“Each painting is part of a continuous tale,
capturing the moment and recording
the forever-changing landscape of life.”

— Randall Sexton

This past Friday, my day started a bit earlier than normal, as the CreativeMornings group in Montevideo was having their monthly event. 

After the event finished, I started walking back to my neighborhood in Montevideo. I thought I might stop into one of my favorite cafés for a cortado and a little sketching, as part of my 40 Days of Moments project. But not long after I began my walk, I looked to my right down an unsuspecting side street and was presented with a scene I couldn’t pass by without sketching it: A lovely historic home painted in various shades of turquoise, with a flowering hibiscus bush on its doorstep.

Immediately, I changed my plans. I pulled out my sketching supplies and found a seat on the sidewalk across the street; there was even a small piece of cardboard on the ground for me to sit on. The morning sun was bright and warm; passersby were friendly and curious. One man asked if he could take a photo of my sketch-in-progress and said, “That’s my friend’s house. Many families live there — a lot of people are going to see this photo.” Another neighbor asked me if I needed water or a soda.

There was just a sense of flow in the air on Friday morning, one I felt all the more strongly because I’d initially envisioned myself sketching alone at a quiet café table. At times, I’d pause from sketching and observe the world around me — a guy passing by on a skateboard, while carrying a surfboard under his right arm (some things you can’t make up, right?); another moment, I let my gaze follow a street sweeper in a dark green uniform and headphones, dancing and singing to himself as he worked, sweeping up fallen red petals from the very hibiscus bush I was sketching.

I had much to observe and be grateful for that morning, but I could never have predicted what happened next.

Although we’re only three months into the year, 2017 has already proved to be an interesting one for me. At the beginning of the year, I also began a new art journal, and on the front inside cover, I painted the following phrase:

This is the year of focus, showing up every day to serve my tribe.

Although I knew I wanted this year to be different, and that I wanted to narrow my focus professionally, I didn’t know exactly how that intention would manifest itself. For instance, I didn’t know that by starting a monthly Moment Sketchers sketching challenge, that challenge would very soon come to feel like a real community of sketch artists across the world. And that by finding such a meaningful community, I would feel inspired to shift the entire focus of my blog and online presence.

Sometimes, I’m learning, that’s how intentions work — we may set a goal for ourselves, without having a clear idea of what direction it’s going to lead us in.

As a part of this new focus on Moment Sketchers, I’ve spent the last few weeks making a series of small changes across the blog.

I renamed my site from The Great Affair to Moment Sketchers; I shifted the focus of my homepage to travel sketching; and I changed all of my bios across social media to simply read “sketch artist” — not writer. It seemed like a change I needed to make, to bring more focus and cohesion to my story — especially for people coming across the Moment Sketchers community for the first time. 

With each of these changes, even smaller changes had to be made. A couple of weeks ago, I spent an entire day making these tiny tweaks — everything from changing the name of my blog’s Facebook page from The Great Affair to Moment Sketchers, to changing the category of that Facebook page from “travel website” to “artist.” 

At the end of the day, it felt fitting to draw a dreamcatcher for that day’s sketch for the 40 Days of Moments project — one that I had bought in Buenos Aires last September, with bold red feathers hanging from its woven center. I titled the sketch, “Little-big changes on a Thursday,” because that’s exactly how the day had felt. On one hand, every change had taken but a couple of seconds to make happen; it was often just a matter of changing a few words here and there. 

And yet I also knew that no matter how easy each change had been to make, this simplicity belied a deeper, more significant transformation. For me, there’s always been a fine line between the questions of who I am and what I do; shifting my professional focus from travel writer to sketch artist has thus been a personal journey for me, too.

Which brings us back to last Friday, and my sketching session on a sunny sidewalk in Montevideo. After I finished drawing the house and hibiscus bush, I switched to painting — filling up my new water cup, opening my paint kit, and beginning to swirl my paintbrush against the blue and green pigments, in search of the perfect shade of turquoise.

I was about halfway through painting the scene when the street sweeper reappeared — the same one I’d seen earlier across the street, wearing headphones as he worked. This time, he appeared from behind me, walking purposefully around the corner I was leaning against, heading down the sidewalk to my left. His jaunty stride caught my attention, always in step with the fast-paced music I imagined him listening to, and I paused again to watch him for a moment before returning to my sketch.

