Today we’d like to introduce you to Maria Geary.
Hi Maria, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
My path to becoming an artist was anything but traditional. I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming one, and I certainly didn’t go to art school. In fact, it took me about 50 years to get here—which is pretty amazing considering I’m only 45!
Before becoming a full-time artist, I had two careers that I thought, at different times, I would do for the rest of my life. I spent almost ten years as a 911 dispatcher in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where I’m from. After moving to North Carolina, I eventually found my way into project management, a career I stayed in for more than 15 years.
Both careers could be incredibly stressful, and somewhere along the way, creativity became the place where I could breathe. I scrapbooked, made greeting cards, crocheted, cross stitched and collected more art supplies than I probably needed. I worked from home for part of my project management career, and I jokingly called my workspace my “offudio”—office on one side, craft studio on the other.
One Friday evening after a particularly difficult week, I was sitting at my table playing with paper and said out loud, “This feels so good. I am relaxing in art!”
That moment eventually became the name of my business, Relaxing In Art, but it took me a while longer to realize that creativity was becoming much more than a hobby.
After being laid off from project management, I decided the sensible thing to do was go back to college, finish my degree and find another job. I was 50 years old. I completed the semester, made the Dean’s List and promptly decided, “That’s nice. I’m not going back. I’ll just be an artist.”
There was just one small problem: I didn’t know much about art.
I remember telling my husband about my revelation and then asking him, “What color makes blue?” I knew blue and yellow made green, so surely something made blue. The look on his face said everything. “Honey, blue is blue.”
So there I was—a newly self-declared artist who didn’t know basic color theory.
I started anyway.
I played with the supplies I had accumulated over the years and gave myself permission to experiment. Eventually I discovered mixed media, and something clicked. Why use only paint when I could combine paint with paper, thread, fabric, found objects or just about anything else that interested me? I fell in love with layers, tactile surfaces and visual texture. Making became part of my daily creative practice.
Calling myself an artist, however, took much longer. I struggled with whether my work was “good enough” and felt intimidated by artists with formal training. Eventually I realized that being self-taught wasn’t something I needed to hide. Curiosity, experimentation and asking “What if?” became an important part of how I developed my own artistic voice.
That exploration eventually led me more deeply into fiber art and to Every Apron Has a Story, a body of work that began as a tribute to my grandmothers and great-grandmother, women I remember wearing aprons as part of their everyday lives. The series has since grown beyond my own family stories and into work that explores memory, identity and the lived experiences of others.
Teaching also became an unexpected but important part of my journey. I began working as a teaching artist and discovered that many of the things that helped me find my own creative voice—play, experimentation, reflection and permission not to know exactly what you’re doing—were the same things I wanted to give to others.
Art journaling became especially meaningful to me. I began writing in diaries when I was about 12 as a way to process what was happening in my life. Years later, that experience helped shape the way I teach young people to combine writing and art as forms of personal expression. Something that began as a way for me to cope and find my own voice eventually became something I could share with others.
Today, I’m a mixed media and fiber artist and teaching artist, and Relaxing In Art has grown into something I never could have imagined when I first said those words in my offudio.
I sometimes think about how hard I worked to ignore the call to create because becoming an artist wasn’t part of my plan. Now I realize that so many seemingly unrelated pieces of my life—the stressful careers, making greeting cards, writing in journals, discovering mixed media, teaching and even starting over later in life—weren’t unrelated at all.
They were all part of the story.
And I still don’t know exactly where this creative journey is leading me. I’ve just gotten much better at answering when it calls.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road, but I think much of my struggle has been internal.
Another challenge has been learning to step outside of my comfort zone. I’m an introvert and perfectly content in my studio cocoon making art. Unfortunately, building a career as an artist occasionally requires coming out of the cocoon! I’ve had to learn to network, apply for opportunities, attend openings, talk about my work and sometimes walk into spaces where I wasn’t completely sure I belonged.
I’ve also learned that being a working artist involves much more than making art. On any given day, I may be an artist, teaching artist, accountant, marketing department, supply manager, webmaster, administrator and IT support—and I’m not particularly qualified for all of those positions! Learning the business side while protecting enough time and energy to actually create continues to be a balancing act.
