I've been making art my whole life.

Art school. Pet portraits. Weird shit. Copying other people's weird shit.
And then I quit. Like a lot of things.

A few years later I found myself in a sad season, as we do. I needed art again. And therapy. Mostly both.

But I was rushing toward something, trying to be someone, trying to be healed — to get to the end before I'd even started.

I got burnt out, as we do. I almost quit, again.

Then someone told me to paint what I enjoy. So I did. And for the first time I didn't care if anyone liked it.

The disco balls. The moons. The tile-by-tile, hour-by-hour kind of making. Favorite songs on repeat. Making a mess. Losing track of time. Being OK with starting the whole thing over.

When I finally made something for me, everything shifted. The end was no longer the goal.

That's what Sky Disco is.

A reminder that the process is the point.

That joy is usually hiding in plain sight.

That a disco ball, a moon, and you aren't so different. All waiting for the right light to reveal what was there all along.

Spoiler: you're the light.

Thanks for dancing with me.

X, KT

(SKY DISCO)