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Check Out Kristy Hawkes’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Kristy Hawkes.

Hi Kristy, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
I’ve loved art for as long as I can remember. I was the quiet kid in the corner, always drawing. Always. Growing up, I only ever wanted to be two things: a mother and an artist. I consider it one of the greatest blessings of my life that I’ve been able to do both.

My husband and I raised our four children in South Ogden, Utah. When our nest emptied, something in me stirred again. What began as painting in the corner of my bedroom slowly grew into something more. I moved from watercolor to acrylic and eventually found my true medium in oil. Oils allow me to capture depth, detail, and light in a way that feels limitless.

I started small while I learned, entering local contests and art shows, eager for every opportunity to grow. Before long, I was drawn to larger canvases. The bigger the better. My current favorite size is 48 x 60 inches — large enough to immerse the viewer completely. An anniversary trip to Lake Tahoe changed everything for me. The clarity of the water, the light, the movement — I felt compelled to paint it. That “need” turned into a body of work centered on clear water and reflection. Today, water is the primary subject of my work. I don’t just paint water; I paint the memories we attach to it. We all carry cherished moments — a week at camp, a family reunion by the lake, the way sunlight danced on the water during a quiet afternoon. I aim to capture that feeling of having been there before — the familiar stillness, the nostalgia, the sense of peace. I’m honored to have collectors and gallery representation in Truckee, California near Lake Tahoe.

My business is still young, and I’m building it with intention. What began as a hobby has grown into a full-time career with an in-home studio. I continue to pursue exhibitions and gallery representation, particularly in Utah, and I’m excited about what lies ahead.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Has the road been smooth? Not exactly. I never set out to start a business. That was never the plan. I was simply painting and learning, and before I knew it, my inventory had grown far beyond what one home could reasonably hold. It became clear that if I was going to keep painting, I needed to start selling. With the help of my husband and brother-in-law, we officially started a business.

At times, I felt like I was starting late, as if everyone else had already figured it out. That feeling both pushed me forward and tried to hold me back. I had to move quickly, learn quickly, and find my place in the art world. Growth rarely feels comfortable, and this journey has been no exception.

I’m an introvert by nature. Walking into a room and loudly proclaiming my work for sale doesn’t come easily to me. Social media can feel the same way — ever-changing and often loud. I don’t love shouting to be heard. That’s one of the reasons gallery representation has been such a gift. I focus on painting; they focus on selling. It’s a partnership that allows me to stay in my strength.

At the same time, I do step outside my comfort zone. I regularly participate in local fine art fairs and festivals, where I sell my work directly and often paint live during the events. Those moments allow people to see the process up close — the brushwork, the layers, the movement — and they create meaningful conversations. It’s a quieter way of connecting that feels authentic to me.

Rejection has been part of the process. I’ve been turned down by exhibitions, galleries, and shows. Early on, that was difficult. Now I understand it differently. My work isn’t meant for everyone, and that’s perfectly fine. The right collectors find it.

My newest challenge is scale. I’ve gradually moved from small, manageable pieces to canvases so large they barely fit in my studio — and certainly not in my car. It’s a problem I’m grateful to have. Growth often brings new challenges, but they’re the kind I’m thrilled to navigate.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
In a nutshell, I paint water. That sometimes confuses people — who just paints water? I do. I’ve always been drawn to it. From puddles to mountain lakes to the ocean, if there’s water nearby, now I want to study it and paint it.

What captivates me most is the light and the reflections. Surface water is both a window and a mirror. I’m fascinated by what we see clearly reflected on top and what we barely glimpse beneath. The fractured light that bends and warps as it moves across the surface — that’s where the magic lives. Capturing that distortion, that shimmer, that layered depth is what excites me every time I step into the studio.

I’m selective about the water I paint. I’m drawn to gentle, rolling movement — calm but not still. I don’t paint ferocious waves or chaos. The work reflects how I feel, so I’m thoughtful about what I place on the canvas. The water I paint carries a sense of peace, rhythm, and quiet strength.

Over time, people have begun to recognize me at events as “the lady who paints water.” I smile every time I hear it. That’s me. I’ve always been a water girl.

We’d love to hear about how you think about risk taking?
Risk-taking has been woven into this journey more than I expected. One of the biggest risks I took was walking into **Piper J. Gallery** in Truckee, California. That’s when I met Piper, the owner. The conversation we had changed everything. She took a chance on a relatively new artist, and I will always be grateful for that. She didn’t treat me like a beginner — she treated me like a professional. In many ways, that gave me permission to step fully into that identity myself.

Putting my own name on my business was another risk. When your name is the brand, success and failure both feel very personal. Sharing my process publicly — especially on social media — carries that same vulnerability. I don’t have a formal art degree, and early on I worried about judgment from other artists or from people watching along the way. It’s never easy to make mistakes in front of an audience.

Painting live at fairs and festivals pushed me even further. Creating in front of others can feel exposing, but it’s also shown me something important: people are far more gracious and curious than critical. They’re simply interested in how the work comes to life.

I’ve learned that growth requires visibility. If I want to improve, I have to keep putting myself out there. My most ambitious step yet is exhibiting at the **Salt Lake Art Show**, held at the **Mountain America Expo Center** in Sandy, Utah, May 14–17, 2026. Even the booth fee felt like a leap of faith. But this is the strongest body of work I’ve created so far, and I’m genuinely excited to share it. Some risks feel terrifying. This one feels thrilling.

Underneath all of it — the growth, the risks, the opportunities — is my faith. I don’t take lightly that I’ve been given both the desire and the ability to paint. I see it as a gift, and I want to honor God in how I use it.

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