Staying True to You in Art and Marketing

 
 
 

Growing up near the US border in Mexico, my bicultural roots have always been an integral part of who I am. Moving to the US full-time and becoming a US Citizen wasn’t a massive culture shock, but I had to be intentional about staying true to myself, holding onto the vibrant colors, rich traditions, and soulful essence of my heritage.

In 2012, my son was born, and I made a decision that would shape his connection to those roots: Speaking exclusively in Spanish with him.

This wasn’t just about conjugating verbs or rolling Rs—it was about preserving a piece of his identity. I wanted him to feel tethered to our family and heritage.

But here’s the catch: I knew English would find him anyway. School would teach him. The Wiggles would teach him. And by then, learning Spanish ended up feeling like swimming upstream in a river of “Why can’t we just watch cartoons in English?”

So I doubled down. I committed. It took intention, effort, and consistency. And yet, over time, he blossomed into a bilingual, bicultural human who has fully integrated both his American and Mexican heritages with pride.

And that brings me to art.

Because isn’t this the same choice we face as artists every single day? To stay true to our creative roots, crafting work that reflects our soul and our vision, or to lean into the path that’s… well, easier or more commercially viable?

Both paths come with gains and losses. The trick isn’t picking one over the other—it’s making the choice with your eyes wide open. Are you creating from the deep wellspring of your story and your truth? Or are you squeezing yourself into a box labeled “marketable” and hoping for the best?

Creating from your core—your messy, magical, unfiltered self—is hard. It requires vulnerability and faith that your voice is enough. It’s the kind of art that breaks molds, stops people in their tracks, and whispers, “This is real.”

But it’s not the only way. Creating for financial gain—crafting what sells—can feel like a practical choice, especially when rent is due, and the universe is stingy with winning lottery numbers. The catch? If you lose sight of your why, your art might start to feel hollow, like a pretty vase with no flowers inside.

Neither path is inherently right or wrong. What matters is that you choose with intention—fully aware of what you’re holding onto and what you’re letting go.

When I chose to raise my kiddo with a deep connection to a part of his heritage 1,683.6 miles away from where I was raised, it wasn’t easy. (Have you ever tried explaining to a 3-year-old why lime goes with everything except quesadillas?) But it was worth it because it kept us rooted.

As artists, we have to decide how to stay rooted in our work. And here’s what I know in my bones: the key to selling your art without selling your soul is experimentation, courage, patience, and an unshakable dose of self-trust.

Experimentation means trying systems and strategies until you find what works. Courage means breaking the rules when the rules don’t work for you. Patience means holding steady when the world demands instant results. And self-trust? That’s the glue that holds it all together, reminding you that no matter the outcome, you’re inching closer to something extraordinary.

This path isn’t easy—it’s a messy, unpaved road. But it’s also the road that leads to the most resonant art—the kind that doesn’t just fit into a mold but breaks it.

In this ongoing journey, there is no definitive map—only a compass that points to our true north. Your task is to follow it, bravely and authentically, wherever it may lead.


2025: The Year You Finally Plan Instead of Panic

If you’re ready to map your own artistic journey in 2025, I invite you to join me in the Paint Your Year with Purpose™ workshop on January 15th from 12–2 PM ET. Together, we’ll design a year of sustainable launches aligned with your art, your life, and your creative rhythms.

As you navigate your own artistic path, I encourage you to stay rooted in your story, your heritage, and your unique voice. The world doesn’t need another copy. It needs you.


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The Most Inexperienced Person in the Room: Me