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Journal by Alba Lois
A Chapter Called a Year
I feel a soft glimmer of excitement in my body. A new year is just around the corner. For me, a new year isn’t about big changes. It’s a moment to look inward and ask myself if I’m moving toward the life and purpose I’ve chosen, not the one I fall into by habit. This year gave me direction. A focus that felt crystal clear, even though it came through a lot of grief. Through losing a friend who in many ways was a guiding light. There has also been so much joy and growth this year. I had the chance to exhibit my art in beautiful spaces and I got to meet you. That alone warms my heart. Hearing your thoughts, your stories and knowing that my art, in the midst of it all, has touched you in some way. It means more than I can say. Thank you, truly. I’m here. I get to live this life. And if 2025 taught me this much about who I am, what will 2026 bring? I can’t wait to find out.
To circle back to self
When I left my job to become a self-employed creative, I knew I was stepping into uncertainty. And for someone who’s always leaned on structure, that felt like its own kind of leap. But I also felt, with a quiet clarity, that I needed to go. That this change mattered.
Now, with another transition on the horizon, I feel a tender eagerness rising. A sense that something different might offer light in ways I can’t yet see. When I meet people whose whole presence vibrates with their true self, I feel genuinely inspired. And the more I circle back to myself, the truer I feel. I’m choosing to listen, to feel and to express. My artwork carries that same gentle truth and I hope you can feel it too.
By Alba Lois.
The past week
As the hours of daylight reduce and the autumn leaves fall to the ground, I find myself immersed in a lot of work. I focus on balancing productivity with letting my mind rest on the little beautiful things around me: children’s laughter, candles lit and some warm tea. The darker days can be overwhelming sometimes but as I remind myself, I want to remind you, from my heart, that everything you send out will find its way back. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
By Alba Lois.
Connection
In order for me to create, produce and move through the process, I seek connection. To sense the vibrations of belonging and to connect with other people. Do you know the feeling? With that said, the most precious part is feeling connected with myself. To listen, to feel, and to allow whatever wants to be done, created or expressed. That becomes my guidance.
By Alba Lois.
’A place for everything’
Some days you might feel scattered, like pieces of yourself belong in a hundred different worlds. Trust that even what feels misplaced has a home somewhere nearby.
By Alba Lois.
The quiet joy of waiting for a new day, not out of impatience, but from the simple belief that tomorrow holds magic.
By Alba Lois.
Remembering in sound
Now that my kids are getting older, I get to revisit so many nostalgic animated movies I loved as a kid. But I’m also discovering new ones with them, like Sing 1 & 2. Besides being great movies, the soundtracks are full of classic hits. I now have sing-alongs with my kids to songs by U2, Coldplay, The Beatles and Stevie Wonder and I’m glad they get to hear these old favorites, songs they probably wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.
By Alba Lois.
There are so many parts of this creative life where I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. But when it comes to creating, that part I know.
By Alba Lois.
It’s been a week since I closed my exhibition. The joy I felt. Indescribable. That same week, I also lost a dear friend. As my heart tries to navigate this whirlwind of emotions, I realize there is space for all of it - grief and laughter, pain and joy, creativity and hollow stillness. I’ll sit with it all. Feeling the connection and the creativity we shared was something I’ve rarely experienced with another person. To discover that there are people who make your thoughts feel more understandable and most of all, more true. What a rare and quiet bliss. I’m forever grateful that she taught me that. 🤍
By Alba Lois.
Remembering in sound
My dad and I share a deep curiosity for music. Every week, we exchange new songs, preferably by up-and-coming artists. For example, Dad once sent me “Royals” long before Lorde’s big breakthrough. He’s the one who taught me the importance of truly feeling the rhythm in a song, and how dancing can bring the music to life. On cleaning days at home (back when I was a kid), this was exactly the kind of music he would play. Thanks to the music, cleaning didn’t feel nearly as bad.
By Alba Lois.
EYES WIDE OPEN
You can stand in a room, be there in body but absent in spirit. Time slips by, a quiet thief, if the ordinary is taken for granted.
’EYES WIDE OPEN’ is about clarity and connection - facing both love and fear with equal tenderness, nourishing them with the same open heart.
By Alba Lois.
Creative DNA
My granddad was an artist and a sculptor. When I was growing up, he had a studio in his house where every corner was filled with tools, wood, saws and art. Back then, I was mostly fascinated by all the stuff, less so by the creative process itself. As I got older, I began to explore my own creativity.
Sadly, he passed away before I truly gave painting a real chance, and I often wish I could tell him all about it. But in many ways, he’s here with me, through every brushstroke. When I visit the art supply store (I can picture him walking down the same aisles), and whenever I pack my paintings into the backseat of his old car - I imagine him doing the exact same thing, years ago.
Knowing he honored his creativity and created a life around his art - inspires me to do the same.
By Alba Lois.