About Leticia & Sunny Ink

My name is Leticia Scalioni, and most days you’ll find me in the world of data, research, and rigorous thinking. I’m a scientist by training and by temperament: I like clear questions, careful methods, and the kind of logic that holds up under pressure.

But every so often, my brain needs to breathe.

A scientist in love with colour

When the numbers start to blur and the reports feel too sharp around the edges, I go to art galleries. I find a deep, steady comfort in standing in front of a painting — the quiet, the colours, the feeling that someone poured everything they had onto a canvas and left it there for you to find.

I can stand there for a long time, just looking. No deadlines. No conclusions to write. Just a silent conversation with colour and brushstrokes.

Not an artist, but still at home on the page

I am not an artist. I cannot draw a straight line, let alone paint a sunflower. For a long time, I thought that meant the world of making art wasn’t really for me — that I was meant to be an observer, not a participant.

Then I discovered colouring.

Not the rushed, scribbled kind of colouring from childhood, but something slower. The kind you do with a good pencil and no agenda. One small section at a time. No pressure to create something original. No expectation to impress anyone, including yourself.

To my surprise, it gave my scientist’s brain exactly what it needed: rest, rhythm, a reason to stop thinking and simply be. The movement of my hand across the page became a quiet metronome, keeping time while the louder parts of my mind softened and fell away.

A quiet practice, gently shared

I began to talk, very shyly at first, about how much colouring was helping me. Not in a grand, life-changing way, but in the small, important spaces between one demanding day and the next.

So many of us think that if we’re not “creative” in a traditional sense, we don’t belong near art. Yet when we pick up a pencil and let ourselves fill a page with colour, without judgment, something loosens. Something kind.

I gently encourage anyone who has never tried colouring as an adult to give it a chance. You don’t need talent. You don’t need a plan. You only need a few quiet minutes and the willingness to see what happens when you let your hands move before your thoughts do.

The beginning of Sunny Ink

Sunny Ink was born from that simple discovery, and from a deep love of Vincent van Gogh. For years, I found myself returning to his paintings in museums and books — not just for the vivid yellows and swirling skies, but for the tender, complicated human being behind them.

I wanted to make something that could hold both his art and his story. Not a distant, polished version of Van Gogh, but the real, fragile, searching man who stood in fields and small rooms and painted what he saw and felt.

Sunny Ink is my way of offering that to you: a book you can colour your way through while slowly learning who he really was. Each page is an invitation to spend time with his work and his life, at your own pace, pencil in hand.

An invitation to begin

If you are here, perhaps some part of you is also looking for a gentler way to be with yourself. Maybe your days are full of data, decisions, care for others, or responsibilities that never quite pause.

My hope is that Sunny Ink can be a small, steady light in all of that — a place where you can step out of your head for a while and into colour, story, and quiet.

You don’t have to call yourself an artist. You don’t have to know anything about Van Gogh. All you have to do is pick up a pencil, choose a patch of sky or a single sunflower petal, and see how it feels.