I have exciting news! I was asked to write an article for State College Magazine and it was published this month (August 2026). Can you believe it? I can’t!
To say 2026 has been a good year is an understatement, it has exceeded my wildest expectations. I had 9 floral paintings on display at the Bellefonte Art Museum in March; I have a piece of art currently hanging (through 11/29/26) in the Dreaming American Futures: Invitational 250 exhibit at The Palmer Museum of Art (Penn State’s art museum); and I’ve had a piece of writing published. We’ve also celebrated the birth of our 1st grandchild and the wedding of our middle son. It’s been an incredible year!
I love to read, and I’ve dreamed of reading my own words in print since I was in medical school, where involvement in scientific research offered a pathway, in my mid-twenties, to publication in a medical journal. That didn’t happen. 61-year-old me can look back and clearly see why that was never meant to be my path. I was not cut out to be a researcher, I loved patient care too much, and our 3 children, and our home, and our travels, and the very full, beautiful life we created as a family. If I had the chance to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing (except maybe the curly perm in high school!)
I’m A-ok with the 35+ year wait, delayed gratification and I go way back, also to my time in medical school. Transplanting the seed of my “get published” dream into more fertile, creative soil, has given me the opportunity to nourish it from fragile sprout to vibrant bloom. It’s been more than worth the wait! If you read the article, you’ll understand my growing belief that no experience is ever wasted and that a dream deferred is just that, deferred, not denied.
I’m surprised by the readership this local magazine receives, the article has been read by friends, neighbors, and complete strangers who’ve reached out, asking to have coffee, to exchange studio visits, and to purchase art. Wow, wow, and wow! This year has reinforced the incredible power of saying “yes,” of believing in yourself just enough to listen to and trust your friends when they implore, “you can and should do this.”
Because I’m still pinching myself, unsure it’s all real, I’ve included 3 ways to see the article: a photograph of the magazine article (featured image, above); a link to the article on the magazine’s website here; and a full-length copy of the article (below). Phew! Disbelief leads a person like me to verify in triplicate 🙂
Happy August and thanks for reading. Now tell me, what have you been dreaming? I’d love to be the friend who encourages you to say, “yes!”
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August 01, 2026 / State College Magazine
Forty years ago, having just completed my bachelor’s degree in biology at Penn State, I entered the first-year class at Harvard Medical School. After a career in medicine, predominantly spent in the emergency department, I retired to a blank canvas of possibility, which I began to fill with paint. I now identify as an artist, at times scarcely remembering the physician I once was.
Occasionally I wonder, was I ever truly meant to be a doctor? What if those initials behind my name had been MFA instead of MD? Rather than regret creative years lost, I’ve chosen to embrace a value-added mindset, to celebrate the connections between my past medical practice and my current art practice. What if my career in medicine was the perfect segue to my post-doc in painting? I’ve come to believe no experience in life is ever wasted.
In medicine, each patient presented a complex clinical puzzle, with significant overlays of emotion, personal history, and socioeconomic factors. Though scientific algorithms were useful for many diagnoses, I was often called upon to adapt treatment solutions creatively to best meet my patient’s holistic needs. Art is creative problem-solving and, knowingly or not, all artists use the scientific method in their work. We pose questions, design experiments, test hypotheses, analyze results, and draw conclusions. I love the puzzling that is at the core of both, and I celebrate that there is as much science in my life as an artist as there was art in my life as a physician.
Both medicine and art are extremely tactile. As a timid medical student, I was afraid to perform a physical exam. Yet I learned quickly how imperative it was, both to solving a diagnostic puzzle and to building trust with a patient. I learned much more by moving my hands through a thorough physical exam than I ever did from ordering and reviewing a panel of labs.
My art practice is the same.
I never find the answers to my creative questions by thinking. Solutions present themselves to me only through the physicality of doing, of moving my hands, of examining my materials. As AI makes inroads into the creation of art, and medicine becomes increasingly dependent on technological tools, I’m concerned we’re losing touch with the heart and soul of both.
My time in the emergency department required me to be bold, to incise abscesses and suture lacerations. It was my utmost privilege to open each exam room door bravely, walk inside, meet someone for the first time, and ask, “How can I help?
Painting also requires me to be bold, to make big brush marks, never sure if they will move the piece forward or move it to the rubbish bin. It’s the confidence gained as a physician that allows me the freedom to create art fearlessly.
“It’s only paint,” I say to myself. “It’s only canvas. Nothing bad is going to happen!”
You see, no experience is ever wasted!
Contributed by the Bellefonte Art Museum for Centre County, 133 N. Allegheny St., Bellefonte 16823.
Melissa Stephens Art 
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