o·cu·rrió

/o·ku·rjó/

verb, Spanish.

Something that occurred. An idea that arrived uninvited, fully formed.

The name came to me when I was in Mexico City, in a moment when I was least expecting it. I spent much of my trip reflecting on the changes that had happened in my life over the past few months and how it felt like I'd outgrown parts of myself. At a restaurant one evening, I saw a cocktail on the menu called, "Algo que se me ocurrió" – something that occurred to me. Something that came to mind.

That phrase stuck. It felt like the way I create art: not through force or planning, but through sudden moments of clarity. An image appears. A form takes shape. The ocean waves are just how my feelings look that day.

Ocurrió Studio is my practice of honoring those unexpected moments of creative knowing – the space that comes between endings and beginnings, when something new can finally emerge.

Woman sitting on a wooden bench by the ocean, holding a small painting.

I'm Grace Lihn, the artist behind Ocurrió Studio.

I paint watercolors and make ceramics, and you'll most often find me somewhere along the coast with a brush in hand.

For over a decade, I've traveled California's coast and around the world to paint plein air: where fog meets the Santa Cruz Mountains, where a wave catches light just before it breaks, where the last of the sun disappears into San Gregorio's shoreline.

My work has been exhibited in solo and group shows, including "Love Letters to the Ocean" at The Yard Coffee (July 2025) and the Pacific Art League 104th Anniversary Exhibit (November 2025 to January 2026), juried by Veronica Roberts from Stanford's Cantor Arts Center.

I hold a bachelor's degree in Conservation & Resource Studies from UC Berkeley and an MBA in Sustainability from Presidio Graduate School. But long before either degree, I was already trying to understand my relationship with the earth through my art. I paint it because some things need to be felt before they can be fully known. Because standing at the shoreline, the waves washing over my feet, I feel something words have never quite captured – presence, perhaps. Wholeness.

I believe we are not separate from nature. We are nature. And I think that's worth remembering, worth painting, worth protecting.

My hope is that you find yourself in these pieces. A place you love, a feeling you recognize... Something you didn't know you were looking for.

Find your piece