The challenges of creating
Liminal States: Beneath the Surface, Silvermine Guild Arts Center, New Canaan, CT
Creating art challenges me on every level: emotional, psychological, intellectual and even physical lately! It stretches me and continues to open doors and windows in my mind, pushes me to contemplate innumerable possibilities for each artistic idea, to problem solve and always ask “what if?” It is an often frustrating, endlessly stimulating, exhilarating, and ultimately satisfying endeavor. Creating the work is one thing. There is a vulnerability and presence necessary to be with and respond to the work in process. An openness to possibility. Putting the work out into the world for audience consumption demands a different mindset. As much as I want to share my work, as much as it delights me when it resonates with others, and as much as I want to see it living out in the world, there is a pervasive feeling of exposure and vulnerability once it leaves my studio. Living in a capitalist-based society where worth is equated with money and status, it is difficult to separate out how work is accepted, enjoyed and valued, from the price tag that's put on it. And yet once complete, I believe the work needs to find its way in the world, for its meaning to continue to develop through each viewer’s gaze.
Going online
Work in progress, Marking Time Series
During the pandemic, I watched with interest as many artists shifted to teaching online classes and opening e-commerce shops to showcase and sell their work. I had considered the possibility of adding a shop to my website and wrestled with the idea for several years. Before I could get to the practical questions and details of how this might work, I had to think about the act of selling itself. I had to decide that it was something I wanted to do, something that made sense for my work. It was not an easy decision at which to arrive.
Much like the decision to start this art blog, I went back-and-forth between the pros and cons, what I hoped for versus what I feared. It always came down to a feeling of vulnerability. Followed by the knowledge that most of all I wanted my art to find its audience. And so I began the process of making an online shop a reality.
“And yet once complete, I believe the work needs to find its way in the world, for its meaning to continue to develop through each viewer’s gaze.”
Then came the nitty gritty. So many decisions! What work to put on the shop site versus what would remain in galleries. Decisions about which work, what sales platform, quantity offered, framed or unframed, shipping and packaging, as well as the site’s ease of use. It was important to me not to overwhelm a visitor to the shop. It was equally important to honor and recognize all those that have been such strong supporters of my art over the years. Each decision begot another.
I am grateful to have Avery Syrig, fellow artist, friend, and also my main person in terms of executing all the technicalities of what I envision in my head. Avery moved my original website to Squarespace, set up The Memory Project website, edits and posts the images and text for the Studio Muse Blog. She also happens to have a good and practiced eye and is not afraid to use it nor give me critical feedback as necessary. I wrestled with the numerous decisions, bouncing around ideas with her and trusted others, and one by one the decisions got made.
Marking time
Marking Time 5, 2020 - 2021, thread, oak gall ink dyed teabag, 5.5 x 3.25 inches (unframed), 11.25 x 9.25 inches (framed)
The series I chose to lead with, Marking Time, is particularly engaging on a tactile and meaning-based level. During the pandemic when so much seemed tumultuous and beyond my control (as it continues to do), sitting each day composing, and stitching on these tiny teabag canvases reflected a resilience and stubborn insistence on hope, a belief that meaning matters, that art and beauty matters, that handwork and the individual matters. As time unfurled, I watched as my choice of colors and collage material shifted according to the season without my conscious awareness. How bits and pieces found their way in reflecting spring, summer, fall and winter. They became a catalog of my days, my walks, and my collected ephemera and insights. Each a witness to a moment in time.
I framed them identically in hopes that one day groups can be exhibited together. Museum glass allows each detail to be experienced without the glare of regular glass. The framing signals a consistency across the series that grounds the individuality of each artwork. The series reflects the dichotomy of monotonously hovering each day in a sort of limbo, while still facing life’s unique trials and tribulations.
I wanted these to shine both individually and as a group. I wanted the pricing to be accessible so those who truly connected to them could enjoy them every day in their own homes. As these details fell into place and the technical necessities were addressed and checked off my list, I allowed myself to get excited. To think with gratitude and anticipation of these little pieces of myself traveling out into the world and touching others, offering a moment of beauty, recognition and joy. Marching hand-in-hand with those hopes came the fears: vulnerability and an increased level of exposure, and the disquieting thoughts of and questions about previous decisions.
But I am here now with a launch scheduled for this week, and so in the same way I stitched, with bated breath and a stubborn insistence on resilience no matter what, I release these into the world to await the world’s response.
Shop the Marking Time Series
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