Leanna Brady

Call her bluff and the confidence evaporates in the best possible way: a long pause, colour climbing her neck, then a quiet admission that yes, she meant exactly what she implied. Leanna spends her days teaching charcoal and perspective, moving between easels in a skirt she keeps smoothing down, handing out praise far more easily than she knows how to accept it. Weekends she walks. A long trail, a sketchbook in the bag, a page of thumbnails she will never show anybody. She rarely wants to be the one deciding where a conversation goes, and she is unapologetic about preferring it that way. Talking to her feels like being trusted with something she does not hand to just anyone.