Angela Luna

Angela’s Soul Art Day Interview

What challenges have you overcome to claim your life as an artist?

I’m still in that process. I’ve always been a creative soul—the one making playlists for family members as a kid, creating videos for every family occasion, and spending hours in my darkroom in my teens. But growing up in a big, beautiful Mexican family, there weren’t many models for being an artist, so these endeavors were considered more of a “hobby” rather than a life calling.

I was encouraged to pursue something more practical and pushed to go to law school. So I did. Even though I was a “good student,” something always felt off. Later, I found my way into therapy, which tugged at me. It felt closer, but traditional therapy still wasn’t right in my gut. It wasn’t until I discovered expressive arts therapy that things clicked, and I felt like I arrived “home.”
In my Expressive Arts program, I learned two of the most common blocks: “I’m not an artist” and “My art isn’t good enough.” I learned these beliefs are universal obstacles, and I loved how the program embraced all creative forms, not just visual art, but music, movement, narrative, and drama.
Even though I found joy in creating installations and creative nurturing therapeutic spaces, I still positioned myself as a facilitator as a therapist, helping children and adults to find artistic paths that healed their wounds, while denying my own identity as a creator. I saw myself as a muse rather than an artist. Even now, I’m still learning to claim the word “artist.” It wasn’t until I married a man who confidently embraces the title of “artist”, and lovingly challenges me to own it for myself that I began to claim it for myself.
I can’t imagine life without creating beauty, in my therapeutic work, home, and relationships. I’m drawn to color, texture, sound elements, and the exquisite artistry of the natural world. I continue to journey toward creating without judgment and recognizing that art isn’t just something I do, it’s who “I am.”

What inspires you?

I’m drawn to those breakthrough moments when someone discovers art isn’t about making “good” work, but about finding their authentic expression. There’s something incredible about watching someone relax their tight grip on those old beliefs that they “can’t draw” or “aren’t creative”—suddenly their shoulders drop, their breathing changes, and they start creating from a more intuitive place.
What truly inspires me is witnessing people find unexpected insights through creative play. In my creative collage sessions and workshops, folks often start by simply picking images intuitively, then see that their unconscious has revealed something powerful about what a part of them deeply needs. I love using clay the same way, inviting people to shape different parts of themselves, like the worried part or the inner child, then helping them have conversations between these parts. It’s incredible to see someone work through a stuck feeling as their hands move through clay in ways their words couldn’t express. These moments when art knows more than we do remind me why I love this work. Creativity bypasses our thinking mind and speaks right from our deeper wisdom. These surprising revelations keep me believing in the healing power of artistic expression.
Nature constantly teaches me about beauty. The shape of a leaf, the way light shines through trees, the sound of birdsong layered with silence. These natural elements teach us that beauty isn’t about control but presence and authenticity. I bring this wisdom into my work, helping people let go of expectations about what their art “should” look like.
Beauty moves me, not just in finished pieces but in the rawness of process, messiness, and sacred chaos. I’m also inspired by those who’ve claimed their voice and vision despite being told they couldn’t. That reminds me: art is not just an expression, it’s a reclamation.

If your art could talk, what would it say?

If my art could talk, it would probably first whisper, “I’ve been waiting for you to claim me all these years.” It would remind me that I was creating long before I had words for what I was doing, back when I was a kid with a camera, or a teen instinctively choosing just the right music to shift the energy in a room.
My art might gently tease me about how long I’ve kept it in the background, always helping others find their creative voice while keeping my own somewhat muted. “You’ve been hiding behind helping others,” it might say. “It’s beautiful work, but don’t forget that your own expression matters too.”
I think my art would thank me for finally giving it more space to breathe and grow. It would probably say something like, “Notice how alive you feel when you let me flow through you without judgment? That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
My art would remind me that perfection was never the point. It would tell me that whenever I’ve dismissed something I’ve created as “not good enough,” I’ve missed the point entirely.
Most of all, I think my art would simply say, “Keep going. The journey of claiming your creative voice isn’t just about making things, it’s about becoming more fully yourself. And I’m here to help you remember who you’ve always been.”