Preparing to Lead: Lessons from the Studio

Preparing to Lead: Lessons from the Studio
Or how an artist somehow ended up talking about leadership

If you had told me years ago that I’d be invited to speak to a leadership class, I probably would have nodded politely… then gone right back to mixing paint. I’ve always thought of myself as an artist—someone who worries more about color, light, and whether a painting is finished than whether I qualify as a “leader.”

And yet, here I am this week, preparing to talk about leadership.

Which made me laugh—and then reflect—on how often the studio has quietly been teaching me lessons I didn’t realize I’d ever need outside of it.

I didn’t prepare for this moment by reading leadership manuals or chasing titles. I prepared the only way I know how: by showing up. By working. By making mistakes. And by learning—sometimes the hard way—what happens when you try to use what you’ve been given with a little care and intention.

Awareness: Figuring Out What You’ve Got
Every artist eventually comes face to face with their gifts and their limitations—usually at the same time. For me, that awareness didn’t arrive with trumpets. It crept in slowly, somewhere between unfinished canvases and paintings that surprised me.

At some point, I realized that my work could do more than hang on a wall. It could tell stories. Spark reflection. Even help support causes I cared about. That awareness didn’t come from asking, What do I want to be? It came from asking, What’s already in front of me?

Resourcefulness: Making Do with What’s on Hand
Anyone who’s spent time in a studio knows this truth: inspiration has terrible timing. You work with the light you have, the tools you own, and whatever ideas decide to show up that day.

Over the years, I learned that the same is true in life. Waiting for perfect conditions usually means waiting forever. Preparation often looks like using what’s already within reach—and trusting that it’s enough to get started.

Timing: Knowing When to Step In
Painting teaches patience, but it also teaches commitment. There’s a moment when you have to stop circling the canvas and make a move. Too soon, and you rush it. Too late, and the energy disappears.

Being asked to speak this week didn’t happen overnight. It grew out of years of showing up, doing the work, and not always knowing where it might lead. Preparation, it turns out, has a way of revealing itself only when opportunity knocks.

As I think about standing in front of that leadership class, I’m reminded that preparation rarely looks impressive while it’s happening. It’s shaped in ordinary days—brushstroke by brushstroke—long before anyone labels it as leadership.

And maybe that’s the real takeaway.

So here’s a question I’ll leave you with, from one person figuring it out as he goes:

What might you be quietly preparing for—without even realizing it yet?