Where it all began

Even as a kid, I was more likely to be found doodling on the walls than doing what I “should.” Art wasn’t about being good — it was about being honest. Scribbles, shapes, strange color combos… they were just how I made sense of big feelings. Still are.

Back then, I didn’t think of it as art. I just thought, “This needs to come out.” That feeling never really left.

A young child with shoulder-length blond hair sitting at a table, holding a bottle. The child wears a black and white patterned shirt and a pink long-sleeve shirt underneath. The table has a colorful drawing or coloring page and some art supplies. The background includes a white wall and an orange chair.

The Outer World — and the Inner One

Collage of outdoor adventure photographs featuring scenic landscapes and activities, including a woman with arms outstretched on a mountain top, a person with a snowboard on snow, a woman in a backpack taking a selfie on a trail, a lake with mountains, a beach with waves, a canyon with river, and a person with arms outstretched in front of a mountain lake.

Wanderlust carried me across continents:
New Zealand’s wild coasts.
Asian Temples tucked into jungles.
The forests of Canada.
The buzz of Australia.

I picked up colors and textures like souvenirs. But the biggest shift happened inside. Through my work in psychological consultation, I learned to map the emotional terrain within — the quiet places, the tangled ones, the ones that roar.
And all of it now pours into how I paint.

Collection of paintings and art supplies including canvases, paints, brushes, and completed artworks displayed outdoors.

The Joy of Experimenting

When Studio Villekulla came to life, so did the permission to try everything.
Brushes, sure. But also park sand. Kitchen towels. Chalk. Shoes. Fire.
I never settled into one method because each technique brings a different emotion alive.

Some pieces begin with an idea.
Some just happen — like curiosity got paint on its hands and went running.

My studio became a lab of feeling: scraping, layering, pouring, listening.

Letting It Be Seen

This was the scariest part.
Letting the world see what had, until then, only lived between me and a moment of courage.

But I started putting the work out there.
First to friends.
Then to rooms.
Then to strangers who told me my mess looked like their story, too.

That’s when it clicked:
This isn’t just about art.
It’s about letting yourself be fully, beautifully felt — on a wall, in a room, in the world.

A woman with red hair holding a glass of white wine, standing in an art gallery. She is wearing a black dress, a black jacket, and beige boots. Behind her is a colorful abstract painting and art gallery decor.

Why I Sell My Art

I’m a coach who paints — or maybe a painter who coaches. Either way, it’s all part of the same wild garden.

The art you see here? It helps fund coaching for those who need support but can’t meet the full price right now.

Because I believe in growth without “shoulds.” In remembering, not performing.
And in building an ecosystem where creativity and healing feed each other — freely, honestly, joyfully.

→ Curious about my coaching work? Come take a peek.

That’s the loop I want to live in:
Make art. Share it. Use the energy to lift others. Repeat.

Now You’re Part of the Story, Too

Studio Villekulla isn’t just where I paint.
It’s where I explore, heal, rebel, and play.
It’s where curiosity gets messy and feelings get loud.

Thanks for being here.
Whether you’ve come to look, to collect, or just to feel something true —
you’re part of this crooked little world now.

Let’s stay curious.
Let’s make a mess.
Let’s create what wants to be seen.

— Anna