6 Things that Inspire Me

As a full time artist it’s easy to start to feel uninspired when you feel like you have to create instead of doing it solely for the passion and joy. The short answer to fixing this is to stop, go out and do the things that bring you inspiration. It’s significantly more helpful to already have a list of the things that bring you inspiration than to try to come up with them in the moment so I challenge you to make your own list. It’s rarely going to be found scrolling online but maybe some of my list will bring you inspiration as well. My inspiration comes from visiting real places, meeting real people, and getting my own hands dirty in that red dirt and dust .

Here are six things that keep my creative fire burning:

1. Early Morning Photography

Before the sun fully rises, there’s this soft golden light that drapes across a land like a worn blanket. That’s the hour I’m often out with my camera, catching the cattle as the morning fog burns off. These photos become my references, not just for anatomy, for the mood. The way light bends around a horn or silhouettes the animal is more important to me than the paintbrush I choose.

Two bulls knocking horns

2. The Smell of Leather and Old Wood

I know it sounds strange, but scent is tied directly to memory — and memory feeds everything I paint. The smell of saddle leather, barn dust, sun-warmed rope, even old pickup dashboards. That’s the Western life. Those smells are a kind of mental sketchbook. When I walk into a tack room or an antique barn, ideas come rushing in. Yeah, sometimes it’s for leather work and not paintings but still counts.

3. Stories My Grandpa Told Me

I love listening to Grandpas stories. He’s not one of those old men who sit on a porch all day talking. He’s as hardworking as ever and does not repeat himself. If you’re smart enough to listen when he speaks you will learn a thing or two. His stories are short and to the point but still paint the best pictures. My favorites are of him and his horse Nugget and their adventures and riding around the Nevada desert. Some are as short as, “Yep, we were seven miles from home and something spooked him, he threw me and took off for home. I had to walk the seven miles back. I didn’t get in trouble for being late.” Some are a bit longer and like how he met my Grandma but that’s for another time.

Steve Doran and the infamous Nugget sometime in the 1940’s

4. Vintage Country & Dark Folk Music

Sometimes, inspiration comes through the record player. I work to Marty Robbins, Waylon Jennings, and Loretta Lynn in the background mixed with modern voices like Corb Lund or Colter Wall. There’s something in outlaw country and alternative folk that feels like it takes you to another place. I can’t listen to The Brothers Comatose without getting goosebumps and watching a movie in my head as all of it becomes inspiration for paintings. The one that inspires me the most is my husband writing new music or refining the stories he tells through his country americana style. Getting to listen to a small idea blossom into an entire world is amazing. Music sets the tone for my brushwork and creativity breeds creativity.

5. Old Western Comics & Dime Store Cowboy Novels

The Pulpy over the top drama of old Western comics and Cowboy short stories is a gold mine of inspiration. I love the art in the comics from the 40’s and 50’s and although it has defiantly inspired some of my pieces it’s the stories they tell that are the best inspiration. I like stories where the good guy wins or have a well crafted redemption arch. I love finding tattered copies of forgotten dime store novels and gently flipping through during quite times.

Forewarning if you are going to read vintage works remember what was acceptable in the world the years they were published.

Merc in her camper reading Dime Western Magazine

6. Exploring Forgotten Towns

There’s something magnetic about a small town with old architecture and if you're lucky working vintage sighs. I will prefer taking backroads instead of the freeway any day. As my Grandpa once said, “You can drive across this whole country and never see any of it.” Old neon signs, ghosted lettering on brick, half-collapsed barns and that feeling you get in limital spaces that once held so much life. These places carry a mood that I can bring back to the paper. So sit down and sketch a while.

The Takeaway?

If you feel uninspired get out and do something you enjoy.

Got something unexpected that inspires you? I’d love to hear it.

Follow me on Instagram for behind the scenes sketches and the songs that shape each piece.

Make time for youself,

MERC

Why I Paint the American West

My grandpa on Nugget and great grandpa, name of horse unknown, in the 1940’s

I was on horseback before I could walk.

