Piecing Together My Story
Piecing Together My Story
Letting the art lead the way... and allowing for space
My art has always provided me with a bit of escapism. It allows me to focus on the present moment as I find a purpose for my myriad of thoughts. When I paint, I typically work fast to capture impulses built around years of training and experience - quickly adding layers of color, shapes, and marks to bring each piece into a balanced harmony.
More recently, though, as I’ve expanded into mixed media and collage art, my process has slowed and has opened me up to a broader perspective that has often left me paralyzed in the complexity and immensity of it all. I have opened myself to a more thoughtful dialog with my art, cataloged in hours of voice memos reflecting on the work and many boxes of various materials waiting to be contemplated.
To recapture some of the spontaneity of my painting, however, I’ve started creating quick little 5x7-inch collages of paper scraps and vintage materials. When I feel blocked or overwhelmed by my other projects, I find these pieces fill my creative soul while bringing solace to my overactive imagination. Used as a morning refuge, I cut, paste, and stitch while relying on my artistic instincts to process form and design. I have dubbed them my “BKind” series for many reasons - including how they reflect the kindness and space I offer myself to create unencumbered by worries, doubts, and insecurities.
I’m still sorting out what this all means for me, my art, and the story I want to tell. I have always found a connection with nature and the beautiful patterns, shapes, colors, and emotions that envelop me when I’m in the middle of it - experiencing the sounds of leaves rustling, rain patterning, birds singing; watching the sun rise and set, flowers bending with the weight of a bee, dandelion seeds taking flight, and wildlife spying me as I hope to spy them. Nature brings me immense joy and peace and I love sharing that in my art.
As I move through (past?) this middle stage of life, however, I find a need to understand and connect with the human experience more fully. I want to share the beauty, complexity, and fragility of heritage and family, memories and memorabilia, of living, existing, and dying.
It can be terrifying to create from a place of uncertainty and vulnerability after so many years of relative security. It’s hard to leave the safety of what I’ve known and then to do so at such a slow pace. I have a vision for where I want to go, but as I continue to work, the target is constantly moving and changing.
I am grateful that I continue to choose to create without knowing if I will ever find an end to this path. I only hope I can accept that it’s possible I may not.
I am also grateful that I’m more willing (and able) than ever to listen to my own heart. If I need more time, I take it. If I branch off in a new direction, I try to welcome it. If I feel overwhelmed and unsure, I reach outward to my community of family and friends to ground me. If I need feedback and support, I know I can find it in the amazing artists and art patrons who surround me.
In the acceptance of what I have been so fortunate to receive, there is also a determination to try to pay these many kindnesses forward. It is part of why I write “An Artist’s Notes” here on this Substack platform - hoping what I’ve learned will be helpful to others who follow or want to experience an artist's path in some small way.
Unlike painting, however, writing does not come easily or quickly to me. And while I have articles started on topics such as “going green art supplies” and “studio financial goals”, and poems waiting to be worked, I have not had the energy to finish them. In fact, I believe it’s time for me to take longer pauses here for a bit as I struggle with the insignificance of my work amid a world that is on fire.
Pausing my “weekly” Substack schedule
I hope to return to a mostly weekly schedule in the New Year, but in the meantime, I will try to offer a few interesting posts to finish up 2023 (look for my seasonal roundup of some of my favorite artists in December) along with random short notes with hopeful images from my archives.
And now that you’ve endured my rambling thoughts from these past couple of weeks (months? years?), I hope you will stay tuned for what’s to come!
Embracing the journey,
~ Jennifer