Landing in Ancona, Italy was like entering another world. Thunder boomed, lightning streaked across the sky, and we touched down in Italy with a mix of excitement and awe. There was something electric about arriving in Italy this way, like the universe was setting the stage for something unforgettable. The organizers had arranged a place for us to stay with Wouter and Sylvia, a lovely couple who own a little bed-and-breakfast called Rosa nel Pozzo. Wouter came to pick up two friends and me, and we set off into the pitch-black countryside.
The drive was surreal, winding through deep valleys with no lights but the faint glow of the car’s headlights. After what felt like an endless stretch of quiet roads and soft murmurs between us, we finally arrived. The place was a charming, quintessentially Italian apartment, filled with cozy decor that seemed to invite us to rest. I remember taking a quick shower and collapsing into bed, my mind racing but my body too exhausted to keep up.
The next morning, I had no idea what awaited me outside that door. But when I opened it, I felt my breath catch. The view was straight out of a dream—rolling green hills, stretches of golden light filtering through the clouds, the essence of the Italian countryside. I could hardly believe it was real. I honestly felt like I’d died, gone to heaven, and somehow miraculously returned. Wouter and Sylvia treated us to breakfast, then we set off for Borgo Belfiore, where the retreat was happening.
Borgo Belfiore itself was stunning, a secluded sanctuary where the only sounds were the hum of the countryside and the excited whispers of artists gathering from all over. There were women from Cairo, the Netherlands, London, the U.S., France—each one of us from a different place, yet all here for the same reason: art and the Milan Art Institute. I’d admired the Milan family for years, following them online, learning from their insights and watching their journey, so being here in person felt almost surreal.
And then, as if out of a story, the Milan family arrived—Elli Milan and her husband John Milan and their daughters Dafni and Dimitra with her husband Jake and their adorable one year old son, Zion. Seeing Elli Milan along with her family felt like superheroes walking up the hill. I’d been following their art journey for years, and here they were in person. The dream was right in front of me, and I felt this instant urge to rush over and hug them all. Of course, I had to go over and tell Elli Milan that I was her biggest fan and that I love her. Overwhelmed with emotion, I turned to Elli and said, “I love you.” Half-jokingly, I added, “Don’t you love me back?” She smiled and replied, “I don’t even know you.” But then, in the strangest and most heartwarming twist, on the very last night of the retreat, as we all gathered to say our goodbyes around 11:30 p.m., one of the attendees walked up to me and said, “Elli left a message for you—she said to tell you she loves you.” That moment is something I’ll never forget; it felt like a beautiful circle closing.
Each day at the retreat followed its own rhythm. We’d start with breakfast, savoring fresh ingredients, and then gather in an ancient building from the 15th century. There was a sacred feeling about being there, like the walls held stories of artists who’d come long before us. After breakfast, we’d settle into workshops, learning new techniques, experimenting with materials, and taking time to meditate in hidden corners of the property surrounded by lush green.
One of the days, we had a workshop with
PanPastels, a type of chalk pastel that applies with delicate little brushes. I was hooked from the first stroke—there was something about the texture, the way it felt on paper, that made me feel so connected to my work. I’ve been using PanPastels constantly since I got back, and every time I pick them up, I’m transported right back to Italy.
And then we had the chance to experiment with cyanotype, a beautiful process that involves layering shapes and forms to create this ethereal blue image. We spent hours working on each layer, and it felt like pure magic watching our pieces transform each day.
Every now and then, I’d take a quiet moment to myself, retreating to my room to process everything. There was something comforting in knowing that when I woke up in Italy, everyone back in LA was still asleep. I had this strange, comforting sense of privacy, like I could breathe a little deeper and let my thoughts settle without interruption. It was a gift.
Twice during the retreat, we ventured out. We took a trip to Pesaro, a charming beach town with narrow streets and the scent of the sea. I hadn’t been to a beach in ages, and there was something therapeutic about it. We all sat together, talking, crying, sharing the hidden parts of ourselves. Every single one of us was going through something, and it felt like this sacred space where we could let it all out and just be.
The retreat wasn’t just about art techniques; it was about discovering who we are as artists. Elli guided us through reflections about our “why”—why we create, what drives us, what stories we’re here to tell. It made me realize how much my heritage, my Armenian culture, and my life’s journey infuse every piece I create. I’m not just making art; I’m telling a story, sharing a legacy, connecting threads of the past with the present.
Another day, we focused on storytelling in art and how that storytelling can become part of your brand. It was a reminder of why I do what I do and how important it is to share those stories with the world. We also had practical sessions, like learning to create Reels and social media content, which was both fun and useful.
Towards the last days, we spent the entire session oil painting. The focus in the space was almost meditative as we each worked on our pieces, capturing the journey we’d been on over the past two weeks. There was a bittersweet energy as we finished up, knowing that this chapter was coming to a close but also carrying a deep sense of gratitude for the experience we’d shared.
Leaving Italy was hard, to say the least. I came back feeling completely refreshed, my creative spirit reinvigorated, and my heart full from all the connections I’d made. In those two weeks, I’d laughed, cried, learned, and created with some of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. It felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind in those hills and valleys, but I also came back with a piece of Italy embedded in my soul, a piece that will fuel my art in ways I never could have imagined.
The women I met on this retreat have now become an integral part of my life. We’ve formed a Instagram chat group where we connect, share our artworks, and inspire one another. It feels like I’ve finally found the tribe I was searching for.
