Navigating the Wilderness Within

The story of Salvaged Delight — and the one still unfolding

Within each of us lives an untamed wilderness. A vast and quiet landscape of creativity, dreams, and deep inner knowing.

It is not always a place of clarity. Sometimes it feels overgrown with doubt, tangled in the vines of perfectionism, or hidden beneath the shadows of fear and uncertainty.

But even in the thick of it, something real remains.
Something honest. Something alive.

Here, in the heart of that wild and tender terrain, your truest self is still waiting. Not to be fixed, but to be remembered.

That is the heart of Salvaged Delight.

A space for the wanderers and wonderers. For the weary-hearted artists trying to return to themselves beneath the shoulds, the shame, and the noise of trying to be more.

It is for those salvaging forgotten parts of who they are and daring to find delight in the process.

Painting of trees with watercolor palette and brush.
Person jumping in front of a white brick wall, wearing a striped sweater, black pants, brown boots, and a brown hat.

Why "Salvaged Delight"?

The name came to me like a quiet revelation.

Salvaged speaks to the beauty of what has been overlooked, buried, or nearly forgotten. The parts of ourselves we once believed were too messy, too tender, or too unpolished to be worth sharing. It is about retrieving those pieces, gently dusting them off, and giving them space to belong.

Delight is the light that breaks through. The quiet joy we find not in having it all figured out, but in the honest, imperfect process of becoming. It is the small, glimmering moments that remind us we are still here. Still creating. Still capable of wonder.

Together, these words reflect the spirit of this space:

To rediscover the beauty in what once felt forgotten, and to find joy in the becoming.

Not Sure Where to Begin?

Sketch of a traveler with backpack and hat facing a mountain landscape.

Start wherever the spark catches.

Let this space be an invitation. Not to figure everything out, but to follow your curiosity and notice what feels alive.

Here are a few doorways you are welcome to wander through:

🖌️ If you are returning to creativity after a long pause…
Start with: How I Make Space for Art (Even When Life Is Full)

🎨 If you are struggling with imposter syndrome in your art…
Start with: The Art of Becoming: For the Artist Who Is Still Figuring It Out

📦 If you are feeling weighed down by pressure to be productive…
Start with: Your Art Doesn’t Have to Be Useful

🪞 If you are seeking a gentle shift in perspective…
Start with: 7 Things Lighting Up My Creative Life

There is no wrong place to begin.
Let your curiosity lead the way and take as much time as you need.

Person wearing a cardigan and hat walking in a desert landscape with large rocky mountains in the background, surrounded by sparse vegetation and shrubs.
Hey, I am Courtney

A Bit About Me

Close-up portrait of a person with long brown hair, green eyes, and wearing a gray shirt.
Black cat resting on a textured white blanket in soft sunlight.

I have always had a curious heart. Drawn to winding paths, quiet questions, and the kind of beauty that is easy to overlook.

I collect quotes like treasures. I paint for the joy of it. I design things that may never be seen by anyone else.

I have spent years trying to find the “right path,” only to discover that I feel most like myself when I am wandering. Slowly. Softly. Guided by what feels alive.

I am most at home in spaces where I do not have to explain myself. Where I can move at my own pace, follow what delights me, and feel free to just be.

The desert holds a special place in my heart, not because it is soft, but because it is wild. Resilient. Radiant in its own way. I carry that spirit with me, even now, far from its untamed beauty.

I live in Kentucky with my husband, Michael, and our two animals — Izzy, our silly golden retriever, and Finn, our wild little cat. I am a quiet person by nature, most grounded when I am close to the rhythms of the earth. The seasons shifting. The moon waxing and waning. The stars reminding me that everything has its time.

Watercolor paintings of desert landscapes with cacti and bushes against a sunset or sunrise sky.
A couple kissing softly lit by sunset, shadows of tree branches in the background. The man has short hair and a beard, wearing a gray shirt, and the woman wears a brown hat and white top.
Golden retriever standing in tall grass with trees in the background.

I am endlessly fascinated by how we are made. The shapes of our inner worlds. The stories we carry. The ways we protect and soften and grow.

For me, wonder is not just something I seek. It is how I move through the world. A way of seeing. A way of staying open.

These are the things I return to when I need to feel like myself:

  • A brush dipped in watercolor.

  • A cool, sunny day in the backyard.

  • Game night with the ones I love.

  • Sunflowers. Meadows. The wildness of the desert.

  • Spontaneous road trips.

  • A quote that finds me at the right time.

  • Rearranging the spaces I dwell in (again).

  • A life that feels like it belongs to me.