Today we’d like to introduce you to Klarissa Young.
Hi Klarissa, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
Drawing started as instinct, as play, but over time it became something deeper. A way to process my emotions, to stay connected to myself, to make sense of what I was feeling when words fell short.
I studied art formally, but so much of my growth came from trusting my own strange, quiet voice. I was drawn to the feminine form, to softness, to the stillness in vulnerability. For a long time, I wasn’t sure if anyone else would connect with that—but I kept going. I kept drawing.
A major turning point came when I joined the Riverside Arts Market. It was my first time putting my art in front of strangers in a public space. I was nervous—showing tender, nude drawings in the open felt like showing parts of my soul. But it changed everything.
Selling prints at the market helped me find my audience. People stopped, looked, and saw themselves in my work. They told me it made them feel something. That it felt soft, strong, familiar. Slowly but surely, my following began to grow—not just online, but in real life, through conversations, eye contact, and shared emotion.
Now, I create with that same spirit—still emotional, still tender, but with more trust. My art is an offering, and I’m proud of the community it continues to reach. The more I realized there were others who felt seen by it. That’s when everything shifted. Now, I create with more intention, more trust, and a deeper understanding of why I do what I do. My art is an offering—and somehow, that offering keeps circling back with love.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. One of the biggest challenges was finding my audience. For a long time, I felt like I was creating in the dark—unsure if there was space in the art world for what I do. My work is deeply personal and often features nude women in quiet, emotional moments, which can be considered “too much” or “overly sexual” depending on who’s looking. I feared my work would be misunderstood.
It took courage to start showing my art publicly—especially because it’s vulnerable, intimate, and, let’s be honest, a little weird. There were moments I questioned whether people would understand it or just dismiss it. But I decided to embrace that challenge and trust the vision anyway.
Eventually, my audience did find me—and they showed up with open hearts. Hearing from people who saw themselves in my work, who felt moved or affirmed by it, reminded me that there’s power in creating honestly. The journey hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been worth it. Every moment of doubt led to deeper clarity about what I stand for and who I’m creating for.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I’m an artist and illustrator who specializes in delicate, figure-based drawings of women—often nude, often Black, and always tender. My work lives in that quiet space between vulnerability and strength, using soft line work and a muted pink palette to honor the feminine form with grace and intention. I primarily work in digital, pencil and watercolor, choosing minimalism not for simplicity’s sake, but to let emotion lead the way.
I’m best known for creating images that make women feel seen. There’s a subtle power in softness, and I think that’s what sets my work apart. I don’t aim to shock or overwhelm—I aim to whisper, to hold space, to create stillness.
One of the things I’m most proud of is my upcoming illustrated book Everything She Touched, a poetic and visual exploration of longing, transformation, and discovering one’s own magic. It feels like a culmination of all the things I love—gentle storytelling, feminine energy, and quiet beauty.
What were you like growing up?
Growing up, I was the awkward artsy type—but not in the cool, mysterious way. I never really felt seen or understood. And when I was seen, it was often just to be picked apart, made fun of, or misunderstood. So I learned early on to stay quiet and out of the way. If they couldn’t see me, they couldn’t hurt me.
I had a hard time being my real self. Every time I let my guard down—when I was playful or emotional or just genuinely me—it felt like there were consequences. I didn’t have a solid friend group. I didn’t feel safe being open. So I shrank myself to survive.
To sum it up: I was quiet. Tender. And regrettably vulnerable.
But even then, art was always there. A secret world where I could be as strange and sensitive as I wanted. Where softness wasn’t a weakness—it was a language. Looking back, I think that lonely, sensitive kid paved the way for the artist I’ve become.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://studioklarissa.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/studio.klarissa?igsh=MTZod3F1bzE5azA1cQ%3D%3D&utm_source=qr
- Twitter: https://x.com/sirenita_xo?s=21
