone who sees their own journey reflected in it.

Each painting is its own conversation, often starting with one idea and ending with something unexpected—just like life. The final brushstrokes become like a pen, writing down what I sense God wants to say to the viewer. And even though I may describe the meaning behind a piece, it often takes on a personal significance for the collector. They see their story, their hope, their reminder that they are seen, loved, and not alone.

That’s what I want people to understand: my art isn’t just about what you see—it’s about what you feel. It’s about creating space for reflection, welcoming God into the conversation, and holding space for mystery and hope. While my faith shapes every piece I create, my art is for everyone. You don’t need to believe what I believe to connect with it. We all long for love, healing, and connection. We all wrestle with pain, loss, and the search for meaning. These shared experiences are the heartbeat behind each work.

Through color, texture, and brushstrokes, my process becomes a visual love letter—offering hope and encouragement to our places of pain. A reminder that even in the middle of the mess, beauty is still being written, and we are deeply loved.

Video link about another art painting and its process: https://studio.youtube.com/playlist/PLoi87CbZUGVW9Dqr9gWe-FTyL7FNdKTrg/edit

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

I am a natural-born encourager. It makes so much sense to me why I want people to feel uplifted, seen, and deeply encouraged when they experience my art. That’s the heartbeat behind everything I create. Each piece is more than just paint on canvas—it’s a visual conversation filled with intention, prayer, and emotional honesty.

That’s why I take the time to write about my process and share the meaning behind each work. I want the story and spirit behind the piece to continue speaking long after it’s left my hands. Whether it reminds someone of who they are, offers hope for the future, or simply brings peace in a chaotic moment, I want my art to minister to the heart in whatever way it’s needed.

My mission is to create work that reflects light in dark places, beauty in brokenness, and truth in the tension. I believe art has the power to meet people right where they are—and my hope is that every piece I make becomes a reminder that they are not alone, that their story matters, and that healing and hope are always possible.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

Rejected and feeling not good enough are things I think we all struggle with, but I definitely fought those feelings most of my life. As an artist, the fear of not measuring up showed up everywhere—in the silence after a post, in the comparisons I made scrolling through others’ work, in the quiet voice that asked, “Who do you think you are?” every time I picked up a brush.

For a long time, I believed my worth was tied to what I created—how good it was, how many people liked it, how “successful” it looked. But that belief only fed the fear. I was living from a false identity—one rooted in performance, not in truth.
I remember one of my first showings. A friend of mine reached out to me and said the tattoo studio where she works highlights artists’ work on their display wall every quarter. She would love for me to be one of the featured artists.

I was so excited! When the time came to hang the art, the owner was there to assist me. She had a cold, disapproving demeanor towards me. I tried brushing it off and kept hanging the art, when she stopped me and questioned how I was hanging the pieces, criticizing my lack of artistic flow, “Don’t you know how to hang artwork?” I imagine she was looking for a deeper answer other than, “with a hammer and nail?” After we corrected the flow and started creating a nice emphasis on the wall. I remember she reached in the box to pull out another piece and said with one simple, crushing question, “Did you not go to art school?”—Everything in me deflated. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and suddenly unsure I belonged there at all. She shrugged it off like it was nothing, but that moment redefined my life forever.

Not 3 months went by and I enrolled in one of the top 20 schools in the US at the time for film and art. I wanted to be excellent in what I do. I told myself that something like that would never happen again. But even with training and experience, the rejection followed me.

I remember showing my portfolio to a professor I admired—someone established in the art world, someone whose opinion carried weight. His response? “It looks amateur.” Another dagger. And just like that, I let his words define me. I allowed fear to creep in and take root. I took his words as truth, maybe I wasn’t good enough— my value hinged on the approval of others or the perfection of my work.

However, I pressed on and kept painting.

It took years to recognize that I was living from a false identity—one built on striving and external validation. I hadn’t yet learned what I now know deeply: that your work is not your identity. What you do is not who you are. Rather, the way you see yourself shapes the way you show up in the world. Because I never gave up on my dreams of filmmaking and art, I now have a job as a videographer and continue to make art pieces that make people stop in amazement.

Learning to see myself the way God sees me changed everything. Once you begin to live from that true identity, fear loses its grip.

Now, when rejection comes—and yes, it still comes—I don’t crumble like I used to. I recognize the fear, name it for what it is, and face it. I keep painting—not to prove I belong, but because it’s part of who I already am. My identity isn’t up for debate. It’s secure.

My creative journey has become less about perfection and more about purpose. I don’t just paint to make something beautiful. I paint to encourage the heart, to speak truth using color and texture, to remind myself—and others—that our worth is never determined by performance or applause. It’s rooted in something much deeper.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://nicolefayeart.square.site
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nicki_faye
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nicloefayecreates
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nicolefayehakola7
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTB96xv3Fag52-UFFfbwUPw

Image Credits

Images by Nicole Hakola