Talking about one’s art comes naturally to some. The desire to intellectualize and justify acts of creation is a fundamental piece of the puzzle. People want to see purpose, being is not enough. Intention is the meat of the visual sandwich, and these patrons are ready to be served. We are human beings, not human doings, though. My go to phrase is “If I were good with the words, I wouldn’t need the pictures.” In so many ways this is true for my lived experience in a plethora of arenas, not just through the prism of my art practice. When I was a child, it was called being painfully shy or backward; as a teenager it was called sullen or moody. Mastery of written language can’t always translate to oral proficiency. The autistic need to over explain in desperation to be understood is off putting most of the time or considered rude. Succinct is the name of the game. And yet, how many words equal a line, a brush stroke?
I realize I write a lot about my struggles with work around the art instead of the art. The responsibility of creation. This is where I battle. I don’t fight with the art, I don’t get worried or upset when I haven’t created in a few weeks. I know myself and my way of moving through this world enough to know the ebb and flow and not panic when the muse is taking a nice walkabout. It is the CV and artist statements and submissions and follow up and emails and drop offs and pickups and hangings and people.
In the last decade I have been blessed with meeting, working and hanging beside so many talented and kind artists and curators. Slowly I am getting better at articulating AND owning my silence. My work centers on finding connection by documenting my experience, as a woman, a mother, a part of nature, a neurodivergent and chronic migraineur. If an artist can sign post, say here is where I was, where I am, it gives other humans the chance to see something familiar or to broaden their experience. To find connection in a way that cannot be wrong, misunderstood or misconstrued.
I’ve had a busy fall exhibition wise. I’ve spent a lot of time in the past month talking about my work, whether at show openings or during interviews (I did a studio interview!) and although uncomfortable it feels good in hindsight. Like Yin yoga. When you rest in the discomfort you realize how letting go, releasing, allows you to be flexible.