We’re looking forward to introducing you to Kristen Herrington. Check out our conversation below.
Kristen, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: Have any recent moments made you laugh or feel proud?
Recently, I entered a local pie-making contest in a small town that had all the “Gilmore Girls” vibes. Families wandering the sidewalks, kids getting photos with scarecrows, and that sense of genuine community connection that I find so comforting.
I’d only started baking pie a few months earlier, at a time when I was craving something separate from my regular art practice — a simple hobby just for me. It actually began by accident: I had bought too many peaches for a summer BBQ and decided to try my hand at baking my first peach pie. I loved the slowness of it — making my own pastry, experimenting with recipes, and creating something from scratch that felt both personal and delicious.
Over the summer, I baked a new pie nearly every week. It became almost meditative. A way to spend time alone, play, and step away from the productivity mindset that often comes with creative work. When my husband found out about the local pie contest, he encouraged me to enter. He was more excited about it than I was and told everyone we encountered that I was entering. I would blush, he would sample pie.
I decided on a pumpkin pie made entirely with locally grown ingredients. I learned that “pie pumpkins” exist! The competition was full of incredible bakers and even had celebrity judges. I had absolutely no expectations, so when they called my name for third place, I burst into laughter and pure joy.
It might sound funny, but that small-town ribbon feels like one of the most meaningful things I’ve ever won. It represented personal growth, the joy of trying something new, and the reminder that creativity doesn’t always have to be tied to outcomes. Sometimes, the most fulfilling art comes from play. Bonus, I get to eat all of my creations!
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m an artist, author, and podcaster based in Nova Scotia, and my work has always centered around storytelling and connection. I co-host the podcast Make It with Mike & Kristen, where we highlight the voices of other creatives and explore the many ways people build lives around art, passion, and purpose. I love showing that there isn’t just one path to creative fulfillment. That we all live and “make it” differently.
I also founded Togetherland, a community art gallery and creative hub that has hosted concerts, workshops, and art markets over the past few years. It’s been a place for people to gather, collaborate, and share stories. Something I deeply value as both an artist and a human.
Art-making and storytelling are really at the core of everything I do. Whether I’m painting, writing, or hosting a conversation, I’m always drawn to the process of translating lived experience into something that resonates. Lately, I’ve been in a period of transition — experimenting with new mediums and allowing myself to sit in that uncomfortable space between what’s familiar and what’s next. It’s challenging, but I’ve learned that’s where the real growth happens, both creatively and personally.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world told me who I had to be, I was a dreamer. A kid from a small town with big, creative ideas that didn’t quite fit the mold. But like many of us, I followed the path I thought I was supposed to: I earned the degrees, built a career in my field, and eventually landed the six-figure 9-to-5 job that, on paper, looked like success.
The truth was, it never felt fulfilling. I had done everything “right,” yet I felt completely disconnected from myself. Growing up, a creative or adventurous life felt unattainable — even a little ridiculous — in a place where stability was valued over self-expression. I learned to equate acceptance with conformity, and for a long time, I lived by those unspoken rules.
Leaving that world to pursue art was terrifying, but it’s been the most liberating decision of my life. It hasn’t been easy. There are still moments of doubt and uncertainty, but this path feels like mine. I finally get to live with authenticity, creativity, and a sense of ownership over the life I’m building.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
I love this question because it feels like I’m right in the middle of a defining wound moment in my life. For the past three years, I’ve owned and operated a community art gallery called Togetherland. It’s been a space for connection, creativity, and storytelling. A place where people came to make art, share music, and feel a sense of belonging.
Recently, due to the realities of a struggling economy, the challenges of affordability, and news that the building I rent will soon be sold, I had to make the difficult decision not to reopen next year. At first, I resisted letting go. So much of my identity was tied to that space, and I felt like I was losing a piece of myself. I grieved hard all summer. It felt like the end of something beautiful that I wasn’t ready to release.
Through self-reflection (and therapy!), I’ve begun to see this not as a loss, but as a transition. Letting go of Togetherland as a physical space might actually create room for new opportunities — both personally and professionally. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m learning to embrace the uncertainty.
We so often only hear from people once they’ve made it to the other side of their struggles. I’m still very much in the middle! Still healing, still figuring it out. But I’ve been creating more space to be alone, slow down, and step away from the noise of social media and outside opinions. It may sound indulgent, but this intentional quiet has been necessary for clarity.
I know that one day I’ll look back on this time with deep gratitude rather than sadness, as the season that reshaped me and reminded me that growth often happens in the letting go. I’m learning to trust my intuition again and reconnect with my “why.” If you ever find yourself off-track, this is a great question to ask yourself. Why did you begin in the first place? Why do you need to communicate your point of view? Why do you find this fun? Those reminders can take us back to a place of excitement and authenticity.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
The arts and entertainment industry has a long history of telling artists that if they just keep going — keep sacrificing, keep grinding a little harder — the glory and success they dream of are just around the corner. It’s a seductive idea, but also a harmful one. This mindset keeps us chasing what’s next instead of being present with what is.
We’re conditioned to believe that fulfillment is always waiting at the next milestone. The next exhibition, grant, tour, or viral moment. But that pursuit can pull us away from the truth that where we are, and who we are, is already enough. There’s a lot of shame baked into the idea of “making it.” We start to overlook the friendships, freedom, and playfulness that once defined our creative spirit. We forget that many of the things we take for granted now were once our biggest dreams.
It’s dangerous to tell creatives that perseverance alone guarantees success, because there is no final destination. The industry rarely acknowledges that the “grind” can become a hedonic treadmill: always running, never arriving, never satisfied.
I’m trying to take my art back to a place of purity and joy. Making for the sake of making, not for validation or opportunity. When we focus on the process rather than the outcome, everything else tends to unfold naturally. It’s a return to presence, to play, and to remembering why we started creating in the first place.
Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. If immortality were real, what would you build?
On some level, I actually believe we are immortal. I think our souls continue to exist on an energetic level, and that the love, creativity, and intention we put into the world ripple far beyond our physical forms.
But if I were to spend eternity here in my human body, I’d build immersive, whimsical, amusement-park-inspired experiences for grown-ups. I’ve never felt particularly comfortable around kids (and don’t have my own), but I do believe adults could use a lot more childlike wonder in their lives. Permission to be silly, adventurous, and unfiltered again.
I’d love to curate elaborate spaces where people could reconnect with that part of themselves — places filled with art, play, curiosity, good food, glitter, unicorns, and maybe a few surprises around every corner. They’d be part playground, part art installation, part soul-reboot.
Of course, in this fantasy version of eternity, someone else would handle all the paperwork and logistics! I’d just be there to dream up and build the “imaginarium” of wonder worlds that live in my mind.
In many ways, my art gallery Togetherland might have been the first iteration of this idea — a seed planted in the real world. It was a place where creativity, play, and community came together in unexpected ways. Maybe this vision is simply the next evolution of that dream. Who knows — perhaps someone reading this will want to collaborate and help me unearth the next soul-inspired Disney World for grown-ups!
Contact Info:
- Website: https://kristenherringtonart.com/
- Instagram: @kristenherrington.art
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kristen-herrington-2862939b/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@mikeandkristen
Image Credits
Image ONE (headshot): Meghan Tansey Whitton
Image 2-7 (additional photos): Candice Moore
