Today we’d like to introduce you to Marilyn Traeger.
Hi Marilyn, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
Ever since I was little, I’ve been happiest when I’m creating. Thanks to the encouraging, supportive environment my parents gave me, I grew up believing that curiosity, creativity, and learning were always worth pursuing.
For more than 40 years, I taught art to students of every age, from kindergarten through university. Along the way, I helped start organizations supporting art education and scholarships, because I believe creativity can change lives. I was recognized as one of Florida’s Outstanding Art Teachers, but awards were never the point. My greatest satisfaction came from watching people realize they were capable of creating something they never thought possible.
Life has brought its share of changes and health challenges, but each one has reminded me to appreciate what matters most: family, friends, curiosity, and the chance to make something meaningful. One of my greatest joys is contributing to the lives of my children and grandchildren. I hope they see that it’s never too late to keep learning, creating, and growing. I still see myself as a teacher at heart, whether I’m painting, learning Procreate, organizing ideas, or sharing what I’ve learned with others.
When I retired from teaching in 2012 and later moved from Miami to Greenville, South Carolina, in 2025, I didn’t retire from creating. I gave myself permission to explore—to try new ideas, meet new people, and discover new possibilities.
Today, I stand at an interesting crossroads: an experienced educator becoming a student again, an inquisitive artist embracing new media, a writer remembering her past, and a traveler collecting inspiration.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
It hasn’t always been a smooth road. Like most people, I’ve faced health challenges and unexpected changes—some arrived quietly, others that reshaped things overnight. Over time, I’ve learned that it’s not the problem itself that defines me, but how I choose to respond to it.
It sounds ridiculous, but try to see obstacles as opportunities—chances to learn, adapt, and appreciate what I can still do rather than dwell on what I can’t. Ironically, my less-than-perfect memory has been a gift. It helps me let go of hardships more easily, especially with the love and support of family and friends who help me through difficult times. That shift in perspective isn’t always easy, but it has made all the difference. It’s taught me patience, gratitude, and a deeper appreciation for the people and moments that matter most.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
Art has taught me that it is often hard to start. And yet I must.
There is always something that needs to be shared, something that presses to escape from the inside to the outside. It may arrive as a strong feeling or a quiet whisper. It may emerge as a visual work or a word on a page. Whatever form it takes, it insists on becoming.
More than fifty years ago, I began carrying small books with me wherever I went, writing in them as I moved through the world. The writing began with artists’ quotes. Over time, the books opened wider, welcoming the voices of poets, philosophers, friends, strangers, and me. Most of them are still stored in a box under my desk.
As you know, we moved recently, and a year later I am still unpacking. One box holds those little books. Opening it feels like a rediscovery—the slow, careful work of recovering what was buried, finding the words I once needed badly enough to write down.
On the day after the devastatingly awful vote (2016), the first of The Sad Girls exploded from the canvas. Many Girls followed the first, and now I fear they must return, because things have gone from bad to worse. Sadly, I haven’t painted in a year, and at first that surprised me. But looking back, I understand—I was in a season of change.
Moving takes a great deal of energy. I am once again in Liminal Space. If you know me, you already know I’ve been here before.
Perhaps I needed time to step away from the canvas to discover what I want to say next. Creativity doesn’t always look like making visual art—it can also be found in learning, organizing, experimenting, and beginning again. I believe physical painting will return when I am ready.
Until then, I will write “Art is the Teacher”.
What do you like and dislike about the city?
It is almost impossible for me to name what I like best about Greenville. Saying “everything” may not be the most accurate answer, but it is certainly the most honest one.
My husband and I love the pace of this life —the feeling that there is time to notice things. I love the people and their genuine kindness, the manageable size of the community, the changing seasons, the beauty of nature, the food, the growing arts scene, and most of all, being close to my daughter and her family. Having my son and his family here would make it perfect!
After so many years in Miami, Greenville has offered me a different rhythm. It feels welcoming, connected, and grounded. There is a sense of community here that invites conversation, creativity, and belonging. I appreciate the simple things: a walk surrounded by trees, a friendly exchange with a stranger, discovering a new local restaurant, visiting an artist’s studio, or watching the landscape change with each season.
Of course, many people here complain about the traffic. But having survived decades of the unique adventure that is Miami driving, my perspective is different. A slow traffic light or a backed-up road in Greenville barely registers. After navigating Miami’s highways, where patience and defensive driving are daily necessities, Greenville traffic feels almost peaceful.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://marilyntraeger.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marilyntraeger/?hl=en
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.traeger.7