Only this time, he didn’t keep sweeping — he stopped as soon as he’d passed me, did a swift pivot in place, and walked back to me, saying, “I have a little gift for you.”

Before I could register what was happening, his right hand was outstretched towards me, his left hand still holding onto his broom.

And there at the end of his outstretched hand was the last thing I expected to receive from him — a paintbrush.

It was short, with a bright red handle, and was enclosed in a little plastic sleeve, unopened.

“Where did you find this?” I asked him, barely able to reply to him in Spanish, so great was my surprise.

“Very far from here.”

“But—” Again, I fumbled for words. “Why do you have this with you?”

“Because it’s new.”

“Don’t you want to keep it?” I asked, wondering if perhaps he had a son or daughter who might need it more than me.

“I don’t paint,” he said, as though his logic were simple. “You can use it.”

“Well, thank you so much. What’s your name?”

“Michele.”

In the moment, I was incredibly touched by Michele’s gesture, but it wasn’t until later in the day that the true meaning of our interaction sunk in for me. That evening, I had a weekly Skype chat with one of my best friends and fellow artists, Cara. And as I related the story of meeting Michele to her, Cara seemed to grasp the significance of the moment far sooner than I had.

“Candace, this is huge,” she said. “You just changed all of your profiles to say you were a sketch artist — and today the universe literally gave you a paintbrush. Not a pen — a paintbrush. Could you ask for a better sign?”

When I think about it now, it seems uncanny — that a street sweeper should have come across a paintbrush one day, perhaps on the sidewalk or in the gutter; taken the time to put it in his pocket; and hung onto the paintbrush long enough to come across me painting on the sidewalk some other day and think to give it to me — and it’s why I wanted to share this story with you today.

I love knowing that many of you are at the start of new journeys, especially new creative endeavors — and such journeys can often strike at the very heart of who we are. Sometimes they involve letting go of who we’ve always thought ourselves to be; sometimes they involve taking a leap of faith into a new position, new project, or new chapter of our ever-evolving identity. Sometimes, they simply involve taking that first step to sketching in public for the first time, and opening ourselves to the world around us.

While I wish I could physically hand you all your own red paintbrush today — or some other small token of affirmation, that speaks to the journey you’re on — I hope this story of my encounter with Michele will be a fitting virtual alternative.

Direction. Affirmation. Faith.

These are the gifts the universe can bless us with — often at just the right time, and in the most surprising and unexpected of ways.

49 Comments

  • I just recently subscribed to your blog and this first post speaks to me so much. I’m teaching my first Travel Journal in Watercolor class this Saturday and I’m so excited. I do many arts/crafts, but I always come back to paper, pen and paint. This year is a new focus for me too and one is to share and bring together artists that sketch in the hopes of creating a little group that will bond an hopefully sketch together. Thanks so much Candace.

    • Donna, talk a little more about how you are setting up the travel journal WC class. This is a one day workshop?
      I teach in WI in the summer and have been considering something like this too. I took a 4 day class from Brenda Swenson a few summers ago..She was splendid. You could reach me at [email protected]. My blog is ginnystiles.blogspot.com

      • Hi Ginny. I so want to take a workshop from Brenda Swenson. My workshop is 4 hours. We’ll do 1.5 hours in the classroom getting familiar with our materials (watercolor
        pencils for beginners), breaking in pristine new sketch books and a demo. Then I chose two locations on the block for all to try. The last hour back in the classroom for sharing and how to finish off location. It’ll be quick, but I hope it works out. I’ll let you know how it goes. Donna

        • Thanks so much Donna…can’t wait to hear how the class goes. You can reach me at ginny.stiles@gmail or through my blog ginnystiles.blogspot.com
          So we don’t have to take up space on Candace’s blog! 🤓
          Brenda was terrific. She has a great blog too.

