In Flowood, Meagan Torrence has turned a parking space into her “Bless This Mess Garage Studio.”
Some of the best art in Mississippi right now isn’t happening in a studio with perfect lighting or white walls.
But it’s not where you might expect—rather, it’s happening in a garage.
In Flowood, Meagan Torrence has turned a parking space into her “Bless This Mess Garage Studio.” The name fits—canvases stacked, works in progress everywhere, and usually a five-year-old in the middle of it all.
That’s her daughter, Willa—“Wilder” to her family—and she’s as much a part of Maypop Art as the paint itself.
Torrence never planned a perfectly branded art business. The whole thing grew out of “real life”—one that doesn’t slow down just because you’re creative. With a full-time job as director of sales at Topgolf in Ridgeland, a background in art education, and deep Mississippi ties from central roots to more than a decade at Ole Miss, she fits art into the life she already lives.
Now, art happens when it can—often at the margins.
“I create art at this season of my life in the margins,” she said.
That word—margins—says it all. This isn’t precious or overproduced. It’s real, squeezed in between meetings, motherhood, and everything else.
Why? Because it matters.
Initially, the garage became a studio out of necessity. Soon, though, it transformed into something more.
“It felt really important to dedicate a space to it,” Torrence said.
So the cars moved out to the driveway. The paint moved in. And Wilder got a place where she’s allowed to fully be a kid.
“She can come out here and make a mess pretty much anywhere,” Torrence said.
And she does.
What’s emerging in that garage goes beyond a collection of paintings—it’s a rhythm. Together, the pair take walks, notice details others overlook, then return home to transform those observations into lasting art.
“We’ve been painting lots of bugs and native Mississippi plants that we bring home pictures of,” Torrence said.
What results from their walks is simple, yet intentional: a roly-poly, a patch of clover, a plant most people would pull up without a second thought. Through her work, those things become the subject—not the background.
If you’ve spent any time in Mississippi, you know exactly the kind of memories she’s tapping into. Summers outside. Dirt under your fingernails. The feeling that something small could be worth studying.
That thread runs straight through Maypop Art.
The name itself comes from the maypop flower, a wild, almost otherworldly bloom that grows right here in Mississippi—often in sandy soil where you wouldn’t expect much of anything to thrive. It’s a fitting image for the work Torrence is doing: something intricate and beautiful, growing in a place that wasn’t originally meant for it.
Her path hasn’t been linear. She studied art, was pushed toward the BFA, but finished with a BA in art studio, then earned a degree in art education. She taught and built a career. Along the way, art returned—just not as she imagined.
That ebb and flow of real life shows up in her work.
Some pieces are commissions—pet portraits, for example, that can take 10 to 15 hours to complete. Others are more instinctive, driven by whatever catches her attention that day.
“I am one to sort of just jump around by like, ‘Oh, I was inspired by this today—I’m going to paint that,’” she said.
Over the past year, she’s focused on building a cohesive body of work, taking a break from festivals to create more inventory. If you’ve attended Makers Fest in Jackson, Double Decker in Oxford, or the Canton Flea Market, her art may already be familiar—or soon will be.
Now, there’s also talk of something new: mother-daughter art classes. These won’t be overly formal or intimidating—just a natural extension of the creativity that already happens in their garage.
Because at the heart of it, that’s what Maypop Art really is.
This isn’t about perfection, clean lines, or a consistent series. It’s about paying attention, letting a child participate, and recognizing the mess is just part of the process—not something to be cleaned away first.
“The message of all of it is kind of just to slow down and appreciate those little things that might seem mundane,” Torrence said.
And she means it.
Spend five minutes in the garage—or looking at her work—and you start to see differently. Weeds aren’t weeds. Bugs aren’t just bugs. The ordinary isn’t so ordinary.
It’s truly beautiful.
It’s just that most of us stopped noticing–Meagan Torrence and her daughter didn’t.
If you are interested in purchasing art, visit Maypop Art on Facebook or Etsy.
-- Article credit to Meredith Biesinger for the Magnolia Tribune --
