Today we’d like to introduce you to Danielle Colbeck.
Hi Danielle, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
I grew up in a small town in northeastern Iowa, and nothing about my life ever followed a straight or traditional path. In my twenties, I was basically nomadic, making art on stages with bands, creating in motion, learning how to work inside noise, chaos, and constant change.
I have bounced from city to city over the years, with “time served” in Chicago, St. Louis, Minneapolis, Seattle, Iowa City, San Francisco, Oakland, and the Napa Valley.
By my thirties, I started shifting off the stages and into live gallery work, carrying that same improvisational energy into a different atmosphere. The pandemic years certainly put a strong pause on that, and I still consider placing myself back within those environments, but have been focused on more concrete projects now that I am in my forties.
The largest shift that I do find discouraging is watching the absurdly rapid mutation of AI flooding the creative world with fast, soulless output. Whether it is music, animation, movies, art…. It’s been brutally disheartening to see how quickly people accept art without a pulse.
I’ve survived wildfires more than once; lost entire chapters of my life, rebuilt from ash, and kept creating anyway. Those years, the travel, the losses, the rebuilds, the strange places art has taken me, the incredible people I have been fortunate to meet along the way- they’re part of a long-term book project I’ve been shaping in the background.
It’s not a memoir so much as a record of reflecting upon my existence, showing up every day no matter how bad things are, and continuing to live, to create… all while the world keeps shifting under me.
Currently, I’m preparing for a potential future collaboration with my younger brother and his independent miniature paint company, merging my art background with his world of detail and precision.
It feels like another evolution, but still rooted in the same thing that’s carried me through every version of my life: making real art in real time, with a human pulse behind it.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Nothing about my road has ever been smooth.
Most of my life has been a mix of instability, abrupt detours, and rebuilding from situations I didn’t choose.
I’ve dealt with losing homes, losing entire environments to wildfire in 2015 and again in 2016, losing the sense of “normal” more times than I can count. I’ve had to start over from literal ground zero after disasters, and I’ve had years where survival took priority over creativity.
I’ve worked jobs that have exploited me, lived in places that weren’t safe, and pushed through stretches where the future felt completely unclear.
The hardest part hasn’t been the chaos itself, at all.
It’s been trying to keep creating through it, trying to hold onto any sense of direction while everything around me kept shifting. Those experiences shaped me more than any single chapter of my art career. They taught me how to adapt quickly, how to rebuild without waiting for permission, and how to keep moving even when the road disappears beneath my feet. And to continue being grateful for another day, another chance…a favorite quote for me is that every day is a gift, which is why we call it the Present.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I’m a live artist who works in real time — on stages, in galleries, and in collaborative spaces where the energy of the moment shapes the piece. I’m known for painting during live music performances, creating visual work that grows alongside the sound. Some of the highlights of my career came from that era: sharing stages with Atmosphere, painting during Dresden Dolls shows, and being part of nights where the art and music fed off each other.
I also take on projects that exist outside the stage.
One of the pieces I’m proud of was painting Bob Melvin for the Battle of the Bay art show in 2018, a moment where my work intersected with Bay Area sports culture in a way I didn’t expect. I would go on to be interviewed in 2019 with Brodie Brazil, highlighting another painting I did for the Battle of the Bay art show that year.
More recently, my art appeared on the live stream for the “Remembering Jackie” eBook project assembled by Dena of the YouTube channel, “Raptor Stories.” The project was honoring Jackie, the Big Bear bald eagle, followed by thousands of people, who died on August 10th after three weeks at the Ojai Raptor Center in attempts to save her life.
Being included in something with that kind of emotional reach meant a lot to me.
What sets me apart is that everything I do is rooted in presence. I don’t create from templates or trends, and I refuse to live my life based on algorithms.
I work from lived experience, improvisation, and the energy of the environment I’m in. I’m proud of the moments where my work became part of something bigger than me, whether it was a stage, a community project, or a tribute with real meaning behind it. My art has always come from a human pulse, and that’s the part I protect the most.
Do you have any memories from childhood that you can share with us?
My favorite childhood memories split between two parts of the year: the summers in Allen Park, Michigan, and the huge Christmases my family had.
Every summer we’d drive out to visit my paternal grandpa and great‑grandparents, and those trips were a steady part of my childhood. I remember the swimming pool, my great-grandma’s endless cooking and nonstop access to food, the relatives gathering, and the feeling of stepping into a place that stayed the same year after year. Those summers were simple but meaningful, and they’ve stayed with me. Even today, I miss those summers.
Christmas was just as big, but in a completely different way. My maternal grandma went all out, piling gifts under the tree to where the living room was consumed by presents, and the holiday basically turned into a three‑day marathon at times. My paternal grandma would make batches of cookies and baked goods.
My parents hauled my brothers and me from our rural little town to every family gathering, so we ended up having “numerous Christmases” between Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the day after. It was loud, busy, and exhausting in the best possible way. Well, my mom and dad may dispute my sentiment of it being “the best,” haha; they ensured we had the best summers and holidays ever.
I was fortunate to grow up with great‑grandparents on both sides still alive through the 80s and 90s, and that’s something I didn’t fully appreciate until I got older. Those summers, those holidays, and all the time I had with them are what stand out the most. It wasn’t one single moment at all; rather, it was the whole collection of experiences that shaped what I remember and value now.
Not a day goes by that I do not miss my great-grandparents and grandparents.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/daniellecolbeck/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/daniellecolbeck
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/danielle-colbeck-4959629
- Twitter: https://x.com/dani_colbeck
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@daniellecolbeck1983
- Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/user-543274810