    • Hi Donna! How wonderful to hear that you’ll be teaching your first class this weekend–I love the topic and so wish I could be there 🙂 It’s great as well to hear that you’re also pursuing a new focus this year, especially one that includes building a community of artists. I’ve found that to be an incredibly rewarding and enriching focus for me this year, and I’ll be thinking of you this weekend as you begin growing your group of artists! <3

    • Hi Ginny! Thanks so much for your comment here, and also for the wonderful post on your blog this morning…that was such a lovely way to start my day! I’ll be in touch soon via FB as well, but I just wanted to say here that that brush script is a font called Spelling Night, which I downloaded from a site called Creative Market:

      https://creativemarket.com/Mellow_Design_Lab/623185-Spelling-Night

      While I do love to do brush script by hand, for longer book projects I needed to go with a digital font 🙂 Hope that helps! <3

      • That was SO nice of you Candace and I will be sure to download that one! I love it. I also found one called
        “Tuesdays” that is “similar” from Teela Cunningham on her blog “Every Tuesday”. She is a graphic designer and has a lot of interesting stuff on her blogs/internet/Facebook.

        • That is *such* a gorgeous font, Ginny! It’s amazing the different options there are available today 🙂 Thanks so much for sharing “Tuesday” with me, and I wish you continued inspiration this week!

  • just charming. you. your story. blessed to be in your circle. xoxo what a sweet gesture from the Street Sweeper. wow.

    • And I’m blessed to have you in this community, Sunny! I’m so glad you enjoyed this story, and I’m already looking forward to seeing the sketches you create this weekend 🙂 <3

  • Oh. My. Goodness. What an amazing moment and sign! Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story, Candace. My mind immediately began to wonder: Where did that paintbrush come from? How did the man come to have it? Why did he have it with him at work that day? At what point did he decide to give it to you? Etc., etc. And that’s a huge part of what’s so magical about these moments—because we’ll never know the full story.

    I’m so happy you’re finding focus so soon in the year, and that Moment Catchers is creating a community which feels right to serve. Looking forward to being a part of it as it grows! 🙂

    • Rebecca! I just have so many things to say here 🙂 Firstly, yes! My mind did exactly the same thing as soon as Michele handed me the paintbrush…I couldn’t stop asking him questions like, “But where did you get this?” and “Why do you have it with you?” and “Why give it to me??” I truly couldn’t grasp the moment as it was unfolding, but as you so perfectly say, perhaps that’s actually the point? I almost wonder if leaving some of our questions unanswered and some of the story untold actually leaves more room for our gratitude and wonder over these moments…

      Also, what you wrote here–“I can so see this moment in a future memoir or collection of travel sketch connections/interactions.”–is so very prescient! Over the last few days, I have literally been outlining story ideas for exactly such a collection 🙂 (And I have to confess I’m now even tempted to call it “The Red Paintbrush”!) So to hear you suggest the same idea is another wonderful moment of affirmation from the universe–thank you so much for sharing that.

      Finally, I also love how you put this phrase–“…which feels right to serve.” We can always sense whether or not we should be investing our time and energy in a project, can’t we? And I’m so grateful to feel that sense of rightness with Moment Catchers–and more importantly, to have you be a part of it 🙂 So hope you’ll be able to join the challenge again this weekend! <3

  • Wow! What an amazing story. I think we all need to have more faith in what is coming for us. I agree with Jessiev. You are the paintbrush for many of us. Thanks, as always, for sharing.

    • “I think we all need to have more faith in what is coming for us.” That is such a powerful phrase, Amanda–and one that I think might even need to go in my art journal today 🙂 Thank you so much for sharing that, for your kind words and encouragement here, and for being a part of the Moment Catchers community–can’t wait to see your sketches this weekend! <3

      • That is pretty cool! Off to see my niece and nephews again but in Brisbane this time so not sure what I will find. I am always more excited about everyone else’s artwork and looking at them carefully to see what I can try.

        • I feel the same, Amanda! As much as I love working on my own sketches, I’m always slightly anxious to get home afterwards and see what other sketches have already been shared 🙂 And how fun to hear that you’re off for some more family fun in Brisbane–I hope you all have a great time together, and I’m excited to see what inspires you there!

  • Lovely words, lovely painting! You are quite the inspiration, my dear. Here I am, at 58 (which for some reason, I keep forgetting because I got stuck at 56–which is better than when I got stuck at 48!) and about to make my own changes. Then I decide I have time this morning to follow the link to your blog and just like that, my trepidations go down the drain. Definitely sharing this post to pass the inspiration forward! Thank you for sharing and may you always be blessed with all that is good and true and beautiful!

