Feminist Art By Monica Brinkman

In 2019, I embraced a transformative journey, leaving a nine-year relationship and corporate career to immerse myself in self-care and art.

Through therapy, yoga, and meditation, I discovered resilience and channeled it into vibrant paintings that celebrate feminine strength and introspection.

Watching my self-care roots take hold has been one of the quietest, most powerful experiences of my life.

At first, I didn’t believe they’d grow. Things felt hopeless for a long time. But the idea of ✨ rooting down to rise up ✨ stayed with me.

And like any plant, you don’t see the shift right away. But if you’re patient… something takes hold beneath the surface. And that changes everything.

I learned to let go of what no longer served me — the relationship, the career, and the expectations of who I was supposed to be.

I gave myself permission to be imperfect. To grow slowly. To show myself the compassion I’d been giving to everyone else.

I felt free when I stopped dating. Freer still when I left my corporate accounting job.

Every time I released something that wasn’t mine to hold… I made more room for who I really was.

Yoga is my happy hour — my daily breath of calm in a chaotic world.

Moving through poses outside, under the sky, is pure magic. I feel strong and centred, even as the world moves fast around me.

It’s not just a workout — it’s a moment of bliss, of balance, of coming home to myself.

In my art, I paint women in yoga poses as an act of advocacy — for body autonomy, for softness, for stillness that holds power.

My body isn’t just something I move — it’s something I listen to.

Through yoga, stillness, and creating art, I’ve learned that the body speaks long before the mind can make sense of things.

Sometimes she whispers. Sometimes she aches. And sometimes she stretches toward the sky like she’s remembering something ancient.

I don’t paint the body to idealize it — I paint it to honor it. To say: you belong here, exactly as you are.

Healing didn’t look like a breakthrough — it looked like a thousand quiet choices.

I stopped waiting to be rescued. I stopped asking for permission to rest, to create, to dream bigger.

I started leading myself — gently, and with grace — back to who I really was.

And now? I trust that soft power. I trust the pace of my own process. I trust the version of me that doesn’t need to be louder to be heard.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want to live from fire.

I chose softness instead — compassion instead of anger, presence instead of performance.

These days, I don’t raise my voice. I raise energy. I offer calm. I give hugs like it’s my love language.

Yoga, drawing, meditation — they root me. They shape my inner landscape.

The real transformation? I didn’t just change my environment. I changed the way I exist in it.

Every time I share my story, another woman says, “Me too.”

We’ve all walked different paths — but somehow, we’ve been holding the same weight.

Telling the truth is how we start to let it go. How we take back our power, one honest conversation at a time.

When I stopped clinging to the past, something deeper grew: roots. And now? I rise from that place.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come — and endlessly grateful for the Feminist Art community that makes rising a shared act.

Drawing and painting have been with me for as long as I can remember. Whether it’s figures, landscapes, animals, or something entirely imagined — creating brings me home to myself.

I’ve always been supported in this. My mom nurtured my creativity from the start, and both of my parents encouraged me to pursue my passions at McMaster University, where I earned degrees in both Fine Arts and Accounting.

Art is more than a skill to me — it’s a way of seeing, feeling, and honoring the world.

I paint because it feels good to make something that didn’t exist before. That, to me, is magic.

Meet Olive Branch — my 4-year-old goldendoodle and the heart of my studio.

She’s a soft, silly reminder that love, presence, and play belong in the creative process.

Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better assistant — or a better friend.

Some stories take time to tell.

What I can share is this: I’ve been through a chapter that nearly swallowed me — and I made it out. Not because it was easy, or fast, or neat… but because I kept choosing myself, one tiny moment at a time.

This tattoo is my quiet badge. A reminder that I survived the season that once convinced me I wouldn’t.

Today, I have what I need to thrive. The darkness doesn’t own me anymore.

I’ve lived through some wild chapters — but where I’ve landed feels like a beginning.

These days, I’m focused on creating a life that feels good in my bones. A life that’s soft, strange, sacred… and entirely mine.

I believe in kindness, in big feelings, in giving your beautifully wired brain all the space it needs. I believe in being weird, wild, and tender — without asking for permission.

That’s what I want for you, too. Your terms. Your magic. Your rhythm.