The Most Beautiful Leaf: Why I Started The Atelier
By Jenna Harris, Founder & Director
People often ask me what the “spark” was. They want to know the exact moment the idea for The Atelier clicked into place. But looking back, it wasn’t one spark—it was a lifetime of small fires, a few cold douses of reality, and a persistent hunt for something beautiful.
The Hunter of Leaves
It started in autumn, decades ago. I remember looking at a carpet of fallen leaves and seeing their unique beauty for the first time. I decided right then that I would find the “most beautiful leaf” and recruited my little sister into the hunt. It was a turning point; it was the first time I realized I could have a perspective on beauty that was wholly my own.
But as every artist knows, that early confidence is fragile. By second grade, I was in a private school art class, pouring my soul into a drawing of an eagle. I used every shade of brown in the box, drawing zig-zags to make his wings look proud and outstretched. When I went to show my teacher, she didn’t even look at the page. She admonished me because the rest of the class had moved on while I was lost in the work.
The “drop” I felt in that moment was a blow I’m not sure my confidence ever fully recovered from. It was my first lesson in how traditional systems can accidentally stifle the very thing they claim to teach.
The Third Space
I eventually found my “home” in a dance studio run by a mother-daughter duo. They didn’t just teach me steps; they gave me a place to express my creativity, to inhabit my body, and eventually, to learn the “boring” parts of the business—attendance, billing, and the grit behind the grace. I found joy in the absurd contrast of choreographing acrobatic routines for teenagers one hour and dancing with toddlers to “choo-choo train” songs the next.
It was a “third space”—not home, not school, but a community where a mixed-up group of friends could create something that wouldn’t exist in the “real world.”
The Touch of Art
My path led me to Art History and eventually a Curatorial Practice program at CCA. This era was a study in extremes. One day I’d be interning at the diRosa Preserve, literally cleaning bird droppings off million-dollar sculptures (and gossiping with the collections manager during lunch). The next, I’d be touring artist studios—tiny, creative pressure cookers crammed into warehouses—followed by visits to wealthy collectors’ homes where the art felt cold, secluded, and emotionally distant.
Then, the Ghost Ship fire happened in Oakland, just a mile from where I lived. Thirty-six lives were lost, many of them artists living illegally in their studios because they had no other choice. My heart broke. Even though I had distanced myself from the “Capital A” Art World, I couldn’t shake the injustice of it all. Why was there such a lack of respect and support for the people who make our culture worth living in?
The "Double Freak Out" and the "Yes"
I moved to Sacramento, worked for nonprofits, got married, and then—the pandemic hit. I made a human. I freaked out. My husband was laid off, my job paid barely anything, and I was looking at “stable” corporate roles that I knew I would hate.
Then, I had another kid. Double freak out.
I was a working mom with two babies, looking for enrichment for them and a professional community for myself. I was tired of the “nonprofit drama” and the elitist culture of the gallery world. I was frustrated by the lack of spaces that successfully supported artists while staying viable as a business.
One day, someone simply said: “Why don’t you just do it? Open a space.”
Why The Atelier?
The wheels didn’t just turn; they spun. I started talking to artists about the failures of the creative economy and talking to moms about what they wished existed for their kids.
The Atelier is the culmination of all of it:
The little girl looking for the perfect leaf.
The student who was told to “move on” from her drawing.
The dancer who learned that business and art must coexist.
The curator who wants art to be touched and lived with, not secluded.
I realized I couldn’t resist this path anymore. The business model—a “yes-centered” environment that values artist labor and celebrates the process as much as the product—was bursting out of me.
If not now, when? If not me, then who?
Welcome to The Atelier. Let’s go find some leaves.