Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Sara Greyfox. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Alright, Sara thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. What did your parents do right and how has that impacted you in your life and career?
The more I experience of the world, the more grateful I am for how I was raised.
I’m the oldest of 8 kids, and we were all homeschooled in Idaho, on a 20-acre farm, in a tiny house with three bedrooms and one bathroom for the 10 of us. It was as humble an upbringing as I could have gotten. We chopped and hauled wood for our fireplace in the winters, and pulled weeds from the garden and canned food in the summers. On the wall in my parent’s living room hangs a giant quote that says “work hard and be nice to people” —I’d say this pretty well encapsulates what we had as far as rules growing up in our household. But where those simple rules stopped, freedom began.
My parents are both incredibly intelligent. I can’t imagine two better teachers to grow up learning from, both by their encouragement and their example. Even though as the oldest I was somewhat of a guinea pig, any question I had or curiosity I wanted to follow, I knew I could turn to them and they would facilitate my “becoming.” My mom bought over 10,000 books throughout my childhood, and would still drive us to the library every few weeks where I got to pick out any other volumes that sparked my interest. When we brought him his college physics text book, my dad sat down with my sister and I and read to us, then paraphrased, the components of the universe—from molecules and quarks to galaxy clusters—in a way that our young minds understood.
They taught us *how* to think, more than *what* to think, and left our learning up to us. I often heard the phrase “inspire not require” when my mom spoke about her homeschool philosophy. Each day I was told to do one math lesson, handwriting practice, and 6 hours of other learning, and to report back when I was done. I was set loose to follow my every curiosity, and learning was never a chore. And “learning” had many definitions and took many forms: It meant the engineering of our own rock fort in the back field. It meant teaching myself to build cursory local “websites” in Microsoft Publisher. It meant devouring book after book, classics and new fiction alike, while curled up following the patch of sunlight across my bedroom floor. It meant the written reports and giant tri-fold presentations I built on any subject that excited me that week; Benjamin Franklin’s inventions, hummingbirds, the life of King Tut.
Learning meant writing and binding my own books with wallpaper sample covers, and building dolls out of wire and crocheted doilies, with a tassel for a head. It meant the “secret club” I made for my siblings where we learned codes and cyphers and I set assignments to crack covert messages. It meant digging tunnels in the sandbox and building forts out of tree branches and broken cars. It meant baking and sewing 4-H, and collecting and identifying semi-precious stones from our craftsman-neighbor’s reject pile. It meant taking apart and repairing sewing machines and typewriters, and raising tadpoles in a bucket on the front porch. It meant the miniature families and cities that we sculpted out of polymer clay. It meant flower pressing and bird watching and letter writing and tree climbing. It meant cooking meals for the whole family, and helping my younger siblings learn how to read.
But most of all, learning meant finding out this: you’re in charge of your own life. You are accountable for your actions, and how they affect you, and others. It’s up to you to find what makes you happy—it’s up to you who you are. In the haven of that run-down little farm in Idaho, I got to learn about who I am.
My parents could have upgraded over the years; fixed the furnace; built a real laundry room; bought us non-thrifted clothes; bought cars where we wouldn’t have to learn stick-shift; added more bedrooms or at least a second bathroom. They could have afforded to give their kids a more “comfortable” lifestyle as the world sees it. They could have pushed any one of their bright, socially-intelligent kids into some impressive and high-earning career. But they set no expectations and kept us thriving on very little, on purpose. And I’m so glad they did. Growing up that way made it so that I can be happy anywhere, and with anything; I have literally lost every “thing,” and still had everything I need, within. Because of my parent’s wisdom, I have an absolutely priceless treasure that has informed so much of my adult life, creative career, and artistic practice.
Sara, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
I’m Sara, a versatile artist passionate about sharing the joy of creating with others. At the core of my artistic philosophy lies the mantra “Explore, Experiment, Express.” This reminds me to explore ideas the universe around me, experiment with mediums and ideas that ignite my curiosity, and express my inner world and cultivate its growth.
I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawn to art and design, and as a kid I had every opportunity to follow my curiosity to wherever it took me. I had freedom and craft supplies at my fingertips, and parents who let me explore the world around me in any way that made me feel excited and inspired. Everything about learning and creating felt magical to me—from physical science to fort building to covering my bedroom ceiling in my own art— and the older I got, the more mediums and concepts I felt compelled to discover. I loved tangible and digital mediums alike. I took photos and edited YouTube videos, and repurposed bread ties and vintage buttons into necklaces. I made clothes from hand-me-downs, and designed and distributed newsletters filled with my and my friend’s short stories, book reviews, and poems. I worked with paint and clay and wire and wood and stone and cassette tapes, combining and remixing every idea that struck me.
When I went as a teenager to my local art museum to get feedback on my portfolio from University representatives, it was the first time that someone told me I should narrow my focus; that I needed to pick a medium or a series, and be consistent. This didn’t sit right with me, but it did plant seeds of self-doubt. When I later got scholarships to art and design schools around the country, (who were either plenty impressed with my skill and test scores, or just wanted my money) I chose not to go to any of them—I still felt like I’d need to put myself in a box to succeed there. And if I’d taught myself everything thus far, what would stop me from doing so going forward?