    • Monette, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to leave such an encouraging comment–please know how much your kind words mean to me. I was so moved to read what you wrote here–“my trepidations go down the drain”–for that is exactly the reason I keep blogging and sharing my experiences here 🙂 I’m so heartened to hear that the story I shared here was exactly what you needed to read this morning, and I so hope you’ll let me know how I can ever be of help to you on your creative journey. Thank you again for your deeply thoughtful words and blessings, and I hope you will be just as blessed this week! <3

  • You may have taken “writer” off your bio, but your words moved me to tears! <3 You've certainly stirred up lots of inspiration with your commitment to your tribe and this new direction, and I thank you for it. The inspiration is working its way through me behind the scenes, encouraging me to embrace my creativity as a central part of my identity. I also love how poignantly you captured that "letting go" but also "embracing flow" – I'm glad the universe flowed you into my life and appreciate all you do to nurture your art and all of us at the same time. 😀 Love that paintbrush story – and also the kindness (and curiosity) of strangers, one of my very favorite things about this amazing world we live in.

    • Kim, I’m so moved by your kind words here–thank you for taking the time to leave such a beautiful comment! I was also so glad to hear that the tension between letting go and embracing flow resonated with you…when that line about letting go came to me, I actually teared up a bit, as I realized there truly can be an element of surrender involved with following our own paths and honing our dreams. It has been such a joy connecting with you these past few months, and I can’t wait to keep following along your own creative journey! <3

  • Hi Candace
    What a fabulous story. The universe is such a magical place if we let it. I think if we knew the whole story of the red paintbrush we would not be as inclined to relate the uniqueness of this very special moment. The mystique will keep this alive and going and will be a constant reminder to us readers and yourself of course, that when we see a red paintbrush this moment will rush back. Thank you for sharing this inspiring story, and as usual you are such an inspiration Candace. Great things happen to great people!

    • “The universe is such a magical place if we let it.” I couldn’t agree more with this beautiful thought, Treava! And it’s one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned through traveling over the past few years–that when we go out into the world (whether while traveling, or just while going about our everyday lives) with an open heart and a spirit of anticipation, then the universe will often meet us there, surprising us with these moments of connection and serendipity. I’m so happy to hear that the story of the red paintbrush resonated with you, as it was certainly a blessing for me to experience! 🙂 <3

  • Wonderful story Candace, serendipity is still strong and following you through life. It’s amazing how much you have grown since I first followed your blog. At 84 I’m at the last part of my life and it has been such a pleasure being with you virtually while on your travels. I love your prose as much as your sketches, you have such talent. Thank you so much for sharing your life with us. Happy trails.

    • Roberta, it really is amazing to think how many years we’ve been connected now online! I can still vividly remember getting ready to walk the Evliya Celebi Way in Turkey in 2013, when you left a beautiful comment that actually felt like a benediction, wishing me a wonderful time following the “sacred road.” I remember how blessed I felt by your words, and continue to be with each of your new comments and insights. It means so much to me that you take the time to read my stories and respond with your own thoughts, and I just wanted to take a moment to make sure you know that today 🙂 Sending you big hugs and blessings from Montevideo! <3

  • Oh I have to echo both jessiev and Rebecca here Candace and I am sure a whole host of your followers, you are the Red Paintbrush. Since I started following you (I am sorry I sound like a groupie but I am sure we all do!) and changing my way of thinking last year and believing that serendipitous stuff happens and for a reason, I feel my life has started to go the way I always wanted but never knew it until recently. This is such a beautiful and emotional story, just shows when you relax and let the Universe do it’s job for you, MAGIC TRULY HAPPENS, ART RULES!!!! and so does the beautiful Moment Catchers Community.

