FIELD TRIP: NAXOS, GREECE
FEBRUARY 2026

By Allie Beckwith

Do you ever catch a glimpse of where your life is heading and feel a gut reaction that something needs interrupting? Well, mine led me to Greece.

At one point, in one of many conversations about it, I said to Justin, “I’m going, even if you’re not.” That’s how strongly I felt about breaking my current cycle. I can’t fully explain it. It was a pull I knew I had to follow. I made a promise to myself this year that I would follow my intuition. I’ll admit, she doesn’t always seem practical. But she’s been right, time and time again. I’m done doubting her. There have been moments in my life where I’ve felt this same pull, and looking back, they were all pivotal. What I also see now is how much I’ve been unknowingly holding myself back from acting on them in recent years.

Greece was an escape of sorts, but not the kind most people imagine. No cliff jumping or mimosas on a patio. This was Naxos, off-season. Isolated. At the peak of its windy season. It was a ticket in time to be deposited onto a tiny spot on the globe and observe our unfamiliar surroundings.

It felt invigorating, terrifying, exciting, and that what was coming through me was only the beginning.

It showed me that my patterns do need to be interrupted. That I am, quite literally, obsessed with sitting still and putting pen to paper, no matter what’s in front of me. I find it interesting, exciting, and my ideal way of passing time on this planet.

I loved watching the patterns of the ferries, crossing through calm seas and angry. I noticed each night she would pass, and the evening light grew softer, lighter, day by day.

I loved the way the sun flooded our rental with gold once a day, and I made sure I was always there to catch it.

I loved noticing, again and again, how purple revealed itself in the shadows at certain times of day.

In the mornings, the island of Paros across the water felt so dimensional I could feel its depth. By evening, she would recede, flattening into grey, then navy, until the sun woke her up again tomorrow.

I loved how Justin and I would both notice, within minutes of each other, when the wind finally died down. We’d look at each other, nod, and head straight for the terrace. I loved how we fell, a little clumsily, into our own routine of dropping off our clothes at the laundromat just before their unofficial daily 2pm closing. It made me reflect on home. The laundry renovation in our future is something I’m excited to bring to life, but currently, it is in fact, in house. But there was something outside of us here that I appreciated.

I loved daydreaming about a bakery we stumbled upon in 2023, tucked off the beaten path, and setting out to find it again this time.
The first bite was exactly as good as I remembered. Another small tick of validation…

Placing myself there with only one expectation, to create whatever I felt called to, became an experiment. An experiment in trusting my own eye. Not a reference photo. Not an experience belonging to a collector I’ve never met across the country.

Just me, my eye, and the canvases and frames Justin was improvising from discarded wooden pallets on the side of the road, because the hardware stores closed early.

I loved noticing the locals I could count on one hand in the surrounding homes, the ones who stay year round, the ones who care for the stray cats.

I loved passing the construction sites each day, watching the progress the same group of men made. Knocking down, rebuilding block by block. Then stucco. Then paint.
Usually white.