I was lost.
When I shut down the business aspects of Intramural Studio, I expected to jump right into a regular, unencumbered path of happily painting and expanding my body of work on my own terms. But, like most expectations, things failed to align the way I’d envisioned, and after a couple months of frustration and panic, I arrived at the realization that I was, indeed, truly lost. I was having trouble in the studio. The effort felt forced and the work stale and dead.
But, now I’m found.
The solution was discovered in my own studio journals from back in the early 80’s when I was first embarking on the unpredictable road of artistic life. Like many of us who keep journals, diaries and such, the value lies not necessarily in the words themselves, but in the very act of articulating one’s thoughts. Venting, wondering “aloud” and getting your thoughts out of your head and onto paper often acts as the perfect, safe relief for what ails you. I once had a co-worker who encouraged me down this paper path - she started her unsatisfactory job each day by composing a private, facetious “letter of resignation” in the morning. It was her own method of cheap therapy to help her cope with a less than ideal situation.
So, it was a bit of a surprise when, in perusing my early journals, I came upon words from the past that did indeed offer advice and guidance. Words about patience. Words about trusting oneself and actually just moving ahead with little or no plan at all. Leaving yourself open to the freedom and joy of discovery. It sounds a bit silly and obvious now, but I realized that over the years that I applied myself to commercial ends, I had so developed and honed the structure, process and compromise skills needed in that world that I was having difficulty remembering what it was like before. Before business plans. Before Creative Briefs. Before bookkeeping, meetings, emails, budgets and performance reviews. In short, I had forgotten how to play.
And play one must if one is to grow as an artist. Because when you play, truly play, you open yourself to the unexpected. The joy of finding a new way to express yourself and contribute to the art that you don’t even know is inside you. Play unlocks creativity. Play has no expectations and fears no failure.
And so off I go, into the playroom that is my studio. I’ve tucked away my oil paints for the time being and am looking into other toys. I’m casting resin, making marks with graphite chunks, collaging and working from inside my gut instead of my brain. It’s exciting…and though it could be scary, when you don’t think about it, it is freedom personified.
It’s all part of the journey. I can’t wait to see where it takes me.