My Creative Life – A Deeply Personal Story

For those curious about my life beyond the artwork, here’s some of my backstory – possibly more than you ever wanted to know.

A gentle warning: not all of it is happy. I’m sharing it…. not for sympathy, but because many creatives will recognize parts of themselves here.

Creativity runs deep in my family. I’m at least a third-generation artist, and probably more than that.

My mother was a freelance artist. She worked for Walt Disney, as well as companies like Rust Craft.

Her father, Napoleon Bernier, founded California Products Corporation, including California Paints, California Stucco, and one of the earliest acrylic paint lines for artists, New Masters’ Acrylic Paints.

And his mother was known for her eccentric fabric art and innovative clothing.

In other words: in our family, making things was normal.

I spent my earliest years in Belmont, Massachusetts, surrounded by professors, diplomats, scientists, and artists of every kind. I was as comfortable wandering around the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln – and playing at Walter Gropius’ home while he was still alive – as I was roaming the halls of MIT.

As a teenager, I became a professional illustrator and was represented by an artists’ agent. (I doubt my clients realized their illustrations were created by a fourteen-year-old.)

I also fell deeply in love with history and live theatre, especially Shakespeare.

My formal studies included Colby-Sawyer College, Harvard University, and I earned an Archaeological Illustrator Certificate from Boston University. It was immersive… and fun.

Then, in the 1970s, I moved west, married a California farmer, and divided my time between Los Angeles and northern California.

In Los Angeles, I became involved in the earliest Star Trek conventions and formed friendships with a wide range of colorful creatives.

I studied – and later taught – at Mission: Renaissance. And I published a free newsletter called Creating! – sort of a zine – and sent it out to friends and fellow artists.

It was dazzling fun.

After our two daughters were born, we moved to Maine, where my creative life expanded in new, even wider directions.

• I launched a handmade quilt business, Quiltz, selling through coastal Maine shops and on Newbury Street in Boston.
• I created sachets to repel moths, sold through a store at Faneuil Hall Marketplace.
• I self-published quilting books, bought and sold antique quilts, started a one-of-a-kind clothing business (Past Perfect Clothes), and produced free mail-order catalogs.
• I freelanced as an illustrator, scouted antiques, and never seemed to stop making things.

But then…

Well, this is the part many creatives will recognize.

In the early 1980s, there was a divorce.

It broke my heart, but I did my best to get past the sadness and – a few years later – I remarried.

I’d met my new husband at a New Year’s Eve party at our church.

We seemed to get along. After all, I wasn’t looking for another romance, just a caring and supportive companion to share life with.

He seemed to be in that same place in his life, as well.

Sadly, that new marriage – slowly and quietly – eroded my confidence as an artist.

My work was often met with: “That’s good, but what you really ought to do is…”

I want to believe that he meant it kindly. But over time, it wore me down.

When that marriage ended, I was exhausted on many levels.

I didn’t contest the divorce. I didn’t even hire an attorney. I simply signed the papers put in front of me.

It was one of the lowest points in my life.

On the recommendation of a counselor, I accepted a friend’s offer of a spare bedroom and moved across the country.

I needed distance: Time. Space.

Then, gradually – very gradually – my creativity returned.

Not as it had been before, but now… more honest.

Less eager to please.

More mine.

That was more than twenty years ago.

It’s also when I found my happily-ever-after with a man who encourages my work in all its forms – including the strange, playful, experimental pieces.

Even now, we laugh daily, hug often, and never run out of things to talk about.

That support changed everything.

Today, my creativity lives under the name Aisling D’Art – a space for exploration, experimentation, art journaling, mixed media, zines, and… Well… projects that don’t fit neatly into categories.

This work is about giving myself permission: to try, to fail, to play, to make things simply because they want to exist.

If you’re still looking for your way back to art – or to yourself – I hope something here, in my story and at this website – reminds you that it’s never too late.

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