Process Art Discovery

Welcome to Process Art Discovery. We are not just about learning how to make art — we are about sharing the human story, emotion, and comfort that art brings, across multiple mediums and generations.

Process Art Discovery is a creative space where experienced artists open their studios, share their stories, and invite you into the joy of making art. Here, we celebrate the beauty of lived experience, creative reinvention, and the transformative power of the artistic process.

Whether you’re an art lover, a curious learner, or someone rediscovering your creative spark, you’ll find inspiration through hands-on projects, soulful interviews, and thoughtful conversations that go beyond technique.

At Process Art Discovery, we value curiosity over perfection, expression over outcome, and the belief that creativity is timeless and belongs to all of us.

Join us as we explore how art connects, heals, and empowers — one brushstroke at a time.




Process Art Discovery

Attention Canadian Artists Shipping to the USA: Big Change Coming August 29

If you’re a Canadian artist who sells original art, prints, or handmade items to U.S. buyers (especially through Etsy or similar platforms), there’s an important change coming this month.

Starting August 29, 2025, the U.S. is planning to remove or restrict the De Minimis exemption — a policy that has, until now, allowed packages under $800 USD to enter duty-free and with minimal customs paperwork.

This change could mean:

Your U.S. buyers may face unexpected import fees or delays
Packages may be held at customs or returned if forms aren’t completed properly
Selling into the U.S. may become more complicated for independent artists

We’re not experts in trade law, and the situation is evolving — but we wanted to make sure you’ve heard about it.

❗️Some sellers are already halting U.S. orders starting August 19 to avoid customs issues.

🔎 If you sell across the border, we recommend looking up:

“USA De Minimis exemption 2025 Etsy”

Updates from Etsy, ShipStation, Canada Post, or U.S. Customs

This is frustrating news for many small sellers who rely on U.S. customers, but knowing early gives you a chance to plan ahead.

We’ll keep watching and post an update if anything changes.

1 month ago (edited) | [YT] | 3

Process Art Discovery

Who Am I If No One Sees Me?
By Lorenz Plourde

There’s a quiet kind of sadness I’ve heard a few times while filming older artists. It usually doesn’t show up right away. It sneaks in between brushstrokes, or in a deep breath before a story begins. Sometimes it’s in the way someone looks at a wall full of paintings and says softly, “I don’t know if anyone really sees it.”


And they don’t just mean the painting. They mean themself.


I’ve seen this more than once—especially with women in their 60s, 70s, and 80s. Many of them have spent their lives being busy, being helpful, being there for others—but not always being seen. They’ve raised families, worked jobs, handled loss, supported friends, and made things beautiful along the way. Some are just now finding time to paint again. Others never stopped.


And yet… that feeling still shows up.


Because sometimes, the real question isn’t said out loud. It shows up as a stack of unsold paintings. A table at a craft fair where people smile but keep walking. A website full of art that no one clicks on.


And you start to wonder:

If no one buys it… does it matter?
Does it count?
Do I?


Then another thought creeps in:

Should I change something?
Should I paint more like that artist who’s popular online?
Should I try to fit in better?


It’s hard. There’s a real pull between making art that’s true to who you are… and wanting it to connect with others, maybe even sell.


Some artists figure that out. They build a business, teach, or grow a following—and that’s amazing. They’ve found a sweet spot between being themselves and being seen.

But others are still trying. Still wondering what they’re missing. Still quietly asking: What if being myself isn’t enough?


Here’s what I’ve come to believe: just making art—even if no one sees it—is an act of being seen. The moment you say, “This is how I see the world,” you’re not hiding anymore. You’re letting something true come out. You’re showing up.


And that matters.


This isn’t just about showing people your artwork. It’s about showing them you. Your thoughts. Your heart. Your unique way of seeing and feeling things.


Most of the artists I know have given so much of themselves over the years—to kids, partners, work, expectations. And yet, they still find a way to make something. Or they return to it after a long break. Art becomes a way of coming home. A way to say, I’m still here. I still matter.