Not having a degree didn’t prevent me from landing my first design job in my early 20s; my work spoke for itself, and I was soon the lead web and graphics designer at a small but profitable company in Utah. But after a while, unbeguiled by the steady income or bragging rights of my position, I realized the joy was lost to me, and that instead I wanted to explore more of what the world had to offer.
I lived in New Zealand and subsequently traveled much of the world, while nannying and helping to raise and teach children—the other area of my life as guaranteed as art and design to be endlessly fascinating and beautiful to me. I have always felt an incredible peace while spending time with those little beings who embody the best traits that humans have to offer—curiosity, playfulness, and unconditional love for both themselves and others.
That’s what I was doing when I relocated to Nashville, Tennessee during the pandemic—working with 5 kids preschool-aged and under to explore and discover and create, every day. I had kept up with various freelance and passion projects, but art hadn’t been a constant centerpiece to my life. But it had been about a decade of self-discovery, and I finally reconnected back to myself enough to reengage with that natural part of Sara that brought me so much joy when I was a kid myself. So in 2022 I officially started Greyfox Studios – the umbrella for all of my creative work, including everything from web and graphic design to content creation.
Having my own company has let me flex a multitude of creative muscles, from merch and album design to brand creation and video editing. And along with working for a few amazing clients on projects I couldn’t be more honored to be a part of, with the freedom over my own schedule, I finally found a way to explore my own creativity in a whole new—and deeply authentic— way, by starting my Art Prompt Card series and sharing it online.
The idea was to combat the decision-paralysis I experienced every time I sat down to create, by making my own random-generator cards, consisting of artistic mediums and subject matter, then shuffling and dealing the decks to let fate decide what my next artistic challenge would be. It worked wonders, and I finally started creating consistently again, while feeling excited and inspired every time, and in the process shared prompts with friends and followers alike, fostering a community in our shared love of art and creating.
At last I found a way to allow myself to explore every idea and medium that I’ve felt drawn to, while knowing that even throughout a breadth of materials and concepts, everything I was creating was in the one category or “niche,” (that also harkens back to what is was like for me as a kid): the challenge to create with whatever I’m given.
And you never know what can be sparked from a single prompt—for one, I pulled the random cards “metal” and “space,” and wound up making a solar system body chain that people loved so much, that it inspired me to create an entire jewelry collection that I started selling online just this past winter. Being willing to take on whatever the universe throws at us may not just lead to a single piece of art—it might spark new ideas, kindle new passions, or even set aflame an entire creative journey.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
In the summer of 2023 my home here in Nashville burned down. A tree fell during a storm, crushing my and my roommate’s cars, and pulling down the one power line that led to the building. That night the breaker box ignited in the vacated house, and I was told that it took a dozen fire trucks three hours to completely put out the blaze. I woke up to the news the next morning while visiting my family home.
I had with me on that trip my computer, my camera, and my all favorite 90s vintage frog and dinosaur t-shirts, and I genuinely realized: “what more do I need?” The process of returning to Nashville and digging through the aftermath of my home drove this point further and further into my heart, and forced me to connect even more deeply to the “why” of the art I had been making, and of the supplies I had been accumulating for a decade.
I lost almost everything I owned, including all of my paintings, most of my creations and art supplies, and the prompt card decks I’d made. And I had to ask myself: what is worthwhile for me to replace, or recreate? The answer: very, very little. There was one piece of décor that I went on a hunt to replace: a vintage glow-in-the-dark star map I’d found at a thrift store more than a decade earlier. But other than that, what I missed most was simply having art supplies — everything at my fingertips that I’d need to follow any kind of creative inspiration on a moment’s notice. Not for the end result, the *product*: but for the freedom I feel when I can be within the *process*.
I still haven’t been able to replace all of my supplies, but after a year and a half of rebuilding, I’ve finally reached a point where I’m restarting my creative practice. And the decks of cards I’m going to turn into my new Art Prompt Cards just came in the mail.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
When it comes to the work I do for my clients all around the country, there’s nothing that means more to me than when they give me their trust and confidence to handle an entire ecosystem of visual projects. The longer I work with someone, the more opportunities I have to learn and try new things, and I bring my genuine love for my work and curiosity into everything I create—and they know it. This has led to results that have meaning deeper than just making money—which in today’s world, feels so rare and precious to share, especially with people I respect so deeply and feel blessed to work with.
As for my personal creative practice, it’s all about sharing—or even igniting—the spark of creativity in others. I want to be a resource for inspiration and encouragement, and to be an example that it doesn’t take an art degree or expensive supplies to find joy in creating. I remind others to be curious and playful, to try new things, and to embrace the challenge, mess, and “failures” that come out of making art. I let them know that you don’t have to make money from something to justify spending time and effort on it. I remind them of what it was like when we were kids, to feel pure awe and curiosity and to be driven by the sheer joy of connecting with the world around us — whether that’s materials, each other, or ourselves. I’ve gotten some incredible feedback from strangers and friends alike about how I’ve reminded them to follow their own creative spark, and to me that means they’ve been empowered into an act of self-love — nothing means more to me than that.
In a time when consumption, frayed attention, and anxiousness are all rampant, I hope to be keep being even a small part of reminding people to love themselves and give them a place of safety, encouragement, and joy.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.saragreyfox.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/saragreyfox
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/saragreyfox
- Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/in/saragreyfox
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@saragreyfox
- Other: https://www.tiktok.com/@saragreyfox
Image Credits
All images © Greyfox Studios