(originally published july 27, 2022 via my Buy Me A Coffee page)
It's sort of wild to think I've closed in on two weeks today. It's been an absolute whirlwind of a time (good, stretching, and very very exhausting).
During the first week and a half of my time in the studio I had been sharing a wall, and AC via an open door with a dance troupe. It was really fascinating to walk past and see how they create so much beauty with their bodies and form. Additionally, it also became sweet to see familiar faces every day. It did, however, become a bit challenging considering their practice music was set at performance volume and I quickly realized that in the last nine years of painting I've been creating alone, in silence, or my own music, with some sort of control of my environment. I had to learn to adapt (& show up on Saturdays when I knew I would be able to sit and think in silence).
Silence, quiet, stillness, slowing down has to be fought for these days. I've been making the trek from Brooklyn to Manhattan to Jersey City about 4 to 5 days out of the week, and as vibrant and bustling as these cities are, it's been a trek, both physically and on the senses. The background and foreground noises build on top of each other quite quickly. Honking, construction, passionate conversations, music pulsating through multiple speakers, so many different languages being spoken. I'm learning that I'm going to need to find more intentional ways to breathe and process all that goes around me and within me everyday. But I've so enjoyed taking in the historical and exquisitely detailed architecture along the way. I could walk the neighborhoods all day long if I could.
these brownstone details!
many miles away from my record player but still need to build the collection. found this Stevie album at Black Star Vinyl in Brooklyn
sculptural art found at Brooklyn Bridge Park
In the studio
The separation of home and studio has had a great positive impact on my ability to focus and see work through a little further and quicker than when I was creating at home. There are two larger pieces I'm working my way around, and a new idea I'm playing with on the side. Since I'm not painting on stretched canvas (canvas tightly stretched and stapled on a wood frame), I've had to give the larger paintings more patience than I would otherwise since I can't freely hang up, lay out, flip and turn the art as quickly had they been stretched.
I needed a process that was more tactile. A process that would allow me to construct, destruct, and be more attuned to the energy I needed to release. The forever buzzing energy of all the cities I walk through everyday. These small constructed paintings have been a great start for me and a helpful way to continue creating with a different part of my brain as the larger pieces lay on the floor or hang on the wall behind me.
I'm really excited about where these are headed. My aim is to complete one every week I'm here
Here's a short clip of some studio & life moments of my second week. While checking out an event at the Brooklyn Bridge Park I definitely had a "wow, I can't believe I get to live here" moment.
As the questions and doubts, maybe even a bit of loneliness begin to creep in, this excerpt quote has been encouraging.
“Do it; don’t judge it. The longer you do creative work, the more you realize mood has nothing to do with it. Artists are life processors. Life processors cursed with opinions. One day, we’ll like what we create. One day (more days), we will hate it. Keep on making things long enough and you will learn, to your embarrassment, that the good work and the bad are often not so far apart. In fact, some of your bad work looks pretty good. And some of your good work, well…
So you might as well just do it, and do it stubbornly, and do it all the time. Because mood is a slippery thing and what it tells you cannot be trusted—but process can. And process is the reward of patience.”
“Don’t confuse the end result with the process. Process is what gives us credibility. Just process. (And, yes, process takes patience.) As creative beings we must learn, and therefore practice, patience.
I do not mean passivity, which is frequently mistaken for patience. It is passivity that tells us not to fight for our work. It is passivity that takes “no” for a final answer. Passivity is exactly that: pass-ive. We take a pass on growth on our own behalf. Patience is very different. Patience is not the acceptance of weakness. It is the quiet, slow, deep funding of strength.”
—Julia Cameron, “Vein of Gold”
Thank you for your support
Thank you for being here
-A
