Liz Foulks of NYC on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We recently had the chance to connect with Liz Foulks and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Liz, thank you so much for joining us today. We’re thrilled to learn more about your journey, values and what you are currently working on. Let’s start with an ice breaker: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
Painting is really the only way I’m able to reset my entire system and lose track of time. My brain quiets, perhaps in response to focusing on in-the-moment tasks, like color matching, buffing in texture, and plotting in the fine details, all of which ask for full presence. Hours slip by without me realizing, and I always resurface lighter. My health ring – a latest fixation – even signals that my stress levels bottom out and I am physiologically restored every time I have a painting session, so maybe there’s some science behind it all.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m a painter, flutist, and graphic designer based in New York City. My life revolves around creating atmospheres that engage the senses, and I find joy in making something tangible out of nothing. As a painter, I show my work in galleries across the city, sell pieces through exhibitions and commissions, and stay grounded by working on personal snapshots of my life – lately landscapes from my favorite cities, especially Japan.

My original works are primarily figurative, blending abstract moments with anchors of corporeal realism. I like to play with the eye and evoke emotion. As a flutist, I pursue a similar goal through sound, crafting moods and atmospheres in performance. I’ve released a few experimental flute-beat collaboration albums, performed in NYC, and recently combined my painting and flute practice in a performance for my solo show this past April, Fleeting Ties.

All the while, I work full time as a Creative Director leading a small design team. These three creative outlets – visual, musical, and digital – feed each other, and I feel lucky to have ways to keep my brain fully engaged and inspired.

Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
As a kid, I thought I was too sensitive for this world (and maybe, sometimes, I am). I picked up on every emotion in the room and carried it around with me, which at the time felt like a weakness. I really believed it would hold me back somehow. But as I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that sensitivity is 100% a strength – it’s what allows me to connect deeply, create, and empathize. And I’ve discovered I’m a lot more resilient than I gave myself credit for.

That same sensitivity is what fuels my art – it’s how I notice the smallest shifts in color, light, or emotion and translate them into something you can feel. It’s what lets me feel music so fully that it becomes a language of its own. Being sensitive doesn’t equate to fragility.

When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I think there’s some truth to the idea that pain sparks real art – the notion of the ‘troubled artist’ isn’t entirely a myth. From my experience, my hardest times are often when I feel the strongest drive to pour myself into my work. 2020 and 2021 were challenging years, as they were for many, and I faced a few significant, personal obstacles. But those years also became a turning point: I dove face-first into my craft, pushed myself as an artist, and even started playing the flute again after years away.

Without my art, that time would have felt insurmountable. Instead, I was able to transform difficult experiences into good ones – I got accepted into my first solo show, began creating art for others, and, most importantly, started making art for myself again.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What’s a belief you used to hold tightly but now think was naive or wrong?
I used to believe that some things were just not for me. But the truth is: they only aren’t if you convince yourself they aren’t. A tangible example from this year: I always told myself I was physically weak and that I would never be into exercise. Yet, at the start of the year, I casually thought, ‘I’m going to start strength training and see where it takes me.’ I’ve been consistent since January, and it turns out – it is for me.

I feel stronger, both mentally and physically. I have more core stability, which helps me produce fuller, more robust sounds on the flute, better posture when I paint, more endurance for long sessions at the easel, and even steadier wrists for fine detail work. A lot of my art focuses on anatomy, so understanding different muscle groups has informed my work as well – a surprise bonus.

Discipline and showing up consistently foster results. Life is about taking leaps, taking risks, and just doing it – without letting naive ideas hold you back. This is something I have to remind myself each day, since it doesn’t come naturally to me and I generally hate taking risks.

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. Could you give everything your best, even if no one ever praised you for it?
Tough question! Admittedly, as a Leo, I love praise. But even without it, I’d still give my all, because creating something I’m proud of is a reward in itself. Some of my projects are entirely for me, without sharing or seeking recognition, and those are often where I learn the most as an artist and musician. Real growth happens when you play and experiment. It’s about making work you can own and that truly feels like you.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.lizfoulks.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lizfoulks_art
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lizsaco/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@lizfoulks
• Other: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/4s3hwqdOIrP9qp2veU84f8?si=7mWiATJ7Qry7IafW5rji3w

Image Credits
Hideki Aono