We recently had the chance to connect with Mrs. Stephanie Swain and have shared our conversation below.
Good morning Stephanie, we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
I lose track of time in two ways: when I’m with people who are perfectly at ease, or when I’m alone with my hands deep in creating. Most often, it’s while chasing a new idea or coaxing a technique into being. The world shifts. Sometimes it softens into an easy calm. Other times it narrows until there’s only me, my work, and the next deliberate move.
Bright, clashing colors with rich textures have a way of pulling me under. When I’m making, music wraps around me—anything from Dune’s late-90s electronic pulse to Zeppelin’s grit to the winding stories of Jim Croce and Rebekah Todd. With AuHD, my mood can shift from lighthearted to laser-focused in an instant. Once that focus is broken, it can be hard to find the thread again.
Usually, hunger is what calls me back. The hours I spend there are sacred. They are where I pour my whole self into the work, where making becomes mending. They refill the well and leave me with the spark to keep going.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Alphanie, the hands and heart behind Alphanie Artistry. My work lives at the crossroads of whimsy and craft: face painting, festival glitter, temporary tattoos, and an ever-growing collection of handmade goods from knitwear to stickers and buttons. Think bold colors, playful detail, and just enough Wonderland to make you tilt your head and smile.
What makes my work special is the way it connects people to joy, even in small moments. At festivals and markets, I’ve seen a swirl of glitter or a painted design transform someone’s whole day. In my studio, I’m constantly exploring new ideas, from Lewis Carroll–inspired tarot cards to immersive games that blend art, storytelling, and tactile play.
Right now, I’m deep in both event season and creative projects, building out new designs that carry that same sense of wonder you find when you stumble into a place you didn’t know you needed. Everything I make is meant to be a little spark—something you keep, wear, or remember long after you’ve walked away.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
David, my husband, has been that constant presence since 2006. One moment that stands out is when I first told him I wanted to start my business. I laid out my thoughts, half expecting him to laugh it off or treat it like a far-off dream. Instead, he simply said, “Let’s do it.”
At the time, I’d nearly convinced myself that owning a successful business was a pipe dream. His support gave me a sense of power and authority I didn’t know I could have. He saw potential in me long before I could see it in myself, and his trust solidified my own belief in my abilities.
This year we celebrate 14 years married and 19 years together. His support has never wavered, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be without it. One thing is certain—without David, Alphanie Artistry wouldn’t exist.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
When I was young, my mother lived with Multiple Sclerosis, and much of her care fell to me. My father worked full-time, my sisters had their own paths to walk, and I learned quickly what responsibility meant. People called me an old soul, but I think I simply grew up fast. That time gave me a deep well of empathy and the ability to meet others in their struggles with an understanding few can.
At nine, I was attacked by a Great Dane, leaving scars across my face and shoulder. The physical healing was long, but the quiet social wounds lasted longer. My fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Muse, helped me see that hurt people often hurt others, and my father reminded me of my value by teaching me to work with my hands—building decks, fixing what was broken, staying busy. Those lessons became the bones of my kindness, even when it cost me.
Loss has been another teacher. I’ve said goodbye to great-grandparents, a grandfather and uncle, my college mentor Mark Morris, my grandmother, my mother, and most recently my father. His life—full, fearless, and lived in spite of many close calls—taught me how precious and fragile time can be. I create both in remembrance of those I’ve lost and because of them, carrying their light forward in my work.
Art has been my constant. I write daily in my bullet junk journal and find my deepest healing in painting, especially for others. When someone’s face lights up at a design I’ve painted, that joy stitches something back together in me. Social acceptance for my art is a balm, but it’s the individual spark in each person that truly mends my soul. At the heart of it all, art is the thread that has carried me through.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
I believe everyone deserves to be happy, and I take quiet joy in the small things that bring a smile—a painted cheek, a kind word, a shared laugh. All life is sacred. Every moment matters, no matter how ordinary it may seem.
I’ve learned that I am enough. We all wish life would line up neatly, that we’d always get it right. But it doesn’t, and that’s okay. Failure can be a teacher if you let it. I measure my days in moments: bursts of laughter, the weight of a hug that holds back tears, the spark when my work connects with someone’s heart. Each of those is a little lantern, lighting the way forward.
I don’t believe there’s one truth to art. It’s as varied as the people who make it. A piece can feel like a mirror, showing you something you’ve always known, or it can feel like an alien wonder that reshapes the way you see. No matter the medium, art is form given to a piece of the artist’s soul, and every soul has its own truth to share.
And I believe in appreciating what’s “normal.” The strange and the bizarre can only shimmer when there’s something ordinary to measure them against. Without one, the other loses its magic.
Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. Are you doing what you were born to do—or what you were told to do?
When I was younger, I was told I should go into robotics or computer networking. That was “the way to make a life.” Practical. Predictable. Safe.
But I felt a pull in another direction, like something in the aether was whispering to be brought to life. I’ve always known, deep down, that my soul was meant to create—art not just for myself, but for others to enjoy, connect with, and carry with them.
Now, I can look at my kids and know I’m doing right by them. They can see me living the life I was called to, not the one I was told to choose. I want to be someone they can look up to, a reminder that building your own path is possible, and worth it.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.alphanieartistry.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alphanieartistry
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alphanieartistry
Image Credits
Stephanie Swain
