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We are encouraged to choose quickly.
Scroll, decide, move on. Add to cart. Fill the wall. Keep up.
But when it comes to art in your home, fast decisions rarely lead to lasting satisfaction. Many people end up with pieces that look fine, photograph well, and technically work in the space, yet something still feels unsettled. The room looks finished, but it does not feel right.
Choosing art slowly creates a different result. One that feels grounded, intentional, and personal in a way that cannot be rushed.
When art is chosen quickly, it is usually chosen for the wrong reasons.
It matches the sofa. It fills an empty wall. It fits the trend of the moment.
None of those are bad reasons on their own, but they rarely lead to work that holds meaning over time. Trend-driven pieces date quickly. Statement art can feel exciting at first and exhausting later. Visual noise adds to mental noise, especially in homes where life is already full.
A space does not need more stimulation. It needs grounding.
That sense of something being “off” often has nothing to do with the quality of the art itself, and everything to do with how it was chosen.
Choosing art slowly does not mean waiting for years without direction.
It means paying attention.
It looks like noticing which images you return to. Which pieces hold your attention without trying to impress you. Which ones feel steady rather than urgent.
Slow choosing allows a piece to earn its place. It gives you time to imagine living with it, not just seeing it once. It shifts the decision away from how something looks in isolation and toward how it will feel over time.
This kind of choice is not about indecision.
It is about trust.
Trusting your internal response over external opinion. Trusting that the right piece will feel like recognition, not persuasion.
Art chosen with care behaves differently in a space.
It does not dominate the room or compete with everything around it. It settles. It becomes part of the atmosphere rather than the focal point that demands constant attention.
Over time, these pieces reveal more. They shift with light and distance. They feel different in the morning than they do at night. They become familiar without becoming invisible.
This is often the difference between art that decorates and art that supports. One fills space. The other changes how a space feels to live in.
There is a quiet rebellion in choosing art slowly.
In a culture built on speed, urgency, and constant replacement, slowness becomes a form of discernment. Choosing fewer pieces, chosen well, reflects a larger decision about how you want to live.
It signals a preference for depth over excess. For meaning over momentum. For spaces that give something back rather than ask for more.
Homes shaped this way tend to feel calmer, not because they are empty, but because everything in them has been chosen on purpose.
This way of thinking shapes how I create and release my work. Pieces are made deliberately and shared with the same care they are meant to be chosen with.
A new body of work will be unveiled at Artist Project Toronto, and released following the show.
If you are drawn to art that unfolds over time and earns its place slowly, you already understand why waiting matters.
Sometimes the most meaningful homes are shaped one careful choice at a time.
