"Abigail, you're addicted to the creative process." — Ted Rose
Abigail Youngers lives just outside Nashville, Tennessee, where she is surrounded by nature and lush, verdant landscapes. Homeschooled and without access to an art teacher, she had no formal drawing or painting experience before college — yet she was far from lacking in creative influences. Raised in a creative household, she loved crafts as a child and even launched her own small sewing business. That creative drive was inherited from both parents: her father, highly logical and hands-on, gave her a mind that understands the three-dimensional side of creation; her mother, abstractly minded, left an entirely different mark. The result was an internally dichotomous existence — the logical and the abstract engaged in constant tension throughout Abigail's artistic journey. Yet it was ultimately this tension that made her a standout and uniquely gifted student.
Abigail's love of art developed across two schools and two mentors. At Volunteer State Community College, professor Nate introduced her to charcoal drawing — a medium she fell in love with immediately. When she transferred to Cumberland University to complete her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree (what she affectionately called her degree in "creative problem solving"), professor Ted brought painting into the picture. She loved both mediums so much that choosing between them was never an option. She simply never did. Instead, she uses both simultaneously, mixing and blending charcoal and acrylic paint in a technique entirely her own.
This signature style was born from a junior-year assignment, a hatred of graphite, and a happy "mistake." The assignment called for graphite and paint — but Abigail, not realizing graphite was specifically required and hating it anyway, reached for her charcoal pencils instead. By the time her professor Ted noticed, the project was too far along to change course. He gave her a gentle warning about charcoal's tendency to smear and let her continue. This "mistake" wound up being the most important discovery of Abigail's artistic journey. Her dual-medium technique now defines every piece she creates.
She uses this style to capture the immense influence nature has on her life and work — a love rooted in growing up surrounded by the lush green world of Tennessee, and deepened through travels to Colorado, the Grand Canyon, and Yellowstone. With every new place she experiences, her desire to paint the beauty of this world only grows.
Why I Paint
Painting became a way for God to teach and encourage me. My hope is that in them, you find your own moment with God — and that He encourages you through them too.
I create art because I love the process. My professor was right — I am addicted to it. It is rare that I have a complete picture of what I am going to paint before I begin. I like to solve it like a puzzle, drawing out the fuzzy ideas that surface in my mind and seeing where they lead.
The last few years have made the process even more meaningful, because God has used my paintings to speak with me and teach me. More and more, compositions come to me during worship and prayer. The meanings behind them have unfolded at every stage — from the moment I receive an idea, to while I am creating, to as I pray over a finished piece.
It started in 2024. I had been painting for years, but the idea of selling my work was something I was still wrestling with — it felt too personal to share. One day, while working on a background and praying through that struggle, I heard in my spirit: "I know you to your fullest." It was one of the first times I felt I had heard scripture while painting. That piece became Known: Psalms 139:1–2 — a bird flying over a patch of wildflowers against a bright pink background.
After that moment, I decided I wanted every painting to carry a scripture. I didn't realize it then, but that was the beginning of wanting to share what God had shown me — the start of building a business around encouraging others with the messages He gives me, and leaving space for Him to speak something different to someone else entirely through the work.
The irony is not lost on me: my paintings have only become more personal, yet I now want to share them more than ever. I want people to have their own Known moments.
If you had asked me in college whether I would ever sell my work, I would have said absolutely not. But the more I painted — and especially after I began painting to hear from God — everything changed. I want my art in people's homes so that maybe, in a quiet moment, it points someone back to Him. Maybe it encourages someone who is struggling. Maybe it simply makes someone smile. These are the moments I paint for.
Abigail hopes her work brings a piece of that beauty — and that peace — into your home.