These past couple of years, I’ve allowed my art to sit in a stew of rot.
Don’t get me wrong — I’ve made lovely art, fun art, and worthwhile art. I’ve made art for fairs and festivals and folks, and everything I’ve made has come out as a pleasant gift or pleasing addition. When I’ve sat down, the art I’ve produced comes naturally and easily and expectedly. I haven’t been subject to extremes of emotion, crippling self-doubt, or fear…and that, really, is a big problem.
Where my art is concerned, I’ve been on this easy, people-pleasing path that requires very little of my true self, my great ambitions, or my potential for catastrophic and heartrending failure.
And that’s where I’ve gone all wrong…because I can’t do when my best work I’m not afraid. When I’m not brave. And I haven’t been either in my art (my writing is a different story).
I often feel like the Queen of No Commitment, which I know may not make sense looking from the outside in, but even with my health limitations, I am capable of so much more and I haven’t been committing myself to those possibilities.
Bravery — real and true and honest bravery — feels like fear, and I need to let that sort of bravery-fear guide me. While I’ve enjoyed the art I’ve created these past few years, it hasn’t pushed me beyond the comfort of creating. It’s like investing everything into playtime without any element of curiosity or challenge — pleasing, sure, but definitely not life-expanding. And I want my art to be life-expanding…and recently it hasn’t been.
The problem is: I haven’t been afraid of what I’m making.
The problem is: I have all the plans and supplies for more involved, difficult, and challenging creations and have let them gather dust rather than venture into this new, scary unknown.
The problem is: I’ve gotten very comfortable in stagnation.
The problem is: I haven’t made art in alignment with my values.
Thankfully, the solution is easy.
Going forward, I will focus on art that is in alignment with my values: this means when it comes to my ceramics, I will only be making sculptures — no more functional ware like mugs, plates, etc. (which means if you want one of my book mugs, this is your last chance to grab one — I’ll be posting a studio clean out on February 13th). Functional ware isn’t where my joys or talents sing, so I will be abandoning those distractions.
I will ensure I have community support: I’ve joined an exclusive maker’s community for support and encouragement — I’ve had such a community for my dog training life for a while now and can’t imagine being without it, but the pandemic interrupted the art community I was building and I’m only now stepping back into it. The other part of my community is here with you! And I mean to create a fun space for you here as well.
I will follow my guiding schedule: for the last few months I’ve been creating a daily schedule that allows me to meet all my writing, art, dog, and other life goals without overwhelm (believe me when I say it was a staggering task because *wow* do I have ambition). It’s finally in a place where it’s working! So if I stick to it, you’ll be seeing a lot of exciting developments in this corner.
I will cut out what doesn’t serve: this part feels a little more ambiguous because it’s going to be so gut-led, and I suppose I could have said listen to my gut, but really, this part is a matter of refinement…ruthless refinement. I expect this area to be one of roller coaster adventures.
This may mean my work comes out very, very slowly, as I intend to take whatever time each piece wants so it can appear in the world the way it needs to. Far from a perfectionist pursuit, this is an act of softening — a way of creating not beholden to sales or likes or any other external metric our society currently pushes.
I am softening, becoming gentle, and my work will reflect the care and time this takes. I hope to tell you stories as I journey through this new space — I’ve already started with a few notes here and on social media: little thoughts and snippets that I hope help you soften, sweeten, and slow down too.