This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sara Wilczynska, the founder of Swil Arts Studio. She left her job as a software engineer at Google, spent a year traveling with her partner, and discovered watercolors in Thailand. Her words have been edited for length and clarity.
I was born in Warsaw in the 1980s, when Poland was still a communist country. I remember witnessing the shift into capitalism.
I earned a master’s degree in computer science from the University of Warsaw, interning in Barcelona and studying abroad in Edinburgh along the way.
At 25, I moved to London to work as a software engineer at an investment bank. I stayed nearly five years, but even then, there was a quiet voice in the background asking whether this was really what I wanted to do.
I started working at Google in 2015
I joined Google in Zurich, and it felt like a step closer to something more meaningful. After about a year and a half, I got my US visa and was transferred to New York, where I worked on the news section of the search engine.
On paper, my career was everything I had worked toward. Google was flexible, supportive, and full of brilliant people. I had autonomy over my work — from the projects to my physical working location — and the benefits were incredible.
My days included coding, meetings, but also yoga classes, gym sessions, gourmet birthday meals, and even subsidized massages. There was also stability — a good paycheck and stock grant options.
That’s also what made it so hard to leave.
Later, as my career progressed — I was promoted twice within Google — there was more high-level work, a lot of stakeholder meetings, and less hands-on coding work.
I started to feel disconnected. A growing sense that the pace wasn’t sustainable for me. That constant stimulation — screens, deadlines, notifications, expectations — was pulling me away from myself.
Six years later, during the pandemic, I moved to San Diego with my partner, Valentina.
Something shifted
It was living in San Diego that forced me to slow down. There was nature everywhere — the ocean, the desert, the mountains — and suddenly I had space to pause.
I started noticing small things again. The scent of jasmine on a warm evening. The simple joy of eating a fish taco. That realization made it impossible to ignore the misalignment in my work.
At first, I tried to fix it without leaving. I trained in sound healing and hosted sessions. I took on different projects at Google, including leading diversity and inclusion initiatives. I even reduced my working hours.
None of it fully addressed the core feeling. I remember thinking, “Am I just being too picky? Am I asking for too much?” Because there was nothing objectively wrong with my job. It wasn’t toxic. I respected my colleagues.
At some point, I understood that a job can tick every box — it can look perfect on paper — but if something deeper is missing, it’s not enough.
Even then, leaving wasn’t easy. One of the biggest challenges was not knowing what would come next. I kept thinking I needed a plan. A clear, logical next step.
But eventually, I realized that waiting for certainty was just keeping me stuck.
So my partner and I made a decision that felt radical at the time. I quit my job at the end of 2022 — Valentina’s job had been eliminated the previous year — and we decided to travel for a year. We rented out our apartment in San Diego and went traveling.
That year changed everything
We spent most of 2023 in Southeast Asia, with shorter trips to Australia and New Zealand. At first, we moved quickly, but eventually we slowed down. We spent six months in Koh Tao, a small island in Thailand.
Life there felt simple. My partner was working as a dive master, and I had something I hadn’t experienced in years: unstructured time.
That’s when I picked up watercolors. I had no formal training. I just felt drawn to it. I started taking online classes, sketching scenes from the island: fruit stands, village views, little everyday moments.
I started sharing my work in local Facebook community groups in Koh Tao. I didn’t expect much, but people began reaching out on Facebook — not just to compliment the work, but to buy it. They would tell me, “This captures my memory of this place perfectly.”
When our year of travel ended, I decided to commit to art. Not because I had everything figured out, but because I didn’t want to ignore that pull anymore. We extended our flexible lifestyle — house-sitting across the US to reduce living costs — and I started building my studio, Swil Arts, in San Diego, from the ground up.
Now, that’s where I create original watercolor illustrations. Then I reproduce them as illustrated goods, including prints and homeware.
My days are very different now. I spend mornings painting, afternoons on the business side, handling client communications, website content, and business strategy. I earn my income through direct-to-consumer retail, wholesale partnerships with boutiques, and custom art commissions for both individuals and brands.
Although it’s not at the level of my previous income, we are still a young company. Success is completely different now. It’s not about productivity or output. It’s about impact. If one person pauses because of my work — if they feel something, remember something — that’s enough.
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