Scattered bits and pieces

This fall and winter, I traveled a great deal, unable to be in my studio for more than days at a time, for many many months. I found myself distracted, unfocused, jittery, and unable to sustain levels of concentration. I have experienced this at other points in my life. Life has its ups and downs, a roller coaster of highs and lows, quiet and overwhelm, focus and distraction. Non-art obligations, loved ones’ health and needs, necessary household projects can conspire to monopolize my heart and head. I am left with scattered bits and pieces of time which hampers my will and ability to let go and create.

Just keep working

I know artists who when emotionally distressed work through it in their art. Not so for me. I require a certain amount of emotional space before I can feel open and focused enough to roll up my sleeves and have the freedom to experiment, attempt new processes or embark on pushing my work forward. It is difficult to start working after a large break in my studio practice so I try to continue working even during travel or difficult times. It allows my head, heart, and body to remain connected to my studio practice even during times when I am feeling fragmented and disconnected from my larger art practice.

What that looks like for me is listening to audio books and podcasts while I keep my hands busy, burning abaca sheets for the COVID Cost project, stitching, and collaging on tea bag canvases for the Marking Time series, sewing together parts of Emergence (a larger additive aggregate installation), organizing the studio and sorting through paperwork, and identifying future goals. These are all manageable tasks that I can focus on in small bursts. This enables me, in these weeks and months of fractured time, limited focus and frequent travel, to continue steadily working towards my art goals.

Knowing it’s enough

Fall and Winter are not a bad time for this to happen. Much as the natural world draws inward, remains dormant, gathering resources to fortify life through winter, I marshal my limited time, energy, and focus. I take long walks to fill myself with visual inspiration and to experience breathing room and space for my wandering thoughts. I work in the garden when the weather permits. I break down projects and upcoming deadlines into bite size pieces and tackle them one by one.

Being a practicing artist for over 25 years I understand now that this is part of my art journey and practice. I trust that, as in the past, there will be a time when I am able to be in the studio for longer periods, have the energy and excitement to explore new materials and processes, and delve into projects now percolating on the back burner. Signs of spring emerge, and a more open calendar approaches. I can be patient. In the meantime, I find sources of inspiration, and moments of calm despite the frequent frenetic travel. I steadily commit myself to a manageable daily art practice. And know that for now that is enough.

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