There is something special about Sunday mornings. The world seems to slow down, granting us moments of peace before the rhythm of the week begins again. I find myself savoring these mornings—no rush, no demands—just a cup of coffee in bed, soft light filtering through the curtains, and the quiet hum of life still asleep. In these serene moments, I let my mind wander freely, often to the canvas and the paintings that are yet to be created.

Recently, life has been full of changes, and with them, an abundance of new beginnings. But the most beautiful transformation has been finding the time and space to truly dive into my art. Painting has always been a form of self-expression for me, but now, more than ever, it feels like my most authentic voice.

Something I've come to realize is that the traditional idea of working within a "collection" no longer suits me. For a while, I tried it—grouping works together in a formal way, binding them to a theme or a story. But it felt limiting, almost like trying to bottle up creativity. It wasn’t how I wanted to express myself. Instead, I've embraced a new approach, one that feels more fluid and more organic. I paint in pairs or small groups, works that share a certain vibe, a connection that isn't forced but rather felt. Mini collections? Art sets? I’m not entirely sure what to call them, but whatever they are, they flow naturally from one to the next. It’s a process that feels more like unfolding than a structured series. And in this unfolding, I’ve found freedom.

Lately, I’ve noticed something magical about the color blue. There are endless shades and tones, and each one whispers its own story. Indigo, Prussian blue, royal blue, navy, sky blue, azure, sapphire, baby blue—I could go on and on. Each shade is like a note in a symphony, carrying its own emotion and its own rhythm. What I’ve discovered is that blue, in all its forms, offers me an infinite range of possibilities for expressing myself. It’s calming yet powerful, cool yet warm, mysterious yet familiar.

My works have all been infused with blue, and perhaps that’s no coincidence. Maybe it's the tranquility I’ve been seeking or the depth I’ve been exploring in my own thoughts. For example, "Shimmering Tides" and "Where Sunlight Dances on the Ocean's Surface". Both pieces are drenched in varying shades of blue, capturing the essence of water, light, and movement.

"Shimmering Tides" feels like standing at the edge of the sea as the sun dips low, casting a golden hue across the waves. The blues in this piece are deep and rich, with hints of light breaking through, like the reflection of the sky in the water. There’s a sense of constant motion, of ebb and flow, yet also a peaceful stillness that draws you in. The painting is a reminder that, just like the tides, life moves in cycles—sometimes turbulent, sometimes calm—but always beautiful in its rhythm.

"Where Sunlight Dances on the Ocean's Surface" captures a different kind of energy. It’s lighter and more playful, with vibrant blues that shimmer as if sunlight is truly dancing across the water. I wanted to convey the joy and lightness that come with those perfect moments by the sea, where the world seems to disappear and all that remains is the sound of waves and the sparkle of light. The blues in this painting are more luminous, and they seem to shift with the changing light, just like the ocean itself.

What I love about painting with blue is how it can transform, depending on how it’s used. It can be as expansive as the sky, as deep as the ocean, or as delicate as the morning mist. There’s no end to its possibilities, and in that, I find endless inspiration.

Each time I pick up my brush, I’m reminded that there are no rules in art. There’s only what feels true in the moment. And right now, blue is what feels true to me. It’s the color of my thoughts, the color of my dreams, the color of the moments I cherish most. In these quiet Sunday mornings, as I sip my coffee and let my mind drift, I imagine new ways to bring that color to life on the canvas.

So, I’ll continue painting my art sets—my little collections of connected works that speak to each other in subtle ways. Whether it’s two, three, or five paintings, they’ll each carry a piece of me, bound together not by a strict theme but by a shared feeling, a shared vision. And for now, that vision is blue.

Until next time,

Ewa