Even if only a few people see it.


Even if your family doesn’t quite get it.


Even if it doesn’t sell.


Even if you’re still figuring out if you want to share it.


Even then—especially then—what you create says: I’m not invisible.


And here’s the honest truth: people are noticing.


Maybe not with likes or comments.

Maybe not with big praise.

But someone out there is being moved by what you do.


Someone is learning from your courage.

Someone is feeling less alone because of you—even if they never tell you.


Maybe it’s a stranger.

Maybe it’s your granddaughter.

Maybe it’s the younger version of you.

Maybe it’s you now.


Because being seen isn’t just about other people.


It’s about recognizing yourself.


It’s about looking in the mirror and saying, There you are. I see you.


So if you’ve ever asked, “Who am I if no one sees me?”


Here’s what I’d say:

You are an artist.
You are a story worth hearing.
You are someone who’s still here, still trying, still creating.


And maybe the one who needs to see you most… is you.


— Lorenz Plourde
ProcessArt.ca

2 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 0

Process Art Discovery

How to Watch a Playlist on YouTube (Without Getting Lost)


YouTube can be a wonderful place — full of art, music, stories, and ideas. But sometimes it’s easy to get lost, especially when you just want to watch a few videos in order without clicking around.

That’s where playlists come in.

So what’s a playlist?

A playlist is simply a group of videos collected in a row — like a TV series or mini art show — that plays one after another without you needing to search or click.

We use playlists on Process Art Discovery to make it easier to find what you love. Whether it’s watercolor demos, sculpture stories, or our Sunday classic movies, playlists let you settle in and just watch.

💡 How to watch a playlist:

Click on the playlist title or link.

You might see it in a description, or on our channel homepage. It usually looks like this:

▶️ Sunday Cinema: Public Domain Treasures

You’ll see a list of videos on the right (or below, on phones).

The first video will start playing at the top.

Let the videos play — they’ll keep going automatically!

You don’t have to click “next” or go searching.

Want to pause and come back later?

No problem. YouTube usually remembers where you left off — especially if you're logged in.

✨ A few favorites to try:

🎨 Watercolor – peaceful painting in motion

🗿 Sculpture – stories in bronze, stone, and form

🍿 Sunday Cinema – timeless movies from the golden era

💬 Art Talks – interviews and reflections with working artists

So go ahead — grab a tea, get comfortable, and let the playlist do the work for you.

Because sometimes the best art experiences are the ones that unfold quietly, one story at a time.

2 months ago | [YT] | 0

Process Art Discovery

How to Share a YouTube Video with a Friend (Even If You're Not “Techy”)

Have you ever watched something on YouTube and thought, “Oh, so-and-so would love this…” — but weren’t sure how to share it?

You’re not alone. Many people love watching videos but feel unsure when it comes to sending them. The good news is: it’s easier than you think.

Here’s a simple way to share a video:

While watching the video, look under the video player for a button that says “Share.”

Click it. You’ll see options — like Email, Facebook, or a copyable link.

If you want to send it in an email or text, click “Copy Link.”

Then go to your email or message and paste the link in (right-click or press and hold, then hit “Paste”).

That’s it! You’ve just passed along a moment of joy.

💡 Tip: You can also share full playlists — like our Sunday Cinema or Watercolor series — the same way. Just look for the “Share” button on the playlist page.

Because art, beauty, and comfort are even better when shared.

2 months ago | [YT] | 0

Process Art Discovery

🎨 The Art of Slowing Down: Why It’s Hard — And Why It’s Worth It

You’ve spent your life moving. For others. For deadlines. For everything that needed doing.


And now, when you finally have time to paint, it can feel... strange.


As if your hands don’t quite know how to be still.


As if your mind keeps whispering, “Shouldn’t you be doing something more useful?”



Even when the world quiets around you, that old rhythm of urgency lingers.


But maybe the real question isn’t what you’re producing.


