On the Edge of Reinvention: Leaving Corporate Life for Clay, Cloth, and Creativity

For the past decade, I’ve lived a life that made sense on paper. I built a steady career in the corporate world here in Newfoundland—colleagues, benefits, a reliable routine, and that comforting illusion of certainty. But lately, something has been shifting. Quietly at first, like a whisper I could ignore. Then louder, like a call I couldn’t silence.

That call is art.

Not just art, but making things—with my hands, my eyes, my heart. Pottery, clothing design, painting. The kind of creating that doesn't ask for perfection, only presence. I’ve always dabbled, stolen moments between work deadlines and daily obligations. But lately, I’ve started asking myself a question I can’t ignore: What if this—this creative pull—isn’t just a hobby, but who I really am?

The Tug Toward Change

It’s hard to admit when something no longer fits—even harder when that “something” has shaped your identity. My job has given me a sense of stability. It’s helped me grow. But in that growth, I’ve also realized I’ve been shrinking myself to fit into roles that no longer reflect who I’ve become.

So here I am, standing at the edge of a big decision: I’m preparing to leave my corporate job and move from Newfoundland to New Brunswick to start over as a full-time artist.

Even just typing that feels surreal.

Why New Brunswick?

There’s something about New Brunswick that feels like a clean slate. Its slower pace, its wild natural beauty, the creative communities scattered across small towns and coastal villages—it calls to me. I imagine a little studio space with clay dust on the floor, clotheslines full of dyed linen, and time to paint just because the light is beautiful.

I want to make things that are slow, intentional, and honest. Pottery that feels good in your hands. Clothing that moves with your body and tells a story. Art that isn’t about productivity or profit, but about emotion and aliveness.

Sitting With the Unknown

Am I scared? Absolutely. Leaving a steady paycheck in exchange for a completely uncertain path is terrifying. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know exactly how I’ll make it work. But I know this: staying where I am, out of fear, would be a much bigger risk.

Right now, I’m in the in-between—sorting through my belongings, saying quiet goodbyes, and imagining the life I’m about to build. It’s disorienting, exciting, and deeply human. This chapter isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about trusting that my instincts are worth following—and that the life I’ve been yearning for is possible.

A New Beginning on the Horizon

This isn’t just a move or a career change. It’s a commitment to live more authentically. To make space for beauty, slowness, and imperfection. To finally give art the place it’s been quietly waiting for all along.

If you’re reading this and feel your own version of that whisper, that creative nudge—maybe it’s not art, maybe it’s writing, or farming, or opening a small café—I hope you know you’re not alone. Change is never easy, but neither is living a life that doesn’t light you up.

I haven’t left yet. But I’m getting close. The boxes are stacking up. The studio plans are forming. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m heading home—even if I’ve never lived there before.

Stay With Me Through the Leap:
Instagram: @mavoureendesign
Newsletter Sign-Up: Mavoureen.ca
Move Updates + Studio Progress Coming Soon

Here’s to standing at the edge—and choosing to jump anyway