March has definitely lived up to its stigma of coming in like a lion. I started the month in a different state, home and studio and while I am deeply inspired by my new surroundings, moving has definitely shaken up my studio practice and “flow”.
Out with the old! My previous studio - now empty
My new views!
I am hard on myself when it comes to producing work or getting back into the studio and this time has been no exception. I tend to believe that I should always be creating or that I’m not making enough or working hard enough on my craft. The cycle becomes a loop and I sometimes find myself not getting anything done, because I am spending more time questioning the work than actually making.
My natural inclination is to assume that I am a machine - with energy constantly flowing and the ability to produce no matter what the circumstances. My routine in grad school typically followed this structure: go to bed at 6AM, wake up at 9, write a paper, go to class or commute to work, make art, party, rinse and repeat. While I have calmed down over the past 3 years, I am still relearning how to take care of myself and how to manage my expectations.
Painting machine in 2015
Painting machine in 2017
Moving adds another layer of complexity to this. We moved twice in less than six months during the pandemic - once from Los Angeles to Atlanta and again from Atlanta to Nashville. While the initial move fueled several series of paintings, the second leg has been a slower burn. During March, I completed three commissions that I am proud of along with three smaller works, yet I have been more focused on adjusting to a new living space. Ideas are still brewing, but they aren’t translating as readily as I normally expect and I find myself feeling impatient more than inspired.
Recently “completed” work from March 2020
Working hard in the studio
New silk moon pieces
I think this is a common cycle for a lot of creatives, as we battle recurring imposter syndromes or our scathing inner critics. One day we are brilliant and prolific, then the next we find ourselves paralyzed by a creative block. It is hard to say whether my best work comes out in times of pure adrenaline or times of peace (I think I’ve seen both work to my benefit). Yet the further I get in my journey as an artist or human, the more I realize the importance of quieting my mind to generate new ideas even during moments when I feel blocked. This is always easier said than done, but hopefully by putting the intention out there, I can keep reminding myself of this core truth.