Maybe it’s what you’re rediscovering.




🌿 Why Slowing Down Feels So Unnatural




It’s not just habit—it’s history.


So many women in their 50s, 60s, 70s and beyond grew up being needed—by children, partners, workplaces, aging parents.


You learned to keep things running. To stay useful. To rarely rest.



Even now, that old voice still murmurs: “You should be doing more.”


And for artists, there’s another layer—comparison.


You scroll through Instagram and see someone painting every day, launching collections, selling out shows.


Meanwhile, your brush hovers mid-air, unsure where to even begin.



But here’s the quiet truth:


Speed doesn’t make your art more valuable.


Presence does.



But slowing down doesn’t just challenge your schedule—it challenges your story.


Many of us were taught that to be valuable, we had to be productive.


But beneath that? We often feel like we’ve missed something. Like we started too late. Like everyone else is ahead—more talented, more visible, more accomplished.



We think it’s greed that drives us.


But as Charlie Munger once said, it’s often envy.


That feeling that someone else has what we could’ve had—if only we’d started sooner.



But here’s the gift that comes with age:


You begin to care less about where others are going—because you finally start listening to where you are meant to be.



Slowing down quiets the envy.


It reminds you:


You’re not behind.


You’re here.


And this—this moment—is where the beauty begins.




✨ What Slowing Down Gives You




When we slow down, something tender happens.


Yes, old fears rise—of being behind, of wasting time, of not having enough time left.



But something else rises, too: Trust.



Trust that your rhythm isn’t just okay—it’s sacred.



When you create slowly, you give your art space to breathe.

You notice how the paint settles.

You feel the moment unfold.

You hear your own heart… and listen.


Some of the most emotionally powerful paintings on our channel began this way—

With a slow walk in the woods.

A quiet sketch at a kitchen table.

A single brushstroke placed with intention.


Slowing down doesn’t mean doing less.

It means doing what matters—more deeply.


And beyond the art?


It helps you come home to yourself.


Because even now—especially now—you matter.

Your voice. Your vision. Your peace.



🧘‍♀️ How to Begin



Slowing down doesn’t mean stopping.

It just means changing the pace.


Here are a few gentle ways to begin:



• Give yourself permission to paint for no reason. No deadlines. No audience. Just you.


• Start small. A 10-minute session. One brush. Two colors. No plan.

• Choose soft tools. A hake brush. Watercolors. Music that doesn’t rush.

• Let yourself wander. Some of the best ideas arrive while weeding the garden or folding laundry.

• Leave things unfinished. Not everything has to be resolved. Sometimes the story lives in the middle.



So if you're moving slower these days—it’s not a flaw.


It’s a season.


And like every season, it carries its own wisdom.


Let it show you what can’t be rushed:


Your voice.
Your courage.
Your joy.



💜 A Final Thought



Slowing down isn’t giving up.


It’s giving in — To the truth that you were never behind in the first place.


The artist in you isn’t fading.


She’s just now catching up to her own heartbeat.



What has slowing down given you?

3 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 3

Process Art Discovery

This piece was inspired by a heartfelt comment from a reader on our last article. Thank you, Andrea.


“What If the Work Outlasts Us?”
By Lorenz Plourde


A comment came in the other day that stopped me in my tracks.


It was from a woman named Andrea, an artist who had set her creativity aside when she became a young mother and only picked it back up decades later, in her fifties. She shared how, at first, she rushed—trying to make up for lost time. But now, in her seventies, she paints more slowly. More deliberately. With care. With presence. And this line she wrote won’t leave me:


“It dawned on me a few years ago that some of my pieces will (hopefully) outlast me, and that's when I made the mental switch. I hope they will be loved even when I am long gone.”


That right there—that’s the shift. The one so many artists go through, quietly and without fanfare. The moment when the urgency to produce gives way to something else entirely: a quiet offering to the future.


And I think that’s worth pausing on.


