Chapter 5: Finding Community
As my journey with resin art unfolded, I began to realize that art, like healing, isn’t meant to be done in isolation. What had started as a personal exploration soon became something I wanted to share and discuss, and this need for connection led me to seek out others who understood the medium. I joined online groups, followed resin artists, and began interacting with creators who, like me, had found meaning and solace in the transformative nature of art.
The first time I shared a piece I had created, I felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability. What if others didn’t like it? What if my work didn’t measure up to theirs? But the community I found was anything but judgmental. They welcomed me with open arms, commenting with encouraging words, offering helpful feedback, and genuinely celebrating my progress. The warmth of this group felt like a balm, easing the lingering doubts I held about my work and my abilities. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged to something bigger than myself.
In resin groups, artists shared tips and tricks for achieving different effects, troubleshooting common issues, and experimenting with new techniques. Each post was an invitation to learn, and each comment was an open hand of support. I began connecting with other artists who were on their own journeys, each of us exploring this fluid, unpredictable medium and sharing our unique stories through it. Some people were working through their own struggles, finding comfort in the creative process just as I had. Others were seasoned artists eager to offer advice to newcomers. The diversity of experiences and perspectives made every interaction feel like a gift, a reminder that we were all united by the desire to create something meaningful.
In this community, I found people who truly understood the healing power of art. They knew the meditative quality of watching resin pour and flow, the way a piece could take on a life of its own, and the satisfaction that comes from transforming raw materials into something beautiful. I didn’t have to explain why resin was meaningful to me—they understood because it was meaningful to them, too. They shared their own stories of how resin had helped them cope with loss, manage anxiety, or simply find joy in life’s simple moments. Through these exchanges, I felt less alone, not only in my art but in my grief.
The support of this community gave me the courage to keep creating, to keep pushing my boundaries and trying new things. I began to experiment with colors I hadn’t tried before, attempt new techniques, and even tackle more ambitious projects. Knowing there was a network of people who would cheer me on no matter the outcome kept me motivated, even on days when self-doubt crept back in. Their encouragement became a powerful force that helped me find the confidence to take my art to the next level.
Through this network of artists, creators, and friends, I found inspiration not only in their work but in their resilience. They reminded me that we are all connected by our desire to create and that creativity can be a powerful, unifying force. Resin art was no longer just about expressing myself; it became about sharing, learning, and growing alongside others. It transformed into a space where I could feel understood, valued, and connected.
Looking back, finding this community was one of the most unexpected yet transformative parts of my journey. It reminded me that, even after loss, life can offer new beginnings, and that art has the power not only to heal but to unite us in ways we might never expect. With every piece I created and shared, I felt my own story intertwining with those of others, creating a shared tapestry of resilience, creativity, and hope.