I don’t think I’ve reached a point where all of the uncertainty has disappeared. I’m still learning, stretching and occasionally questioning myself. The difference is that I don’t let those questions stop me the way they once did.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
My creative practice lives at the intersection of mixed media, fiber art, storytelling and teaching. I love combining materials that aren’t necessarily expected to live together—paint, paper, fabric, thread, found objects and recycled materials—and seeing what happens. Texture is a big part of my work, both visually and tactilely. I’m probably happiest when I’m asking, “What if I tried this?”
My work as a teaching artist is just as important to me as my studio practice. I work with children, teens and adults through art journaling, mixed media and fiber-based experiences. I’m less interested in teaching someone how to make something exactly the way I make it and much more interested in helping them discover what happens when they give themselves permission to experiment.
Writing and reflection are often woven into my teaching because I’ve experienced firsthand how powerful it can be to have a place to express what you may not be ready—or even able—to say aloud. Art journaling gives my students another language for personal expression.
Of all the work I’ve created, I’m most proud of my ongoing fiber art series, Every Apron Has a Story. It began very personally, as a way to honor my grandmothers and great-grandmother and the women whose aprons were simply part of their everyday lives. I initially thought I was telling family stories, but the series began to grow into something much deeper.
Over time, I found myself drawn to other people’s stories and to subjects that made me stop and really examine our humanity. The aprons have allowed me to explore compassion, mental health, injustice, identity, colorism, generational experiences and the ways we carry one another’s stories.
I’ve learned to pay attention when I have a visceral reaction to something I hear or read. Instead of immediately deciding what I want to say about it, I’ve learned to sit quietly with the story and listen. Sometimes an image begins to form; sometimes it takes much longer. That process has changed not only the apron series but me as an artist.
I’m proud that something that began with memories of the women in my family has evolved into work that asks larger questions about how we see, understand and care for one another. I don’t necessarily want the aprons to give viewers answers. If they cause someone to stop, look a little longer, feel something or leave with a question they didn’t have before, then the work has done something meaningful.
If there’s something that sets my work apart, I think it’s that combination of reflection and play. The work can hold serious stories, but the process of making doesn’t have to feel intimidating. Whether I’m creating an apron about a difficult subject, helping students make their first hand-bound journal or encouraging adults to experiment with unfamiliar materials, I’m interested in creating space for curiosity, story and connection.
I want people to leave an experience with me knowing that creativity isn’t reserved for people who know that blue is a primary color.
Apparently, you can learn that part along the way.
Can you talk to us a bit about the role of luck?
I don’t really believe in luck, and I don’t believe much in coincidences either. I believe in faith, preparation, relationships and being willing to recognize an opportunity when it presents itself.
There have certainly been moments in my career that someone else might describe as “lucky.” I’ve met the right person at the right time, been encouraged to apply for an opportunity I might not have pursued on my own, received a grant when I needed support for a new body of work, and had one opportunity lead unexpectedly to another.
But I tend to look at those moments differently.
My faith is an important part of my life, so I believe there has been guidance throughout this journey—even when I couldn’t see where I was being led. Looking back, I can see how experiences and relationships that seemed unrelated at the time eventually connected. Some doors opened. Others closed. And sometimes a closed door was what pushed me toward something I never would have considered otherwise.
I’ve also learned that an opportunity doesn’t do much good if you’re unwilling to step through the door. As an introvert, that has sometimes been the hard part for me! I’ve had to learn to apply, show up, introduce myself, ask questions and say yes before I feel completely ready.
My creative community has played an enormous role as well. People have recommended me for opportunities, challenged me to apply for things, introduced me to others and sometimes simply said, “You should do this,” when I wasn’t sure I should. I don’t consider those relationships luck. I consider them gifts.
So while I wouldn’t describe my journey as lucky, I do feel incredibly blessed. I try to remain open, do the work, nurture relationships, stay prepared for what’s next and trust God with the parts I can’t see yet.
I am learning that I don’t always need to know where the road is leading before I’m willing to take the next step.
Pricing:
- In-studio creative workshops start at $45 per person, with most materials included. Workshops are beginner-friendly and focus on creativity, experimentation and personal expression rather than everyone creating the same finished piece.
- Private small-group workshops are available for friends, organizations, staff gatherings and other groups. Pricing varies depending on the project, group size and materials.
- School residencies, teaching-artist programs and community workshops are available and can be customized for different ages, schedules and program goals. Pricing is based on the scope of the project.
- Workshops may include mixed media, art journaling, book arts, fiber art and other creative experiences, with new offerings added throughout the year.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.relaxinginart.com
- Instagram: @relaxinginart
- Facebook: @relaxinginart
