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Story & Lesson Highlights with Sonia Pal

Sonia Pal shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi Sonia, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: What’s more important to you—intelligence, energy, or integrity?
Integrity.
Energy can be manufactured. Intelligence can be masked. But integrity is how your work feels when you’re not explaining it. It’s what your art carries even when no one’s watching.

But not the kind that makes you sound noble in a podcast bio.

I’m talking about the kind that shows up when you’re offered something shiny – and you walk away.

There was a moment a couple years ago when I had the chance to list my products on a well-known platform (I won’t name names). It’s a massive wholesale platform with the kind of exposure most small creative businesses dream of. But it didn’t sit right.

That platform is built for scale. I’m built for resonance. And I knew that if I chased that kind of growth, I’d have to compromise the slowness, the handwritten notes, the made-with-heart pieces that define my brand.
So I said no. Quietly, without a press release. I went back to the studio and made something new.

That’s integrity to me. The quiet kind, the kind that doesn’t trend but does endure.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Sonia. I run a slow art studio called ASquareWatermelon, where rest is strategy and ribbons are a creative medium.

What do I do? I make beautiful things — wallpaper, fabric designs, art prints, journals, systems. But really, I’m here to design pauses and rituals. Tiny altars disguised as everyday objects.

My brand was born during a season when everything went still. No growth hacks, no hustle. Just ink, breath, and the realization that slowness doesn’t mean stopping, it means listening.

ASquareWatermelon exists for people who see metaphors in moth wings and turn their desktop folders into moodboards. The ones who save the handwritten note, not just the gift. The ones who know that beauty isn’t decoration… it’s medicine.

Right now, I’m quietly rebuilding my website, pruning what no longer fits, and preparing for the next creative release. There’s no big launch announcement yet — just the hum of work being done with care.

Also, I recently spilled walnut ink on my favorite dress. Which feels exactly on brand.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
The Myth of “Fine”
False ease breaks bonds. You know… the “I’m fine,” the “All good,” the smile that holds back the truth.

Most distance doesn’t come from conflict, it comes from the slow erosion of honesty. We edit ourselves to keep things smooth, but end up feeling unseen.

What restores us is brave softness. The text that says, “Actually, I’m unraveling a little.” Or, “I don’t know what I need, but I wanted to tell you anyway.”
In both relationships and business, the turning point is always vulnerability. That’s the thread and the invitation back.

My brand carries that tone; honest beauty, imperfect offerings, emotion baked into the ink. Because connection isn’t built on perfection. It’s built on resonance.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
Keep the journals. Even when they feel like clutter.
Even when you don’t know what you’re writing. Even when it’s just grocery lists and half-thoughts and daydreams about someday.

Because hidden in there are the seeds of everything, the voice you’ll come back to, the pattern you didn’t know was forming, the version of you that already knew.

It won’t make sense yet. That’s fine. Just keep the journals because they’re not clutter. They’re maps.
I would also tell her, you’re not dramatic, you’re paying attention.

One day, the thing you’re crying about will become a print, a pin, or a paragraph someone saves on their phone.
Also: Stop pretending you like charcoal. You don’t. You’re a pen and ink girl. Just admit it.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? Is the public version of you the real you?
Yes — but it’s the metabolized version of me.

What you see publicly is real. Every word, every product, every pin is mine. But it’s the part that’s been processed. Transformed and turned into something I can offer without flinching. The griefs I’ve painted through. The lessons I’ve turned into print collections. The truths that made it through the edit.

The rawer parts like the heartbreaks, the doubt, the tangled stuff, they’re still present. Just not always visible. Those parts live in the journals and in the unfinished drafts. In the patterns I haven’t released yet. And that gap between what’s lived and what’s shared that’s where I protect the work and myself.

So yes, what you see is true. But what you don’t see? That’s still becoming.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What are you doing today that won’t pay off for 7–10 years?
I’m building an archive.

Quietly, piece by piece… through prints, journals, essays, collections that never got launched but taught me something anyway. Through posts and pins that feel like prayers. Through folders of things I’m not ready to share yet.

I don’t know exactly what shape it will take. Maybe it’s a book. Maybe it’s a gallery. Maybe it’s just a breadcrumb trail someone else will follow when they need permission to slow down.

But I know this: I’m not just making products. I’m making a body of work.
And one day, someone will stumble across it — and feel less alone in their longing.

Contact Info:

Image Credits
Artist Portrait Photo Credit: Kearsten Leder (https://www.kearstenleder.com/)

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