

Too Much is Just Enough: The Art of Being with Savannah Marie
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There’s a quiet rhythm society often hums in our ears: choose a single path, commit to it, and don’t stray too far. This rhythm is changin, but it's thanks to the ones that dance to a different beat, just like Savannah Marie Ringard —a spontaneous, unapologetic improvisation of expression.
Thank goodness for that.
Savannah, a poet, painter, and all-around creative force, didn’t start her journey with a gilded proclamation of “I’m an artist!” plastered on a metaphorical billboard. No, she started in a garage. Not glamorous, perhaps, but transformative. Savannah, like many of us, grappled with the voices in her head that questioned her worth, her talent, her right to claim “artist” as her identity. It took sticky notes on a mirror and relentless self-redefinition to overcome the imposter syndrome that told her she wasn’t enough.
Her story unfolds with a touch of cosmic alignment, the kind that feels ripped from the pages of a feel-good novel. One day, painting in her garage, a stranger suggested she’d thrive in Austin. The skeptic in her dismissed the idea immediately—Texas? Really? But curiosity led her to explore, and soon she found herself trading California for the vibrant, messy embrace of Austin. Cue a chance encounter with a gallery owner who saw her spark and handed her the reins to host her own event. The rest, as they say, is history.
“I didn’t have confidence in it at first. I used to tell myself, ‘You’re not an artist yet.’ But who decides that? Eventually, I realized it was me.”
I nodded, thinking about my own experiences. I myself struggled with my identity as a musician, at first I was very skeptic in claiming that title then I realised we all go through it. In different ways, but all with the same voice whispering: "You are not enough."
“It’s like that Buddhist saying: ‘The deeper your roots go into hell, the higher your branches can grow into heaven.’ You’ve built those roots.”
Savannah’s life is a love letter to community and art, intertwined in ways that feel both deliberate and serendipitous.
Her first event was as bold as she is: a celebration of all the ways people have told her she’s “too much”—too loud, too colorful, too everything. She embraced it all.
“If you’ve been told you’re too much then this party is for you.”
A man wore everything he owned, a literal minimalist-turned-maximalist. Another came decked out in Jurassic Park gear, because why not? Savannah’s events don’t just invite you to be yourself; they dare you to be the biggest, wildest version of yourself.
Yet her journey isn’t all glitter and gallery lights. Savannah talks candidly about the darker moments, the loneliness that comes with pursuing an unconventional path.
She calls it “beautiful loneliness,” the kind that forces you to drown out the noise and get reacquainted with your own voice.
“Cry it out, write it out, paint it out. Just transmute it. There’s always a little nugget of wisdom somewhere in all that sadness.”
I replied:
“The thing about pain is that you try to avoid it, but in the end, the only way is through. And when you do, there’s this strange beauty in capturing it in your art. Like when I perform a song tied to a painful memory—I know I’ll never express it the same way again. That moment is raw and fleeting, but it’s also uniquely powerful. And that’s the beauty of it: you’ve bottled up a piece of that pain and turned it into something eternal, something true."
Savannah:
“Exactly. The crazy thing they don’t tell you is, if you really let yourself feel it, you eventually run out of tears. Then you’re left with clarity—and that upward spiral.”
Her open mic nights, poetry readings, and social media posts reflect this ethos. Savannah is refreshingly real, a counterpoint to the manicured perfection we’re fed on Instagram. She’s the person who’ll tell you that healing doesn’t come with a grand “aha!” moment—it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Maybe one day you’ll realize that the song that once made you cry on stage doesn’t hurt anymore. There’s a bittersweet beauty in capturing such a painful moment in your art—a beauty that exists because it can never be fully replicated again. Or perhaps it’s the realization that the party where you wore your insecurities scribbled across your legs wasn’t just for you; it helped someone else feel seen, reminding us of the transformative power of vulnerability.
Savannah brings with her the mosaic of contrasts: joy and sorrow, vulnerability and strength, failure and resilience.
“It’s a world made of contrasts...
I said at one point, echoing her sentiment.
nothing would exist without them.”
So, now it's your turn: When was the last time you turned your "too much" into your superpower? And if you haven’t yet, what’s stopping you?
Savannah Marie: Organizing community events and creating art to inspire expression and connection as the artist and experience manager at Richesart Gallery.
This blog was written by Anais Schmidt, one of the hosts of the Uncharted Podcast. Anais is also an aspiring musician. When not in her studio, she tours Europe with Monte Mai.

If you would like to join the conversation email us at anais@foundingup.com
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