My grandfather put me there. He’s the real cowboy in the family. A Navy submariner, a carpenter who built his own homes and barns, and a horseman through and through. Whether it was on Decatur Island when I was little watching him shine his boots, or on his small ranch later seeing my favorite mares hour old baby, being around him was where the West took root in me.

He isn’t a myth. He is a man who worked with his hands and loves his horses. His father before him was a cowboy too. That legacy doesn’t live in a museum for me but in memory, in the smell of hay, in the creak of saddle leather, in the cattle running towed me from the other end of the pasture because they think I have cubes.

I grew up around Herefords in the Pacific Northwest. Not exactly the postcard version of the West, but no less authentic. That’s part of why I paint it: because it’s not always what you think it is. Cowboys don’t only live in deserts. They live in Montana and Kansas and in the wet green valleys of western Washington.

My work leans Southwestern, sure. Partly because I’ve spent most my adult life in Texas. I’m drawn to prickly pear, Texas prickly poppies, and the dry golden tones of wide open country. But I paint the American West because it makes me happy. It’s not always solemn. Sometimes it’s funny like an armadillo wearing a cowboy hat or one stuck in a boot. I like the unloved things such as opossums, rough coats, things that make people wrinkle their noses. I see beauty in them.

My favorite flower is tough enough to bloom in heat and thorns. That feels honest to me. So does coffee and blackberries. I may be a little Texas but western Washington will always be part of who I am. Kansas can suck it… I’m kidding. Kansas is beautiful and if you don’t believe me go for a day hike in Kanopolis state park.

My first cowboy hat was an ugly painted purple and white Resistol with a feather in it. I was maybe three nut I loved it. My first boots were rubber boots to trudge through wet pastures as a kid but my first cowboy boots were pink, worn for my mom’s wedding around age eight. The rodeo was the first sport I ever cared about. I loved watching the bull riding. Now as an adult I cuddle my best friends Holstein named Daisy. Help her brother with his Hungarian gray steppe cattle. Well my husband helps more I always think I’ll be more help than I am but taking photos of each animal is really my job when working cattle. I also assign myself as calf cuddler. Y’all calf cuddler is an important job.

Someday I want my own herd. Not just for the art references out my back door but because it’s part of who I am. The dust, the animals, the way the sun hits worn wood and old leather. Painting the West is how I stay close to my roots. It’s how I carry on a story that started long before I picked up a brush.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it.

I paint the American West because it brings me joy.

Keep riding, keep painting

MERC

Boots, Brushes and the Open Road

cowhide and satin self portrait

There’s a certain kind of quiet that lives out here between the lowing of cattle and the wind through dry grass. That’s where my art starts. Not in the studio, not with a sketch, but out in the world. Boots on the ground, camera in hand, soaking in the places most people don’t get the pleasure of experiencing.

I paint the American West not because it’s fashionable or nostalgic, but because it feels true. There is beauty in it. There is shadow. There is strength. It’s in the posture of the tired ranch hand, the curve of the steer’s horn and the dust that sticks to everything.

I used to be a tattoo artist until chronic nerve pain ended that chapter. But my time there reinvigorated my love and drive to make art. Now I paint full time, working mostly in watercolor, though I stray into oil, acrylic and ink when the piece call for it.

Right now I’m living in a small Kansas town with a basement studio. However, we are fixing up a vintage 1953 Spartan camper to be part mobile studio part home for when my children eventually fly form the nest. The absolute dream of vintage small space living with my husband and dogs on our own ranch with the ability to hit the road. The best of both worlds with the choice to travel and let the changing sky and shifting terrain shape what I paint next as well as a place to call home that my children can always come back to.

This journal, Boots to Brushes, is where I’ll be sharing behind the scenes glimpses, studio days, stories form the road and what it really looks like the build a life around art. If you’ve ever felt pulled toward wide open spaces or wanted to see how a painting comes to life from sketch to finished piece, you’re in the right place.

Keep chasing those dreams,

MERC