This Is The Work. Wading Through The Unknown
In which I make baby steps towards an ever-expanding version of myself and rely on faith to get there.
Art is not something that often pours out of a body or a mind. Only rarely does that magic happen, and when it does, it is like a blessing bestowed, a ray of light that shines out through the darkness, a ladybug that lands upon your hand. But mostly, the art is a commitment, a labor, a process. It is going into the studio or to your writing desk, day in and day out, working it again and again, until something emerges. It is about repetition, refashioning, reworking, reinvention.
It is messy and ugly at times. The bad work outweighs the good. The cuts littered on the floor, the cast off words somewhere in the ether of this computer, the journals filled with run-on sentences, and the sketchbooks full of half-baked ideas. Showing you those bits would leave you at a loss for words, because you would recognize that it was a work in progress, unfinished, incomplete.
I have tried to write this post so many times, I lost my original thread, danced around it, then circled back, searching for words that express what I am currently going through, hammering it out and grasping and reaching to get to the other side. Perhaps it was a miracle this morning then, when I sat down to try again, the words finally flowed.
This is the work though. The disordered bits that make no sense right now, the paintings scraped and begun again. And again. I hope the dots connect someday, somehow. I can honestly say I’ve never painted so much in my life and had so little so show for it.
How many times have I gone back to the drawing board, done another study, or walked away to clear my head? I have lost track. I am frustrated and elated all at the same time. I go from despair to rapture in the span of an hour.1
I want so desperately to know where I will land, what it will all look like, and how to do it. But I am not a person with a clear vision simply executing it with precision. And even if I did know how it turned out, would it help? I have to feel my way there regardless. I am more like a blind mouse nosing my way through the maze, hopeful that somewhere in there is a piece of cheese. I can almost taste it through my delirium, that salty bit of cheddary goodness.
I write all this, mostly to buoy my own psyche, my own fragile ego, from giving up. I am wandering around lost in the desert, but I can’t give up. Not yet, not when there is the hope of an oasis. Because, as I keep working the puzzle, I see elements of what I’m looking for - a passage here, a movement there, color combinations that sing, and paint strokes that feel alive.
“It’s happening!” I cry out, as I do a little dance when I make something that sings.
A small glimmer of hope before it all goes awry.
This is the work though, maddening and frustrating as it may be. And some days I make no progress, some days I’m pushed back up against a wall, and other days I just have to lay on the couch and forget about it all.
Sometimes the work comes in fits and starts. Sometimes you think you have it, but then it flies away. Sometimes a section makes sense, but the rest doesn't at all. And sometimes it works small, but it won’t scale up to full size.
And despite all that, despite the setbacks, the unknowns, the worry if it’ll all work out, I keep trying. The hardest part about it though, is not the work and not the hours in the studio. The hardest part is believing that it can be done at all, that I can do it - that we can do it.
Faith then, is perhaps what we need most right now.
These cold wax works will soon be available through Gallery MAR. Send them an email (info@gallerymar.com) so you’re on the list when they are ready.
What I’m Into This Week
Weathering Slow Read with Author Ruth Allen
I’m reading at least 4 books (maybe 6) concurrently, and one of them is Weathering by Ruth Allen. She also wrote Grounded, which was a present I gave to myself for Christmas. She’s basically doing a book club for her own book. It just started last week, and you can join anytime.
I’m thoroughly enjoying Alex Friedman’s Hot Tip substack. The snarky news roundup makes me laugh at least a couple times. I mean, you might as well laugh at the absurdity that is this dumpster fire of an administration.
This Email is an Instrument by Erik Winkowski
Damn this is good. I probably will send you every single one of this person’s substacks, because, damn. This is good.
Thank you dear husband for listening to the ramblings of a madwomen.
“…..bird by bird….” ❤️