It has been delicious to be back in the studio. I have dedicated a certain number of studio hours a week to complete current series like Marking Time and COVID Cost. The knowledge that these projects will be completed by Fall 2025 has eased my mind and has allowed me to use the rest of the studio hours to revel in the materials and the ideas that I have collected over the last couple of years.
After two years of frequent travel for family, and art related events, I find myself at loose ends having been pulled in many directions, physically and emotionally.
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.
Last month I returned from a residency at the Vermont Studio Center (VSC) in Johnson, Vermont. I greatly enjoyed my first experience there in November 2019 and looked forward to my return.
I was invited to exhibit work in the Moira Fitzsimmons Arons Art Gallery at the Hamden Country Day School (Hamden, CT). It's curator, Caryn Azoff, has had an integral part in creating a rich and wide-ranging art program, as well as a vibrant exhibition schedule rooted in both traditional and contemporary art. It is an unusual space in that its main wall is a large, curved surface facing a bank of glass windows and doors.
After the anticipation and intense work involved in mounting my solo exhibition, it came down at the end of May. I felt unable to dive back into my work. I was drained, listless, let down and had little desire to actively create.
As an artist working alone in my studio, being part of a larger art community is essential. I have been actively involved as a member of several cooperative art galleries, and supported other artists by attending openings, offering resources, trading and buying art. However, when I first learned about the International Encaustic Conference in 2011, I had never been away for multiple days solely for my art practice.
It happens every time. Even though I know it's coming. Even though I've experienced it before. It still creeps up on me… the post-solo slump. My work comes down. I drive past the gallery windows and see the empty walls. I feel a little anxious, decidedly blue, and somewhat at loose ends.