    • Victoria, I continue to be so blessed by our connection, and by your tremendous support–thank you so much! I also think you might’ve just nailed the perfect tagline for Moment Catchers–“Magic truly happens, art rules”….I love it 🙂 In all seriousness, it means the world to me to hear that coming to believe in sacred serendipity has started to shift the direction of your life…what a beautiful and powerful new course you are following right now, isn’t it? It’s such a joy to be connected with you, and I can’t wait to keep seeing where your creative journey leads you this year! <3

  • What a wonderful story Candace, you are quite some “moment magnet” I have to say… 🙂 The title alone should be framed and reading through the entire story it certainly deserves to sparkle on paper and not only in your “digital journal”. Among all the changes you mentioned, I think the shift away from “writer” is probably the biggest to me. Because that’s what you are: a magnificent storyteller…
    Isn’t is also magical, how the red dreamcatcher somehow turned into a red paintbrush? Maybe it holds some magic and one day you take out that little paintbrush, let it dance over the paper and see if the traces left on it indicate your destiny. Such a treasure and maybe your personal “compass”…
    Thanks again for this really touching story Candace! This story tells so much about the world, human being, encounters and not least about yourself. I know few people with the ability to soak up the magic of moments as much as you do and the gift to turn them into something so beautiful…

    • Oliver, I have the biggest smile on my face right now–your insights and perceptions continue to be such a gift to me 🙂 I can’t believe the connection between the red dreamcatcher and the red paintbrush never occurred to me, but of course you’re right! There’s definitely a magical thread running between the two, and I’m so grateful to you for pointing it out 🙂 And it’s funny, too, in that since sharing this post and hearing so much encouragement from others and yourself, I’ve realized–perhaps the titles we give ourselves don’t matter as much as we think they do…it’s so easy to get hung up on them, isn’t it? But in the end, what matters most is simply that we keep sharing the stories and moments that spoke to us, because their meaning will hopefully continue rippling in the world. Oliver, as always, it is such an honor to read your insights and thoughts, and please know I’m wishing you a new week ahead full of wonder and inspiration!

      • Thank you very much Candace, I really appreciate your wonderful message! Seems like your stories and observations ignite quite some inspiration, not only in me. 🙂 I agree, the titles we give ourselves don’t really matter. As you said, sharing the stories and moments that spoke to us is what matters. And you do have some amazing skills “listening” to those situations and shaping them into words and sketches…
        Wishing you a most wonderful and inspirational week too and may there be plenty of “moments”!

  • Thank you for sharing this beautiful story and your thoughts. Your arts and your writings have been a daily source of nourishment for my soul. Thank you for being YOU….

    • Thank *you*, Kar, for sharing such encouragement here–please know how much it means to me, and how thrilled I am for you for the wonderful journey you’re on right now…in the world, and on the wonderful pages of your sketchbook! <3

  • Wow.
    Candace, what can I say? We’ve barely talked to each other but the words you write and sketches you share help more than you think.
    Especially at this point in my life, where I am struggling immensely, spiraling downwards and trying to hang on to everything I can. I’ve lost so much this past year, my creativity, my motivation as well as the better half of myself, and yet the words you share and the positivity you radiate are like little rays of light, brightening things up.
    Thank you. I had to be honest but really, thank you for the beautiful stories, words and paintings!

    • Dear Daniel–I can’t thank you enough for sharing such an honest comment, and I only have to apologize for not replying to you here sooner. But I was truly so moved by your honesty, and to hear about where you are at in life right now. My heart sunk to hear about all you have lost recently–especially to hear about your loss of love and creativity–and I just want you to know that my thoughts will be with you. In these seasons of intense despair and darkness, it can be so hard to believe that light will come again, can’t it? And so I was very humbled to hear that the story of my encounter with Michele might’ve brought a bit of light your way last week. Thank you so much for sharing that, and again, I will be thinking of you and sending thoughts for light and inspiration your way from Uruguay. All the very best to you, Candace

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  • An amazing story, love what you’re doing and can’t wait to join moment catchers, will do as soon as I get settled in my new house!

    • Thank you so much, Nikki! Please know I would be so delighted to have you join the Moment Catchers community–and in the mean time, I hope you have a smooth transition into your new home 🙂

    • Hello Robert! I’m so sorry to have somehow not seen your comment here until today, but I just wanted to thank you for your kind words — I’m really glad you enjoyed the new look here 🙂 Hope you’ll have a chance to sketch with us this upcoming weekend again!

  • What a lovely story…and a wonderful gift from the street sweeper and the universe! It was meant to be.

    • I truly do believe that encounter with the street sweeper was meant to be! Not only because of how unlikely it was, but because of the perfect timing in my own life and journey as well 🙂 It’s wonderful to hear you enjoyed this one, Joan!

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