Hi, I’m Norah Pearson.
I’ve always painted people. It might’ve been my first ever job, before I was even technically old enough to have one. But it wasn’t until much later that I realised what those paintings actually meant to the people I made them for…
You see, I’m not the most emotionally expressive person. I’m not the type to send long heartfelt messages or remember every birthday. There was a stretch of time when I was so caught up in work and life that I barely spoke to anyone socially for years. And yet, the people who stayed in my life—who kept checking in—were often the ones I’d gifted a painting to at some point.
Years later, it clicked: those paintings had done the talking for me. They were quiet, lasting reminders that I cared deeply, even if I didn’t always show it in the usual ways. (And honestly, I sometimes wonder if I’d even have the friends I do if it weren’t for those paintings!)
After having that realisation, painting started creeping up my creative priority list. What used to be a fun side project or a gift for a friend started to feel…less like an elaborate magic trick, and more like the main thing. The more I leaned into it, the more I noticed how much portraits can mean—not just to me, but to the people receiving them.
At the same time, I kept noticing how portraits continue to hold meaning, even when relationships get messy. Families falling out over wills, but still treasuring the one family portrait hanging on the wall. Parents and kids barely speaking, yet both holding on to that framed photo from better days. Even in the mess, the picture stays.
But portraits aren’t just for the hard times. They’re just as meaningful when things are good—giving you a chance to celebrate your family right now. Hanging a portrait somewhere you see every day is a simple way to show how much you love looking at them and how much they mean to you.
That kind of connection feels even more important these days. Because, let’s be honest, our digital world doesn’t exactly make connection easier. Swiping for dates, liking things you don’t really like, applying for jobs and getting rejected by robots instead of real people—It can all start to feel a bit hollow. Relationships, even close ones, can start to feel transactional.
Because of all the little things I was noticing over time, portraiture started to feel… significant. Especially painted portraits. They’re not quick or convenient. They take time, care, and a ridiculous amount of squinting at tiny details. But maybe that’s the point. A painted portrait says: I see you. I’ve taken the time. I’ve noticed the little things. It’s a way of showing someone they matter—without necessarily saying a word.
Later, I began blending photography with painting—mostly because I kept thinking: if everyone puts family photos on the wall, why not take them a step further? Keep the memories, keep the moment, but deepen the meaning, style, and storytelling with the painterly touch.
These days, it’s not just my voice my portraits carry—it’s yours too, if you want it to be. Even if I’m the one painting, people can feel the thought behind it. Whether you’re giving it as a gift or hanging it in your own home, the care and intention comes through—and that part’s all yours!