Lisa Congdon: The Art of Taking Up Space
On a warm Portland afternoon, Lisa Congdon sits cross-legged in her studio, sunlight pouring over a desk cluttered with brushes, paint, and an open sketchbook. There’s a calm here — a spaciousness she’s fought hard to create — punctuated by the bright geometry of her own artwork hanging on the walls. “I’ve always been intentional about my work,” she says, “but the truth is, my career started completely by accident.”

If you know Congdon today — internationally celebrated artist, illustrator, author, activist — it’s hard to picture anything about her trajectory as accidental. Her bold color palettes, crisp hand-lettering, and unapologetic messaging have graced everything from fine art galleries to the pages of Chronicle Books, from the Instagram feeds of millions to protest posters held aloft in the streets. Yet her path wasn’t a straight line — more like the intersecting circles of a Venn diagram she often uses to describe her life: a breakup, the DIY movement, the dawn of the internet, and the discovery of her own creative spark.

I was working in education, going home every night, taking care of my dog. I didn’t have hobbies. I’d never thought of myself as an artist.
- LISA CONGDON
Breaking Open
In her early 30s, Congdon found herself at a crossroads. She’d just ended a decade-long relationship, and for the first time in adulthood, she had space to ask herself questions she’d never paused to consider. Who am I? What do I actually love?

“I was working in education, going home every night, taking care of my dog,” she recalls. “I didn’t have hobbies. I’d never thought of myself as an artist.”
What began as a personal quest for joy — sewing, painting, photographing — collided with a moment in culture when the DIY movement was taking off and online platforms like Flickr and blogs were creating global creative communities. Her earliest projects? Patchwork pillows, shadow boxes, wildly colored birch tree paintings. “It was dorky, sure,” she laughs, “but it was 2003. Everyone was making things.”
When people began asking to buy her work, she started selling to local boutiques in San Francisco’s Mission District. Within a few years, her first solo show caught the attention of Chronicle Books, who licensed her work for journals and stationery. “It was my first professional opportunity as an artist,” she says. “I thought — maybe this is possible.”
I was older. I had work experience. I knew how to network, how to communicate. I wasn’t afraid to take risks.

- LISA CONGDON
Faking It, Then Making It
In the mid-2000s, there wasn’t a roadmap for turning a creative hobby into a career. Congdon sought out working artists for advice, many of whom told her she needed an agent. By 2007, she had one — an unusual move for an emerging artist, but one that paid off.
“I was older. I had work experience. I knew how to network, how to communicate. I wasn’t afraid to take risks,” she says. That confidence, combined with her early-adopter embrace of social media, propelled her forward.
When Instagram launched in 2011, Congdon joined simply to post snapshots of her cats and her cycling adventures. But soon, she realized the platform was perfectly suited for her work: bold, shareable, and visually striking. “That’s when my following started to grow,” she says.

I wanted to make work I wanted to make — work that said what I wanted to say. I got more opportunities by staying true to myself.
- LISA CONGDON
Going Viral, Finding Her Voice
Two pieces cemented her reputation as an artist whose work could both inspire and mobilize. In 2016, she created Protect the Vulnerable — a tiger print commissioned by a resistance organization in the early Trump era. The image spread like wildfire, becoming her best-selling print and a rallying cry.
Around the same time, she hand-lettered Notes to Self — a series of personal reminders born from a moment of conflict in her own life. “They were literally notes to myself,” she says. “The next day, I made them beautiful and put them online. Famous people started sharing it.”
These viral moments crystallized a shift: Congdon no longer wanted to create work solely for commercial licensing. “I wanted to make work I wanted to make — work that said what I wanted to say,” she says. It was risky. Political art can alienate clients. But she leaned in, and the work resonated. “I got more opportunities by staying true to myself,” she says.
I’ve built in breathing room, and it’s changed everything.

- LISA CONGDON
The Value of Spaciousness
By 2020, Congdon’s calendar was packed with brand collaborations, speaking engagements, and personal projects. “I had very little time for my own point of view,” she says. Burnout was inevitable.
In 2022, she made radical changes: she quit drinking, ended toxic relationships, and began saying no to even lucrative projects that didn’t align with her values. She called it “loud quitting,” and when she posted about it, the idea struck a chord online.
One of her core values, she realized, was spaciousness. “If I feel boxed in, I can’t make good work,” she says. “Now I work less of both — less commercial, less personal — so I can do both well.” Her mornings are deliberate: up at 6:00 a.m., black tea, cereal with almond milk and protein powder, then cycling or the gym. “I’ve built in breathing room,” she says, “and it’s changed everything.”

Joy as Resistance
After the 2016 election, Congdon’s work took on a more overt political tone. In 2025, she’s still outspoken — but she’s shifted her focus. “We can’t fight every battle,” she says. “Find the thing you’re passionate about and work on that.” For her, that means LGBTQ+ rights, particularly trans rights, and the belief that joy itself can be a political act.
“Choosing joy in the face of hatred is radical,” she says. “It’s about being an anchor for others, lifting each other up, and insisting on our right to live fully.”

Queer Perspective, Artistic Lens
Congdon came out in 1992, in her early 20s. “It was the early ’90s — heavy, but I was in San Francisco, one of the best places to be queer,” she says. That identity, she believes, inevitably shapes her work.
“My perspective on life is different, and that comes through. Sometimes my work is overtly political, sometimes it’s just flowers — but it’s all me.”
Choosing joy in the face of hatred is radical.
- LISA CONGDON

Full Circle: Community and the Lesbian Culture Club
Today, Congdon’s professional life intersects heavily with the cycling industry, a space that skews straight and mostly male. “I love straight people — three of my best friends are straight,” she laughs. “But I missed a larger queer community.”
Joining the Lesbian Culture Club’s advisory board has been a homecoming. “These events — happy hours, supper clubs, classes — they fill me up. You can take the armor off. You can just be yourself,” she says.
Seeing strong participation from Gen Z and millennials thrills her. “That intergenerational dialogue is amazing,” she says. “When I first heard about LCC, I didn’t know what it would become. What it’s turned into has exceeded anything I could have imagined.”
Rapid Fire
Dream collaborator: Alexander Girard
Studio soundtrack: Adrianne Lenker’s 2020 album, anything, on repeat
Morning ritual: Black tea, cereal, cycling, weight training
Motto: “Protect the Vulnerable” — in art and in life

The Last Word
At 57, Lisa Congdon’s story is proof that it’s never too late to pivot, to discover a new calling, to live fully in one’s values. She’s built a career on authenticity, adaptability, and the courage to create what matters most to her — not just what’s marketable.
“I have privilege, I have a platform,” she says. “I want to use both for good. And I want to wake up every day, in my own skin, feeling joy. That’s how I know I’m doing it right.”
Follow Lisa Congdon at @lisacongdon
Explore Lisa’s work, classes, and products at lisacongdon.com.