
Life is strange.
It's quite uncomfortable and at the same time, exciting in other areas. There's been much risk-taking in the last 6 months which has opened up some new doors and shown me how other areas are closed tight. I've been trying to honor the grief by mourning closed-off areas while not allow it to paralyze me too much and continue to move forward.
Last week in the studio I began a new series.
For a few months now, I've hit a really black place with my work. Although it's a mindset I haven't touched in almost twenty years, it's the place that before then, each time I encountered it, I'd put away my paints.
From the time I was a child until about 1994, the hunger to paint would be felt and I would do so. After a while, I'd always become wracked in debilitating doubts and would stop for a few years until I'd wake hungry and have to paint again. My formal art training happened in fits and waves….enrolling and quitting a year later….to then return to it. Such was my life. In '94, I woke up and knew I needed to push myself…therefore spending the next three years completing the degree program.
Back east, I had an extra room which became my studio and painted all the time. Once I arrived in Seattle, I didn't paint as often as I desired due to lack of space, but would take vacation time to paint. After my sabbatical in early 2006, through much hard work with my therapist, I began working with a new drive. Committed to creating a practice, it was exciting and frustrating and scary and sexy and powerful and vulnerable.
I came to learn that after a productive spell, there would be a slight drought. With time, I learned that it was a resting place. No great ideas...but I'd go in and work. Move my hand. There were also doubts and it was scary but manageable. Within three to four weeks inspiration would return and I'd paint. It was another season in my garden.
At the beginning of June, I sensed the dry time return. But this time, it was different - familiar and old. Ancient black clouds loomed low over the horizon threatening to consume me. My thoughts screamed I was a farce. I really can't do this. I'm fooling people. A fucking goddammed imposter. Who did I think I was…daring to have a studio…daring to make a mark and call it art…daring to think that I had anything worthwhile to say?
In early July, I came very close to giving up my studio space and quitting, as I used to do when I was younger.
What was unique this time was that I recognized the black. Remembering the words of my former leather Mentor, I became the observer. He used to say that while feeling big feelings, also pretend I was the scientist and observe them. They are valid and need to be gone through but try to keep a part of my mind clear. With his words in my head, I imagined myself wearing a labcoat and holding a clipboard. In a Sigmund tone of voice I said "hmmm, isn't it interesting..." With that little bit of detachment the next thought was "isn't it interesting that as I am getting closer to tapping into a surer painting language these ugly doubts are making themselves known...screaming at me to quit."
In that, I knew perseverance was needed. Move forward.
With the sage advice of another artist, I took an intentional three weeks off from the studio. In the past, if I didn't go in it was because I'd be away, or work was busy, or I'd be sick, or something. And there would be a fair amount of guilt and many "shoulds". This time, I committed to no studio with no guilt. When relaying that to another artist I admire here in town, whose critiques I value, he smiled and said "that's a bold move." A little pride swelled in me at hearing his words.
The weekend before flying to NYC, I woke with a new direction for the work. Last week I began. This time, I don't plan on showing work in progress. That may change as I get further along, but right now, I'm keeping it private. Even at art walk, I made sure to put away the drawings.
These black doubts have yet to go away even though I've begun the new work. Each time I step into the studio I'm still filled with despair but am stubbornly trusting it is only fear that is trying to trip me up. So I keep on keepin' on.