When we’re younger, we often create with momentum. We chase skill, recognition, a sense of arrival. But many of the artists I work with—women in their sixties, seventies, even eighties—have moved into a different rhythm. They’re not just making work. They’re making peace. They're not asking, Will it sell? They're asking, Will it hold meaning for someone after I'm gone?


And that shift changes the work.


It becomes deeper. Slower. More generous. There’s less urgency and more care. Less perfectionism, more honesty. What remains isn't always the “best” piece technically—but often it’s the one that carries the most truth.


And maybe that’s the real legacy.


Not the piece that ends up in a gallery. But the one that gets pulled out of a drawer by a grandchild and held in quiet awe. The one that travels from house to house because someone couldn’t bear to leave it behind. The one that reminds someone, somewhere, of the hands that made it.


I used to think legacy was something grand. Now, I think it might be a small piece of art… created in silence… carrying more of us than we realize.


So, to Andrea—and to every artist who’s come back to themselves later in life—thank you. Not just for the work, but for the way you’ve allowed time to soften you. For creating not in a rush to prove, but in the joy of being here. That, too, is a form of immortality.


And yes… your work will outlast you.


Because the care you gave it can’t help but leave a mark.


Lorenz Plourde
ProcessArt.ca

3 months ago | [YT] | 0

Process Art Discovery

“Do We Become the Art We Leave Behind?”


As a videographer working closely with older artists, I often find myself immersed in more than just the brushstrokes or the sculpting process—I find myself surrounded by questions of legacy, mortality, and meaning. These aren’t just technical recordings; they’re conversations with people who have lived long, creative lives and are beginning, in quiet ways, to ask: What remains?


I ask it too. I’m 61, I’ve had a heart attack, three stents, and a renewed awareness that this ride doesn't last forever. So I wonder—what happens to us, the artists, the storytellers, the makers, the feelers, when the work is done? If we’re more than our bodies, are we also more than the sum of our experiences? And if energy never dies, could it be that what we create is just one expression of something bigger waiting to unfold?


In every shoot, I see traces of this question—not always spoken out loud, but woven into the pauses, the glances at unfinished canvases, the stories that circle back to what really matters. These artists, many in their 70s and 80s, aren’t chasing fame. They’re creating because it’s how they exist. And as their hands move across canvas or clay, it feels less like leaving something behind and more like leaving something of themselves. So I can’t help but ask—maybe we don’t just make art. Maybe, in some strange and beautiful way… we become it.


We are the only creatures (as far as we know) that not only live but are aware that we’re alive—and that we won’t always be.


That awareness creates a kind of psychological tension. We develop an identity, a story of “me,” and that story becomes precious. It’s not just ego—it’s how we experience meaning. Our relationships, memories, values, even pain—all revolve around this sense of self. Letting that go feels like losing everything that made life feel real.


And yet, as you’ve noticed, that very impermanence can also be a gift. Knowing life ends makes this moment more vivid. Mortality, rather than being the enemy, can be the thing that wakes us up to beauty, connection, and creativity.

We have a hard time letting go of our individuality because we’ve worked so hard to shape it. It’s how we relate to the world. Letting go of it can feel like annihilation. But some people—especially those who’ve brushed up against death, or practiced deep spiritual traditions, or even just aged with awareness—do begin to loosen that grip. Not as a defeat, but as a kind of liberation.


The philosopher Alan Watts said, “Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth.” And yet, we try. Because selfhood is how we feel the world. But letting go of it doesn’t mean erasing ourselves—it can mean recognizing we’re part of something bigger, more fluid, more interconnected than we thought.


Mortality doesn't make you smaller—it makes you more present.


Many older female artists, especially those who’ve lived full lives nurturing others, building families, navigating careers (often with fewer opportunities or recognition), eventually arrive at a point where they’re not just creating art—they’re reclaiming themselves.


