Disha Sharma on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We recently had the chance to connect with Disha Sharma and have shared our conversation below.

Good morning Disha, we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: Who are you learning from right now?
Right now, I’m learning from my a mix of people and my experiences. I’m always inspired by fellow artists—especially those who balance their creative practice with teaching and storytelling. Lately, I’ve been paying attention to illustrators and designers working in packaging and editorial spaces, trying to understand how they bring depth and character into commercial work while staying true to their voice.

I also learn a lot from my students. Teaching watercolor regularly—whether it’s beginners picking up a brush for the first time or artists exploring realism—constantly reminds me how powerful curiosity and experimentation are. It keeps me grounded and evolving.

And beyond people, I’m learning from the natural world. The way light hits a summer berry, or how colors shift in an autumn leaf—that kind of quiet observation teaches me more than any textbook.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Disha Sharma — I’m an artist, illustrator, and educator specializing in food, botanical, and lifestyle illustration with a realistic and inviting style. I work primarily in traditional media like watercolor and colored pencils, and also create digital work in Procreate. My illustrations are detail-rich and emotionally resonant, often used in packaging, editorial, branding, and advertising projects.

I help bring stories to life — whether it’s the freshness of seasonal produce for a cookbook, the handcrafted feel of an artisanal food brand, or the cozy aesthetic of a lifestyle feature. My background in teaching also adds a layer of thoughtfulness and clarity to my creative process — I approach every project with intention, collaboration, and care.

Currently, I’m working with a mix of clients while also expanding my portfolio in packaging and editorial illustration. I’m especially drawn to projects that celebrate food, nature, and everyday beauty in a meaningful, visually compelling way.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
As a child, I believed that if I was truly good at something, it would come naturally and effortlessly. I thought that talent meant things should feel easy — like you either “had it” or you didn’t. And if I struggled with something, especially creatively, I assumed it meant I wasn’t meant to do it. So, if something didn’t turn out the way I imagined, I would quietly give up on it, thinking maybe I just wasn’t the kind of person who could do that kind of work.

Looking back, I realize how limiting that belief was. It took me a long time — well into adulthood — to understand that the creative process is rarely linear or effortless. It’s messy, emotional, and full of uncertainty. What I didn’t understand as a child is that struggle is not a sign of failure; it’s often a sign of growth. The skills I value most today — patience, curiosity, resilience — were all things I had to learn over time by staying with the process, even when it was uncomfortable.

Now I believe that creativity is more about showing up than it is about being naturally gifted. It’s about allowing yourself to be a beginner, to make imperfect things, and to keep going anyway. And that belief has been incredibly freeing — for myself and for the people I teach. I try to carry that reminder into my work every day: that growth takes time, that effort matters, and that the most beautiful things often come from simply not giving up.

Is there something you miss that no one else knows about?
Something I sometimes miss — and don’t often say out loud — is the time when I could fully immerse myself in the creative process without thinking about the outcome. When I painted or drew just for the pure joy of it, without worrying about whether it would become a finished piece or how it would fit into my professional work. I miss that playful, curiosity-driven mindset.

That said, I truly love the work I do now. Turning my passion into a career has brought incredible opportunities to connect with clients and students, and to create with intention and purpose. But I also try to carve out moments to return to that freer, more experimental space — because that original joy is what fuels everything I create.

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. Where are smart people getting it totally wrong today?
I think one place some people often miss the mark today is by rushing through creativity and the natural world, trying to control or speed up processes that actually require patience and presence. In art, nature, and life, things unfold in their own time — a brushstroke needs space to dry, a plant needs seasons to grow, and inspiration often comes when we slow down enough to notice.

There’s a tendency to prioritize instant results or visible productivity, but some of the most beautiful and meaningful moments happen in the quiet pauses, the subtle shifts, and the patient observation. When we try to rush or over-engineer creativity, we risk missing the richness and depth that come from really being present with the process.

I believe there’s a lot to learn from how nature works — its rhythms, cycles, and imperfections — and how art can mirror that. Honoring those natural rhythms can open the door to more authentic, soulful work.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. When do you feel most at peace?
I feel most at peace when my day goes as planned and I can look back feeling accomplished and fulfilled. Whether it’s completing a painting, making progress on a project, or connecting meaningfully with others, that sense of purpose and flow brings a quiet calm.

I also find peace when I’m immersed in the creative process itself—painting, sketching, or simply playing with color—losing track of time and fully present in the moment.

Nature and family are important parts of that peace too. Quiet moments outside, noticing small details in flowers or trees, and sharing simple, joyful times, cooking and travel with my family all ground me and remind me what truly matters.

For me, peace is a balance of meaningful work, presence in creativity and nature, and connection with loved ones.

Image Credits
Polara Studio for Clear Creek Photography