- nessart16
- Mar 27, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: May 7, 2025
If there was ever one drawing that holds immense personal significance, it is the one I created for the month of April in the 2025 calendar.
Welcome to The Village in April, the fourth blog post in my 2025 Calendar Blog Series. Over the rest of this year, I’ll be taking you behind the scenes of each month’s illustration, sharing stories, memories, and reflections that continue to shape my creative journey.
For 2025, I created a collection that bridges my childhood art with my current skill level - I’ve revisited some of my old oil pastel drawings and watercolour paintings, recreated them digitally, and added reflective thoughts, messages, and affirmations that connect what they meant to me then with what they mean to me now. Each month is crafted with care, representing both the season and a personal story.
And a quick plug: my 2025 calendar collection is available at a lovely discounted price till I run out! From tabletop and wall calendars to mini calendars, calendar cards, wallpapers, and bookmarks, there’s something for everyone in my shop.
It all began in my art class, little Ness armed with oil pastels and a heart full of wonder. My very first edition was a simple layout filled with warm, inviting colours. That original illustration featured rolling hills, cartoony houses, and lush bushes, evoking the comforting charm of a warm countryside.
During a school greeting card-making competition, I decided to reimagine that childhood drawing as a "welcome home" card, which I dedicated to one of my teachers at the time. I infused the piece with even more personality by adding playful words and extra rolling hills. The drawing radiated a soft, warm feeling - as if it were so delightful, I could almost taste it. I know, I have really weird cravings. I loved it so much that I continued to recreate this design for future greeting cards, each iteration capturing a deeper part of my evolving passion and style.
But the journey didn’t stop there. this cherished illustration made an exciting return during last year's "Peachtober." For the day 22 prompt, "Village," I redrew my childhood creation one more in my current style. The process filled me with immense joy and sparked inspiration for a much larger project - the creation of my calendar, "Growing in 2025," which aims to recreate elements of my childhood through art.
This was not only the first drawing I made for the calendar, but also the first one I finalized with text on the reverse side. Over time, this illustration has become my signature piece, gracing my thank-you cards, wallpapers, bookmarks, and even my website. Reflecting on its journey from a simple art class exercise to an integral part of my identity feels like a full-circle moment.
While working on the calendar illustration, I realized that the original artwork needed a new format to fit the project. I redrew it once more, separating the elements into layers so I could reposition and refine each detail while preserving its original charm. It was like breathing new life into an old friend - reimagining it now to fit a fresh, exciting vision without losing its essence. I also created another version for the reverse side of the month.
The meaning behind this drawing evolved naturally as I contemplated its title, "The Village." The phrase "it takes a village" instantly reminded me of the support we receive from those around us. Though the original saying goes, "it takes a village to raise a child," the sentiment remains the same. The illustration represents how our lives are woven together by many caring hands and open hearts. It’s a gentle reminder that we’re never truly alone - that it’s okay to lean on others, to allow their kindness to guide us, and to share the weight of our burdens. When the road feels long and the load heavy, reaching out to our village, with its open arms and steady hands, is a sign of strength, not weakness.
This illustration and its accompanying message mark the beginning of my calendar project and encapsulate a milestone in my artistic journey. I am deeply grateful to my younger self for creating this piece in art class - an act that has blossomed into my most cherished work. I know I will revisit this drawing time and again, as it continually inspires and comforts me. It stands as a testament to the beauty of growth, the power of community, and the timeless joy of art.
Stay tuned for April's story, and if you haven’t yet, check out my
2025 calendar collection to bring these illustrations into your home!
- nessart16
- Mar 22, 2025
- 3 min read
For as long as I can remember, I have felt an weird and inherent need for symmetry & balance. Whether it’s the subtle requirement for a tap on my left shoulder when someone taps my right, or the instinct to dip both hands into a pool of water simultaneously, I have come to realize that my body craves this balance. If I stretch my right ankle, my left follows suit, as if each half of me insists on mirroring the other.
This drive for equilibrium is not just physical for me - it mirrors my perception of the world, where symmetry often symbolizes order and calm amidst the chaos - something I find myself in the middle of quite often. Yet, I have come to slowly understand that this yearning for balance is as much a part of me as my quirks. It makes me wonder how I view the world and whether this preference for symmetry shapes my interpretation of beauty in the external world.
But perhaps this quest for symmetry, a beautifully unpolished and unexpected act in itself - is a reminder that true “perfection” often hides in the imperfections, quirks and randomness of life.
Welcome to The Oddities in March, the third blog post in my 2025 Calendar Blog Series. Over the rest of this year, I’ll be taking you behind the scenes of each month’s illustration, sharing stories, memories, and reflections that continue to shape my creative journey.
For 2025, I created a collection that bridges my childhood art with my current skill level - I’ve revisited some of my old oil pastel drawings and watercolour paintings, recreated them digitally, and added reflective thoughts, messages, and affirmations that connect what they meant to me then with what they mean to me now. Each month is crafted with care, representing both the season and a personal story.
And a quick plug: my 2025 calendar collection is available at a lovely discounted price till I run out! From tabletop and wall calendars to mini calendars, calendar cards, wallpapers, and bookmarks, there’s something for everyone in my shop.