But here’s the twist: at the very moment they feel most individual in their voice and vision, many also begin letting go of external validation, perfectionism, or even the desire to “last forever.” Their work becomes less about legacy and more about presence. Less about being seen and more about seeing—the moment, the feeling, the truth of the brushstroke or the texture or the story being told.


In that way, their art is a form of gentle surrender. Not a giving up of self, but a giving into something timeless—creativity, spirit, energy. The ego loosens its grip, and what’s left is often something profoundly universal.


Physics tells us that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. The body stops, the brain ceases firing—but the energy we’ve carried, the impact we’ve had, even down to the literal atoms and particles, disperses and continues. The mystery is whether awareness survives that transformation.


And that's where science fades into philosophy, spirituality, and awe.


I think of things like Kirlian photography or phantom limb sensations—those strange, lingering traces of something that was once there but seems to leave a presence behind. Maybe our presence, our essence, leaves imprints we can’t yet fully measure. Not just in memory, but perhaps in the fabric of things.


As for awareness—maybe not the "I, me, mine" we carry now, but perhaps something more spacious. Like a drop of water returning to the ocean. It doesn’t lose its being—it expands beyond boundaries. If we do become part of something greater, maybe the tight grip on our individual story isn’t lost—it just dissolves into something richer, like harmony in music or color in a painting.


It would be comforting—and maybe true—to imagine that our lives, with all their struggles and beauty, aren’t wasted or vanished at the end, but absorbed into something grander. Not gone. Just changed.


And maybe that’s the invitation: to live now with the awareness that we are already part of something bigger, whether we recognize it or not.


Maybe that’s what art really is—a soft imprint of the soul. Not just something we make, but something that continues us in some form, even after the hands that shaped it are still. Whether we dissolve into memory, energy, or something greater we can’t name, perhaps what matters most is not the permanence of the self, but the moments we dared to create, to express, to connect. In the end, maybe we don’t need to hold on so tightly. Maybe becoming the art we leave behind is enough.


Lorenz Plourde
ProcessArt.ca

3 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 1

Process Art Discovery

🌟 Celebrate the Holidays with Daily Art & Creativity! 🎨🎶 🌟

Between Christmas and New Year’s, I’m bringing you a special treat: a new video every day! From heartwarming Christmas stories to inspiring art tutorials and creative celebrations, there’s something for everyone. Here’s what you can look forward to:

🎄 Dec 23: Doreen’s Okanagan Christmas Stories – Nostalgic tales of holiday traditions in the Okanagan Valley. ❄️
🎁 Dec 24: A Heartfelt Christmas Gift – Anjy & Tony combine art and music for a magical holiday moment. 🎨🎶
🌺 Dec 25: Christmas Fantasy Flowers – Learn to create stunning flowers with alcohol inks. 🌟
🛳️ Dec 26: Art Talks: Teaching Art on Cruise Ships – Anjy shares her journey to teaching art at sea. 🌊
🎨 Dec 27: Creating Depth: 3D Effect on a 2D Surface – Doreen’s tips for mastering monochromatic landscapes.
🌊 Dec 28: Creating Stunning Ocean Resin Coasters – Judy shows how to make breathtaking resin coasters. 🌊✨
✏️ Dec 29: Simple Sketching Techniques – Doreen’s guide to adding depth and shadows to your drawings. 🌿
🏔️ Dec 30: Reverse Painting: Snowy Cabin Adventure – Doreen takes on a fun and unique painting challenge. 🖌️
🎉 Dec 31: New Year’s Eve Celebration – Anjy & Tony share art, music, and their festive traditions! 🎆
⛄ Jan 1: Winter Wonderland in Alcohol Ink – Step into the new year with a serene painting tutorial. 🖼️❄️

✨ PLUS: Stay tuned for Tony’s concert, coming soon! 🎶

Don't miss a single moment of art, music, and creativity this holiday season. Subscribe now and hit the 🔔 to get notified for each upload. Let’s celebrate together!

#HolidayCreativity #ArtInspiration #CreativeJourney

9 months ago | [YT] | 0