Artist Interviews 2025

Sarah Hawkins  
By Johnny Otto



Your work captures the "chaos of creation." Can you share what that process looks like for you, and how you find order or meaning within that chaos?

Painting for me is all about letting go. No strict plan—just letting my mind wander and whatever comes up spills out onto the canvas. It’s messy, unpredictable, and super cathartic. The meaning comes from being fully present in the moment and in the process of letting go. It’s not about control, but about letting things unfold the way they need to.



You often explore themes of love, adventure, and connection. How do these themes shape your art, and do you find them evolving over time?

These themes are really the heart of my work. They’re about feeling deeply and stepping into new experiences, even when they’re uncomfortable or scary. Whether that’s with myself, others, or just embracing the world around me in the present moment. As I grow and embrace more of myself, those themes shift with me. My art evolves as I do, and I think that’s why I keep coming back to them—they're always in motion, just like life itself.



As a co-founder of Pretty Thing, how has working within a studio environment influenced your creative journey and the projects you take on?

Pretty Thing has been invaluable for me as an artist. I owe a lot of that growth to my creative partner, Myah Hollis. We get to bounce ideas off each other, learn new things, and help other creatives put their work out there. I’m so grateful for this journey we’ve taken as a duo, and I get so excited every time we connect with someone new to bring their vision to life. It’s infectious, and it’s given me a wider perspective on how to approach my work.



Abstract expressionism has a rich history of evoking emotion through form and color. What aspects of this movement resonate most with you, and how do you see yourself adding to its legacy?

I’m drawn to the raw emotion of abstract expressionism. It’s not about realism; it’s about feeling. Energy. Movement. The emotional release. Artists like Pollock just let go and created with total freedom, and I really resonate with that. I think what I add to this legacy is the idea that chaos and vulnerability are beautiful. It’s okay not to have it all figured out—and there’s beauty in that messy vulnerability, in just being yourself in the moment.



Based in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, do you feel that your environment influences your art? If so, how does this setting inspire or shape your work?

Absolutely. Lancaster feels like this hidden gem. I joke sometimes that it’s like living in Stars Hollow. It’s small, and quiet, but there’s a ton of creativity running through it. I’ve loved watching the area evolve over the years, embracing more of itself. The slower pace here also definitely gives me space to slow down too, be present. I love getting lost in my studio when I paint—losing track of time, and like a deep exhale.



You describe your work as embracing "the catharsis of letting go." How do you approach the balance between control and spontaneity in your creative process?

For me, it’s all about letting go of the need for control. Which is funny and ironic, because I’ve spent a lot of my life struggling with that! I like order and being put together, and painting really challenges me in that way. It’s a bit of a quiet battle to let go of the part of me that wants to dictate what the work will look like. I want to let it unfold naturally, without forcing it. Spontaneity comes when I trust myself to step back and let whatever I’m feeling come through, without judgment. Control comes in trusting the process and not getting stuck on one vision. If I’m feeling too attached to a canvas, I’ll flip it around. I’ve learned that letting go isn’t losing control—it’s actually gaining a deeper kind of control.



As both an artist and a producer, how do you balance the demands of creating your own work with managing and guiding other creative projects?

I love it when I’ve got a few things going on—whether it’s my own work, Pretty Thing, or other projects I’m involved in. It keeps me buzzing, and I feel like I’m constantly learning how to prioritize what matters most and fill my cup first. It’s all about knowing when to step back from one thing to give energy to the other, and having good boundaries with that—being aware of when I’m giving too much to one area and neglecting the others. I don’t have it all figured out, but I know I’m getting there.



What do you hope people feel or experience when they encounter your art, and are there any particular responses that have stood out to you?

I want people to feel something—anything. I love it when someone has a gut reaction, whether that’s love, confusion, or even dislike. The magic is in that reaction, that spark of feeling. I want people to experience the freedom of letting go and the beauty of imperfection. What resonates with me is when someone says my art made them feel something they can’t quite explain—that’s where the magic lies, in that messy space. Vulnerability and the things that are hard to put into words.