Reflecting on my childhood, I remember there being a time when I was utterly fascinated by root vegetables - carrots, radishes, turnips - each one with its own unique shape and character. In little ness' eyes, everything that grew underground was part of one big, mysterious family because they all lived in the same hidden world beneath the earth. I was captivated by their incredible variety of forms and colours. Even the dirt, peeling skins, and tiny scars didn't take away from their charm; instead, they made these vegetables feel even more magical and full of wonder. Honest confession, I enjoyed my time looking at and admiring them than actually eating them.
This early curiosity about the imperfect and the unexpected has reemerged in my art and even my daily life today. My recent discovery of the need for internal symmetry and the quest to find balance in an often chaotic external world have reminded me of this wonder I felt as a child.
The imperfect beauty of a dirt-covered radish, with its tiny tear on the skin, now serves as a metaphor for the beauty in all our idiosyncrasies.
The March illustration is one that employs delicate washes of light watercolour and subtle outlines. I recall creating this piece during a drawing class, where the assignment was to choose from a reference book filled with images of vegetables, fruits, animals, and toys. While the reference image of a radish lacked any visible “flaws”, I was compelled to include a tiny tear on its skin. To me, that imperfection was a celebration of the radish’s true character - much like the way life’s little quirks add depth to our experiences.
Ultimately, “The Oddities in March” is a reminder to embrace the odd, the imperfect, and the unexpected in our lives. In a world that often values symmetry and perfection, I invite you to celebrate the quirks that set you apart. Whether it’s the unique characteristics of your body or the distinct traits of those around you, there is magic in the unpolished and the imperfect.
Be proud of your “oddities.” Let them remind you that beauty often lies not in flawless symmetry, but in the very things that make us unique, raw, and undeniably human.
Stay tuned for April's story, and if you haven’t yet, check out my
2025 calendar collection to bring these illustrations into your home!
- nessart16
- Feb 14, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Mar 22, 2025
Welcome to The Pond in February, the second blog post in my 2025 Calendar Blog Series.
Over the coming year, I’ll be taking you behind the scenes of each month’s illustration, sharing stories, memories, and reflections that continue to shape my creative journey.
For 2025, I created a collection that bridges my childhood art with my current skill level - I’ve revisited some of my old oil pastel drawings and watercolour paintings, recreated them digitally, and added reflective thoughts, messages, and affirmations that connect what they meant to me then with what they mean to me now. Each month is crafted with care, representing both the season and a personal story.
And a quick plug: my 2025 calendar collection is now available at a lovely discounted price till I run out! From tabletop and wall calendars to mini calendars, calendar cards, wallpapers, and bookmarks, there’s something for everyone in my shop.
A Journey of Change and Growth
For most of my life, I believed that only the big, bold moments truly mattered. I often worried about not moving forward enough - not physically, but in life overall - and assumed every moment needed to be grand. This belief was challenged during one of the most pivotal moments of my childhood when my father took a job in a different city and we moved to Bangalore.
That move was monumental. I loved our new life; coming home to something familiar in an unfamiliar city was comforting. Yet I soon noticed that our pace had shifted. Gone were the slow days of weekend trips, family gatherings, and the gentle rhythms of a close-knit extended family. Life felt faster and more urgent, leaving me often feeling like I was chasing time.
At the same time, I struggled to adjust. I wasn’t fluent in English, and among peers who seemed confident and self-assured, I felt small and uncertain. I questioned whether my life should be defined only by grand gestures, and if the quieter days were somehow wasted. Even today, I continue to wrestle with these doubts. I’m still learning to appreciate the value of small moments - like the gentle warmth of sunlight on my face or a day of quiet reflection. These subtle experiences, much like water lilies anchored by unseen roots, nurture my growth even when the currents of life feel overwhelming. I’m still teaching myself to trust in uncertainty.
Reflections and Lessons
This ongoing journey of transformation finds its way into my art every day. So much of my work is inspired by these lessons I’m still learning. With every creation, I hope to convey the message of finding joy in life’s smaller, often overlooked moments. My art is a letter to myself - a reminder to relish gentle stillness and appreciate that not every action requires an audience.
The original for this month’s illustration is a watercolour painting featuring delicate lilies and lily pads - a piece I created when I was first learning watercolours. At that time, I was experimenting with watercolour washes, and many of my early paintings were simply a series of washes capturing nature’s fleeting beauty. In the digital recreation of this drawing, I aimed to preserve the original's evocative feeling, characterized by significant negative space. To maintain this essence in the digital version, I've scattered the lilies, placing the calendar design elements in the spaces between them.
When I reflect on my childhood, I see a parallel in the water lilies. Despite the unsettling ripples, unpredictable currents and that little girl’s profound feeling of disorientation - the unseen roots held me steady, reminding me that every uncertain moment contributes to the art of being.
Today, I continue to embrace both the grand milestones and the quiet, reflective moments, even as I struggle with doubt and uncertainty. Every experience, big or small, shapes who I am becoming. Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope this story inspires you to celebrate both dramatic milestones and the subtle moments in your own life just as much.
Stay tuned for the next installment in this little series - look forward to March’s post, where I’ll share another chapter of personal growth and creative exploration.
