Navigating the Creative Chaos | My Journey as a Multidisciplinary Artist

Let me start with this: I never planned to be a multidisciplinary artist. I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “You know what? I want to juggle painting, textile art, digital design, photography, sculpture, writing, AND make my own blog.” It just… happened. One medium led to another. One idea grew into a different shape. And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to choose just one form of expression and started embracing them all. Because truth be told, I couldn’t choose. I was never supposed to.

There are days when I paint, days when I sculpt, and days when I get lost in the lines of digital surrealism. And on some days… I do it all.

I’ve never been the kind of artist who fits neatly into a box. I tried. Believe me. I’ve had phases where I told myself: “I’ll just focus on portraiture.” Or, “Let’s stick to florals, people love florals.” But that never lasts long.

My journey began in my childhood in Romania, during the communist era. I studied at an art school where the curriculum included a rich variety of disciplines—from decorative arts and painting to sculpture, calligraphy, drawing perspective, and more. Some of these I was quite good at; others, honestly, I was terrible. But I loved them all.

The materials we needed were often unavailable in stores, and even when we managed to find them, we didn’t always have the money to buy them. Still, I made do with what I had, creating art out of scraps, improvising, and learning to value the process over the result.

Later, I chose a different professional path—I studied Computer Science and Business Management. But the diverse forms of art I had once explored continued to pull me in. They became my refuge from the logical, dry structure of daily life. Art was my way to feel again—to reconnect with imagination, play, beauty, and expression.

Words can only do so much. Here’s a glimpse into my world in motion, me as a multidisciplinary artist painting live, with no filters, no edits – just brush, canvas, and intuition. This is what it looks like to create without a script.

Watch the full process below and feel the energy of handmade art unfold.

What I love about working across disciplines is that it breaks the rules. I might start with a watercolor background, add a digital overlay, photograph the result, then transfer it to a tote bag or a T-shirt. I might write a poem and realize it wants to become a painting. Or I might paint something and discover it belongs in a stop-motion video with recycled puppets.

Some days I sculpt. Other days I code. Some nights I just sit in front of a blank canvas and do nothing, waiting for the spark to land. And you know what? It always does. Because creativity isn’t linear. It’s a beautiful mess. And the mess is where I live.

Let’s be honest. It’s not all sunshine and inspiration. There are moments—many, actually—when I’ve felt like a fraud. Like I’m not “real” enough in any medium because I don’t specialize. I’ve heard the whispers: “You need a niche,” “People won’t take you seriously,” “You’ll never grow an audience if you’re doing too many things.”

But over time, I realized something. My niche is the way I mix things. The way I follow ideas wherever they lead. The way I see the connection between an old cracked teacup, a line of poetry, and a piece of silk. My strength isn’t in choosing a lane—it’s in building a road that didn’t exist before.

Being a multidisciplinary artist is like hosting a dinner party with guests from wildly different backgrounds. You never know who will click. Sometimes a random pairing leads to pure magic. Mixing analog and digital, traditional and absurd, rustic and neon—those are the moments that make me feel most alive.

The freedom to flow between styles and mediums means I never get bored. Each project teaches me something new. And best of all? It all feeds back into itself. A clay sculpture teaches me something about shadow. A podcast inspires a visual series. An old painting becomes a printed design.

The internet, thankfully, has made space for people like me. Platforms like Zazzle, Artmajeur Pictorem, Displate , Teepublic and even my own site, Nisuris Creativa, allow me to share all of me. Not just one neat category.That’s what this website is about. A place to explore the tangled, surprising path of creativity. A place where “jack-of-all-trades” is not an insult, but a celebration. Where your art doesn’t have to fit in a box to be valid. Where you’re allowed to be too much and not enough at the same time as a multidisciplinary artist.

There’s something else I rarely talk about, but it matters: the name I sign my work with. As a multidisciplinary artist sometimes I sign it Nisuris, other times Nisuris Art, and sometimes I use my actual name, Sonia Chivarar. And to be honest, that inconsistency used to bother me.

But here’s the truth: the name closest to my heart has always been Nisuris.

It’s a word I invented as a child, long before I had access to technology or knew what a brand was. It came from my imagination—a soft, strange, powerful word that felt like home. Over the years, it became more than a name. It became a metaphor for my entire existence. It carries the chaos, the poetry, the layers of who I am.

So even when my signature shifts depending on the platform, the project, or the audience, the essence remains the same: I am Nisuris. Every brushstroke, every texture, every odd little idea has that name written between the lines.

And maybe that’s the beauty of not choosing just one identity: you get to live all of them.

There is this quiet, heavy pressure that every artist today feels: you must be visible. You must post consistently. You must know the latest algorithms, the trending audio, the optimal posting time, the perfect hashtags. You must become not only a creator, but a marketer, videographer, copywriter, SEO expert, and graphic designer.

And if you’re not doing it “right,” your art gets buried—regardless of how deep, how honest, or how skillfully made it is.

As a multidisciplinary artist, I feel this pressure tenfold. Each medium I explore requires its own story, its own angle, its own curated moment to be packaged for a post. And then comes the editing, the caption writing, the scheduling, the #hashtag avalanche.

Meanwhile, the platforms are flooded with AI-generated art that is fast, flawless, and everywhere. It becomes harder and harder to distinguish between handmade work born from quiet, messy moments… and perfectly styled, machine-crafted visuals. We scroll past both without even breathing.

But what happens to the artists who don’t want to show up? Who don’t want to film every brushstroke or paint with one hand while recording with the other? What happens to those who want to create in silence, in slowness who want to breathe art, not broadcast it?

Why are we expected to explain everything we create? Art is not a product pitch. It is not an algorithm-friendly formula. Art is felt. It is lived. Whether it’s made from code, clay, light, or love, it deserves to exist beyond the feed.

As a multidisciplinary artist, I often feel torn: to share or to protect? To grow or to retreat? To be visible or to be whole? I don’t have all the answers but I know this: the real art doesn’t happen in hashtags. It happens in the quiet.

And I choose, again and again, to return to that quiet.

If you, too, are overwhelmed with ideas, mediums, styles, and “what should I do next?” moments… welcome. You’re not alone. This space is for you. For the restless spirits, the creative wanderers, the people who don’t fit neatly on one Instagram hashtag.

You don’t have to choose. You just have to keep making.

Because art isn’t about limitation. It’s about liberation.

And chaos? Sometimes it’s the most beautiful place to begin as a multidisciplinary artist.

Sonia