The 2026 Year of the Horse Calendar Is Finally Complete

The 2026 Year of the Horse Calendar Is Finally Complete

My 2026 “Year of the Horse” calendar is finally finished.
This year’s work felt slower, heavier, and more demanding than usual, but when I placed the very last image into its spot, everything quietly clicked into place. Completing a twelve-painting calendar is never just a project for me—it is a journal, a ritual, and a way of closing one chapter while preparing for the next.
This year’s theme was the horse.

At first, I chose it simply because horses are elegant, powerful creatures. But as I painted, I began to understand their deeper energy—the steady, silent drive that pushes them forward, the dignity in their stillness, and the strength they carry without ever needing to display it. I tried to hold that quiet power in each piece, painting not just the body of the horse but its breath, rhythm, and presence.
The process was not easy.

My health wasn’t perfect this year, and there were many days when lifting a brush for more than a few minutes felt overwhelming. At times I wondered if I should skip the calendar this year. But every time I sat back down and faced the shape of a horse, something inside me softened. Painting the calm, unwavering gaze of a horse grounded me. It whispered, “Just a little more. Keep going.”

And I did.
So this calendar is not simply a collection of twelve images.
It is twelve small acts of endurance, recovery, and quiet encouragement—twelve reminders that I kept going even when it felt difficult. In many ways, it has become my most honest portfolio, capturing not only my artistic growth but the emotional landscape of my year.
This project also made me ask myself some deeper questions:
Why do I keep painting?
What do I hope to leave behind as an artist?
What do I want my students, my children, and my community to see in my work?
The answer turned out to be simple.
I paint because I love it.
I record because it matters.
And if my work offers even one moment of comfort or inspiration to someone else, then it is enough.
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Laying the completed pages out on my table, I felt a quiet shift--
the year truly ending,
and another one waiting patiently at the door.
To everyone who receives this calendar, I hope the gentle strength of the horse accompanies you throughout 2026.
May its steady energy help you move forward in your own way, even on the days that feel heavy.
And to anyone reading this, I hope it reminds you that small, consistent acts of creation can become something meaningful—both for yourself and for the people who encounter your work.