We recently had the chance to connect with Jen Way and have shared our conversation below.
Jen, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: Are you walking a path—or wandering?
I’ve never been much of a straight-line person. My life feels more like wayfinding than walking a path. I’m always listening for the next breadcrumb, the next shift in light, the next quiet nudge that tells me, “Here… look here.” I wander, yes — but not lost. I think of it as wandering with intention, because I’m not doing it for myself, nor am I alone. There are so many of us who are seeking, trying to make sense of our seasons, trying to find the thread that connects where we’ve been, where we are, and whatever is trying to emerge. My work is simply the way I hold up a little lantern so people can see they’re not walking alone.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m an artist, a writer, and someone who builds experiences around beauty, faith, and nature. After a profound loss, I returned to rebuild my life in northern Michigan, where the full rhythm of all four seasons shapes me. Winter’s stillness, spring’s tenderness, summer’s abundance, fall’s letting go — each one teaches me something about how to live. I make abstract paintings, poetry, and multisensory collections that help people mark their own transformations. My work sits at this strange intersection of art and theology — I didn’t plan that. I just began noticing that creating wasn’t separate from my faith life; it was my faith life. Painting became a form of prayer, a way of co-creating with God, a way of listening with my hands when my words failed.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What’s a moment that really shaped how you see the world?
I don’t know if it was a specific moment exactly, but I began to understand my grief as a sort of genesis. I slowly began to realize that art wasn’t just something I made — it was a way of seeing. A way of participating in something sacred. Once I understood that, the world sharpened. Light meant something. Color meant something. Seasons became metaphors for the inner landscape. Suddenly everything had language.
As I started expressing that, I started having experiences with others that I could not explain. They could feel the energy in my work. They could interpret my work through their own filters of experience. The power and awe of that experience fostered a profound sense of intimacy that I will chase for the rest of my life.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me how to honor process — the part we rush through, the part that feels unbearable, the part that changes us in ways success never could. It demanded I find ways to mark what mattered, to create something tangible so I wouldn’t forget what the moment taught me. There are many hidden gifts in those uncomfortable seasons. I think that’s why art feels so important to me. Every piece becomes a kind of memorial or milestone, not just for me but for the person who eventually finds it. A visceral reminder of a season in their own life.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
The project I’m committed to — however long it takes — is this ongoing exploration of the visual language inside me. These marks, these colors, these rhythms that feel like the truest expression of who I am. I’m endlessly fascinated by how a streak of blue or a faint line can hold an entire emotion. I’m learning how to speak fluently in that language, how to let it keep evolving without trying to control it. And the joy that comes from sharing that with someone else who so very clearly relates…there’s nothing like it!
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What do you understand deeply that most people don’t?
Maybe what I understand — or what I sense — is that my job isn’t to map the path for anyone. It’s simply to follow my own breadcrumbs with honesty. When I do that, people who are doing their own inner work seem to find me. They recognize themselves long before they recognize me. They’ll look at a painting or read a line of poetry and say, “Yes… that’s my season too.”
That recognition is the real work.
Nature taught me that. It keeps me grounded in the truth that nothing is wasted — everything is becoming. What falls becomes foundation. What pauses gathers strength. Bloom arrives in its time, fruit in its season, release when it’s ready. Watching that cycle unfold restores my sense of order and reminds me how transformation really works.
So yes, I wander. But it’s a wandering anchored in faith — tracing light, tracing color, listening for the quiet signals that say: pay attention here. My work lives in that tender space, not to provide answers, but to help illuminate the path we’re all already walking.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.wayofjen.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/wayofjen
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@wayofjen
Image Credits
Kris Tobin Balasz
