Birth Of The Project
Written by Allison Bryant
Coincidence...?
The Beginning of the Journey
As a lifelong artist, I never expected my self-taught artwork to grow beyond a personal hobby. I’ve always been drawn to representational realism—a style rooted in truth and craftsmanship—even as the modern art world seemed to increasingly favor abstraction. For a long time, I believed there was no place for someone like me in that world. But God clearly had other plans.
In late 2021, what seemed like a small coincidence began a chain reaction I never could have anticipated. That October, I created a piece of artwork as a birthday gift for my husband. Just for fun, I decided to participate in a small holiday craft show in Twin Falls, Idaho, the following month. Among the trinkets at my modest little booth, I included that drawing—trimmed to fit a cheap frame and tucked away on the bottom shelf of my display.
I priced it at $80 (it would later become my first high-ticket sale at $600). Though it didn’t sell that day, it drew a surprising amount of attention. I left the event with a question that had never before entered my mind: Could my self-taught, no-name artwork actually have a place in the 21st-century art scene?
Within a month, I had created five sister pieces and made my first set of art prints. With those prints and a small pop-up table, I attended another holiday fair in December 2021—and officially sold my first artwork.
The response was incredibly encouraging, and I began to pursue my art with intention. Over the next two years, I was accepted into more than 50 local and regional shows, including several that were nationally ranked. I won first place in drawing at one of the largest art competitions in the Northwest, and my work was featured in four galleries in Twin Falls. Throughout it all, I could see the unmistakable hand of God guiding me, opening doors I never could have opened myself.
Open Doors
Learning the Trade
In The Waiting
Seeking Him in the Silence
In early 2024, my husband Casey and I made the decision to move our family of five to the Kansas City, Missouri area. I believed, without a doubt, that God would provide a place for my artwork there, too. But the reality was far more difficult than I imagined. Doors that had once flown open now slammed shut. Events rejected my applications. Partners didn’t respond. After experiencing so much encouragement out West, I found myself met with silence in the Midwest. And I began to wonder—Was I still on the path God wanted for me?
After a year of trying to find my place in this new community, I asked God for a clear sign. I had discovered a gallery in Tennessee that felt like the perfect fit, so I submitted an application in early January 2025. I told the Lord that if this didn’t work out, I would surrender this dream entirely and seek His will in a new direction.
At the same time, our church in Harrisonville was in the middle of a sermon series on what our pastor called “dangerous prayers”: Search me. Break me. Use me. Send me. During the second week, he invited us to fast and pray with him. I joined in, and during that very week, I received not only the rejection from the Tennessee gallery, but also a final "no" from the last local event I’d hoped to attend.
Despite my disappointment, I chose to believe that God had answered. I spent the next two weeks feeling lost and unsure—but also open. Then, on the final Sunday of the sermon series, our pastor spoke about the last prayer: Send me. He said that if God has placed something on your heart, you don’t need to keep asking whether you should follow it—the answer is already yes. The light is always green.
That morning, something stirred in me. I felt a strong pull toward my lifelong passion: to help restore the value of art in Western culture—to call it back to the beauty, truth, and excellence it once reflected, now so often lost in the age of abstraction. But how? What could I do? I had no degree, no name in the industry, no formal training. I was just a self-taught artist with one toe in a door that now seemed shut.
And yet, the very next morning, I couldn’t shake it. I told Casey I needed to take some time to pray and reflect. I grabbed my prayer journal and my laptop, jumped in the car, and on that short 20-minute drive, I simply prayed, “God, I’m here. I’m listening. Show me what I’m missing.”
A Still, Small Voice
God's Ways Are Higher
And in that stillness, one word kept coming to me: Majesty.
Just that—Majesty. Again and again.
When I reached the coffee shop in Harrisonville, I sat down and began writing in my journal. I poured out my heart, asking God for clarity, trying to understand why this word wouldn’t leave me. And over the next three hours, the vision unfolded—so clearly, it was obvious that God had just been waiting for me to be quiet and listen—The Majesty Project.
I left that coffee shop with a loose business plan, a domain name, and a clear sense of direction. I even knew the first organization I was going to reach out to—which, incredibly, became our very first partner.
Words can hardly describe the whirlwind of the last four months. We began our non-profit, built our website, reached out to partners and donors, and applied for tax-exempt status. In that time, I’ve also drawn five pieces available for donation. It’s undeniable: God has been preparing The Majesty Project for a long time. He has been raising up the people involved—equipping them and positioning them—for such a time as this.
I’m deeply humbled and honored to sit in the passenger seat as God takes the wheel. I cannot wait to see what the next year, two years, five years bring. Watching Him carry this project forward has been more than I ever could have asked, dreamed, or imagined. But then again—isn’t that just how our God works?