KCraftArt

Spring always feels like a reset 🌸 Longer days, a little more warmth, and that pull to get out and see something new. I’ve been needing that energy lately, and I’m so ready for it.
This week I’m heading to New Mexico ✈️ I’ll be there Friday, finally getting to see my friend Kahla, eat all the Hatch chiles I can get my hands on, and just say yes to a new adventure.
Something about spring makes it feel like the perfect time to go. 🌿

Lately I’ve been a little quieter on here—and I’m sorry for that. I’ve been pouring everything I have into murals and making sure the wharf is thriving, and some days that takes all of me.

If you see me at an art walk, just know it probably took every ounce of energy I had to get there—but I wanted to show up anyway. This season has been overwhelming in the fullest sense… but also incredibly meaningful.

I’m so grateful to be part of this community that keeps showing up, supporting, and creating alongside me. Even when I’m stretched thin, I wouldn’t trade it for anything 🤍

We have so many amazing new pieces by , and they’re finally here at Old Stove! 🌿✨
Plein air season has officially arrived, and her work brings the outdoors straight into . Come by, grab a beer, and soak in these beautiful scenes! 🎨🍺

Another day, another mural.



Photo credit:

February at Pacific Place was one for the books ✨
We had such an incredible weekend at the Pacific Place Art Experience; amazing energy, a steady flow of visitors, and a space filled with creativity from start to finish. Our vendors absolutely crushed it this month, with some of their best sales yet and so many meaningful connections made along the way.
To top it all off, we had an incredible live musician on the 4th floor who brought the whole experience together. The music echoed through the space and created the kind of atmosphere you just had to be there for.
So grateful for everyone who came out to support local artists and be part of something special. We’re building something really beautiful here 🤍

Markas Odom (b. 1992, Oak Park, IL) is an independent painter, illustrator, and caricaturist living and working in Seattle.
His work blends flat 2D design with abstract shapes that suggest movement, layered with a carefully curated color palette that feels both intentional and instinctive. The result? Dreamlike compositions that pull you in and hold you there.
Markas creates with the intention of opening the eye — inviting viewers to slow down, lean in, and reflect. Each piece becomes a quiet universe of vulnerability, emotion, and self-exploration. Mesmerizing. Expansive. Deeply human.

There’s something special waiting on the 3rd floor of in Seattle.
We’re featuring new work by local artist — and her pieces pull you in with bold color, layered texture, and intimate glimpses of quirky poses and unexpected postures. There’s a playfulness to her work… a little tension, a little humor, and a whole lot of personality.
Can anyone hold a goose? No.
Can anyone own one of her pieces? Maybe. 😉
These works feel both personal and curious — like catching someone mid-thought, mid-shift, mid-story. The kind of art that makes you pause a little longer than you planned.
If you’re interested in viewing the collection (or claiming one for yourself), reach out. Let’s get you upstairs.

Throwback to one of my very first shows on the East Coast.
This girl really thought, how hard could it be?
Apply to shows. People buy your art. Easy… right?
No.
It’s endless hours of planning.
It’s notebooks full of paintings I haven’t made yet because they’re still stuck in the “not ready” phase in my head.
It’s creating… and then applying.
And what most people don’t realize? Applying to shows costs money. $10–$50 a submission. It adds up fast. Especially when you’re not getting into all of them.
Then you have to market yourself.
Post on social media.
Stay relevant.
Keep creating.
Make things people actually want.
And be good at it.
The pressure is insane.
I’ve been doing this full time for 5 years, and if I’m honest, I make well below minimum wage. I cry. A lot. I think about quitting and going back to restaurants more than I’d like to admit.
But I also have the most incredible community. The support. The collectors. The friends who show up. That’s what makes it worth it.
So the next time you see an artist’s work and think, “I could do that”… just remember:
That piece is one tiny part of a much bigger process.
A process that takes courage, money, vulnerability, rejection, and an unbelievable amount of persistence.
And somehow… we keep choosing it anyway. 🎨✨

To everyone who told me I couldn’t do it—
To the man in my twenties who said I wasn’t smart, that at least I could draw: you reduced me to what felt convenient for you. What you missed was that intelligence doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it builds quietly, patiently, until it’s undeniable.
To the man who said I wasn’t financially savvy enough to run a business: you confused control with competence. You mistook my openness for naivety. You were wrong. I learned. I adapted. I built anyway.
To the man who said a woman’s worth is measured by her ability to have babies—and when I couldn’t, you cheated and walked away: you taught me exactly what kind of future I refused to accept. I am not broken. I was never incomplete. My value was never tied to your expectations or your cruelty.
To the friends I lost because I was too blunt: I stopped sanding myself down to be easier to swallow. I chose truth over comfort. I chose growth over approval.
To the jobs I lost because I was too open: I refused to become smaller to fit into places that benefited from my silence. I learned that transparency is a threat only to systems built on fear.
Here’s what you should know now:
I’m in charge.
I am strong.
I am smart.
I lead with intention. I create with purpose. I build spaces where people feel safe, seen, and powerful—because I had to learn how to do that for myself first.
I have a community that loves me—not for what I can provide, not for how agreeable I am, but for who I am when I stand fully in myself.
You don’t get credit for my resilience.
But you did help clarify my direction.
I didn’t succeed to prove you wrong.
I succeeded because I finally believed myself.
—
Kierstan Craft

Photo credit: .on.35mm

The girl I was back then never would have guessed that ten years later she’d be a successful artist—opening studios, running businesses, and curating spaces that bring people together.
She never would have guessed she wouldn’t be married, or that she wouldn’t own a house by now.
She definitely never would have guessed she’d travel around the world more than once.
And she never would have guessed she’d take so many leaps on her own.
Not alone. Just self-led, and deeply supported.
Here’s what I’ve learned: don’t wait for someone else to live your life. Don’t wait until you feel “ready.” I almost never feel ready for any adventure and somehow that’s exactly what makes it better.
Growth doesn’t come with certainty. It comes with showing up anyway.

Last year took me through galleries and museums all over the world. Quiet rooms, loud ideas, small details that stayed with me longer than expected. Those little moments of inspiration shaped my work more than I realized. This year, I’m excited to keep going—seeing more, learning more, and letting curiosity lead. ✨
arttravel inspiredbyart contemporaryart womenartists globalart studiofuel artworld creativejourney

I’ve been in the studio almost daily lately. Covered in paint, chasing ideas, and bringing creatures to life. I’m deep in the middle of making work for three show submissions while also prepping for new shows coming up, and it feels good to be this immersed again.
If you want to see what’s been taking over my studio, come check out Creatures, hosted by , this Thursday from 5–9pm. Would love to see familiar faces, meet new ones, and share what I’ve been building.
🖤