artist Stephanie Decker

More than the aesthetic of Stephanie Decker’s artwork Within Her (below), it was the way it moved—fluid, sensual, alive, sashaying down the screen like a tangerine-clad belly dancer-that caught my attention. The central subject is a woman’s face, encircled by foliage and turquoise reverberations of rhythmic soundscapes. In those pulsing patterns, I saw an echo of the feminine: soft jowls, lips, flowing hair.

Woman. In all her glory.

I clicked through to @stephdeckart’s profile. It was immediately clear that the artist shares her story openly. What’s less obvious—unless you really look—is the deep transformation she’s undergone over the past five years. A quiet, tenacious unfolding. No small feat, especially when Steph paints when time allows, not as profession, but as devotion. Still, when she does find the opportunity to paint, it is with equal attention to authenticity, play, and technical growth.

Pinned to the top of her feed were three scenes: a woman alone in a bath, alone in bed, alone in the sun (Did I say alone?) These moments are rare treasures for me right now, deep into the rich, chaotic tapestry of mid-life with a family. Mine is a beautiful life, but full. So full.

Still, the red string of fate found me, reaching across oceans—from Portland, Oregon to here in Australia. In Stephanie’s work, I didn’t just see a woman. I saw her. A real, raw, reverent expression of life itself.

Stephanie; “When I post my work I always feel like I’m laying my heart and soul bare to be judged and seen… which is super scary.”

We all feel this way, don’t we? Even the most polished artist or zen-like soul hears that little voice whisper, ‘Who the hell do you think YOU are?’ whenever we share vulnerably.

The only real question is whether—or when—to listen.

Me; “The story in your work feels like one of transformation. Like you’re peeling back layers of yourself—quietly, in familiar places. The bath, the bed, the sun. It feels like self-meeting-self, in slow, sacred moments.”

Stephanie; “I think you’ve named what I couldn’t. I’ve always been drawn to the strength of women and what they endure. My mother was a single mother who went through a lot… there’s a lot of strong women in my family. I painted Within Her during a time when I was coming into calm and strength, after a season of chaos… the pressure is real.”

“…I never go into a painting wanting to paint what I feel. I never name the feeling. I just paint. It’s only afterward I sit back and say, I didn’t know where that was going, but that is exactly how I feel—and I needed to get that out of my body and onto the canvas.”

I get it. That’s how I am with my writing. Half the time my poems make no sense to anyone else, but to me? They feel like a gargantuan exhale.

Stephanie; “Painting for me is the one place I feel free. Hours go by and I don’t notice. The larger narrative is self-reflection, my escape, and giving myself space to feel—and to create something that is truly mine. A space where no one depends on me. The transformation and self-reflection that you called out, that I would never have named, is a very real theme in my life.”

As a woman still trying to loosen the grip of post-modern ideals, I get what Stephanie means. One foot planted in the “devoted wife and mother” camp (= only way to love), the other in the “women can do it all” camp (= only means of success). Both beliefs exhausting. Both unrelenting. Even the wish that no one depended on me for just a moment can spin me into a guilt spiral sometimes.

So, when Stephanie says; “…you have this unapologetic, badass, female boss vibe, mixed with confident sensuality and body positivity which I love seeing and supporting in other women, that has always resonated with me.”

I flinch, ready to reject the compliment.

Who me? I’m no unapologetic badass female boss…

And yet, when I told Stephanie her work speaks of transformation, she didn’t recoil. She didn’t deflect. She simply paused, received the reflection, and replied;

“It’s incredible to be seen so deeply, and from so far away… AND digitally.”

So, I will simply say;

‘Right back at you, Steph.’

Written by Monique Di Russo May 2025