Sound of Music

Abstract Calligraphy Wall Art for Modern Homes

Sound of Music

When you let go, what flows through you?

I had just seen the call for submissions to a music festival guide, and I felt a surge of excitement. But then it hit me—I didn’t have a single finished artwork to submit, and the deadline was almost here.

I sat down with a few musical phrases I liked, hoping they would spark inspiration. I wanted to create something that captured the soul of music, the way it makes you feel, not just what it says. But every sketch I made felt forced. Nothing worked. I was running out of time and losing confidence.

That’s when I stopped trying to control it. I turned on the music, and let it guide me. No planning, no sketches—just pure improvisation. My hand danced with the rhythm. The lines flowed freely, echoing the emotion in every note.

When I looked at the piece, I saw movement, harmony, and emotion. The ink had captured the feeling of the music—and finally it felt right. That spontaneous session became the start of a new collection.

This collection is for fellow music and art lovers. It’s a visual celebration of the kind of magic that happens when we stop overthinking and simply feel. I hope it inspires others to listen deeply, create freely, and enjoy the flow.
Abstract Wall Art 19.5x25.5" — Improvisation I

Abstract Wall Art 19.5x25.5"

Improvisation I

When I was younger, I often listened to music while working. It helped me focus, gave everything a rhythm. Over time, life got louder—kids, responsibilities, constant noise—and I stopped turning the music on. I thought I needed silence to create.

But one day, my spouse took care of the kids, and for the first time in a while, the house was quiet. I turned on a symphony—just to see what would happen. And something shifted.

The music carried me. I didn’t plan the lines or force the shapes—I just followed the flow. The sound moved through me, and my pen moved with it.

That’s how this piece came to life.
I didn’t plan every stroke.
I didn’t force it.
I just let the music guide me, followed the feeling, and trusted the process.
And as the lines unfolded, what started as play became something else:
a reminder of how freeing it feels to let go and follow the rhythm.

For me, that’s what art is really about. Not just how it looks, but the story, the process, the feeling behind it.
Abstract Wall Art 19.5x25.5" — Flow of music

Abstract Wall Art 19.5x25.5"

Flow of music

There’s something I’ve always loved about how music looks—not just how it sounds. Notes on a page, waveforms across a screen, rhythm made visible.

It reminds me of a creative brief we once got in an art and music project. A fellow student uploaded a song to SoundCloud and paired it with a drawing—he shaped the musician’s mustache entirely from the audio waveform. It was clever and energetic, and it stuck with me—not because of the joke, but because sound became something you could see.

This piece came from that memory. I didn’t try to be clever this time—just let the music move me. Paper became silence, ink became notes. Each line feels like a sound has its visual form.

This work values the idea that music isn’t just something you hear—it can be seen, felt, and translated into shapes and lines.
Framed abstract calligraphy artwork Standing still in a frame

Abstract Wall Art 18x24"

Still standing

I’ve been working on a new piece for my Sound of Music collection — a series where I translate rhythm and emotion into calligraphy. For this one, I wanted to go bigger: 18x24 inches. I used the same technique I normally use for smaller pieces, like 12x12 — gluing paper to a wood panel. But this time, it didn’t work.

The edges didn’t stick. The paper bubbled and lifted in places. I stood there staring at it, frustrated and unsure if I should try to fix it or throw it away.

And through all of this, I had Elton John playing in the background — as usual. I realized we always end up listening to him on road trips. It’s become our travel soundtrack. This time, two songs kept playing on repeat: “Rocket Man” and “I’m Still Standing.” Both stayed with me. I hadn’t picked one for the piece yet.

But then something shifted.

What if I didn’t fix it? What if I let it be part of the piece?

I peeled off what I could and left the rest. The torn, imperfect paper became the background. And just like that, I knew the song: I’m Still Standing.

Because sometimes, standing strong doesn’t mean pushing harder — it means letting go. Trusting the process. Letting things unfold, even if it looks nothing like what you planned.

This piece taught me that again.

I’m still standing. Not because I fought harder —
but because I finally stopped fighting at all.
Blue card with Improvisation I artwork on a blue background

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