It wasn't all a free flow of rainbows. I struggled at times in creative rut, and I learnt that those times were not for making good art, but for free play - experimentation and outlet of expression. Other times I persisted through stubborn works until I came out on top. While some paintings flowed and came together within a few hours, others took months of fiddling with until, at some point, deemed 'good enough to call done' and acceptance that it was time to move on. And then others never got finished, painted over, or completely transformed into something foreign from the original intention. Much like a few of my troubled relationships over that time, some were meant to fight for and others were meant to be valued as teachers. For the ones I had to put away I learnt to value the time spent with them, the roles they played for the time they were in my life, and the lessons that came from them. The paintings too.
Although made in the peak of a high cycle, this decision turned out to be among the most grounding of all my choices. It kept me accountable and taught me so much. It became the reason I didn't take on so many other projects, preventing over-commitment in those creativity surges that taunt me every so often. When everything felt so out of control, my studio became my safe place, and painting became the one thing that belonged to me and only me, nobody could take that from me. Completing paintings was a constant exercise in the confronting perfectionism. No painting is perfect. I will pick out flaws in every single one of my works. But I knew if I aimed for perfection, I would never be done. And I wouldn't have a single completed piece to hang in my show. An exercise in letting go.
Art-making has helped me build a relationship with my intuition. In life, trust in my inner guide has been a big barrier to really knowing myself. Throw anxiety and ego in there and it can be hard to decipher. When you lose touch with that voice you lose direction. You live according to others rules and you spend most of your time searching for purpose, happiness, and validation. It is an unstable thing to rely on others to guide you. Listening to my inner voice has become a major part of my growth, but I sometimes struggle to hear it, and often do not trust it. Building this trust has taken me through some pretty major trials this past year, through both loss and gain, and I can honestly say very much a work in progress. But in practicing this trust in safe spaces, such as through my art, has been very affirming. You see, if you try to make art with the sole intention of meeting specific expectations, creativity is stunted. For me it doesn't even wiggle. Knowing this I've had to work at creating intuitively and trust that the outcome will suffice. It is the artwork that I was able to immerse myself fully in process that I believe are my best works, my most expressive and the ones that bring out the deepest emotional reactions from the viewers. Recognizing the more I trust my decisions, through my heart rather than my head, the better my art becomes, the more powerful and in line with my vision it becomes.
Making my show a reality has been one of the biggest confidence boosts I've had in a long time. Since hanging my work in the gallery it has created a new energy that has propelled me through the month. For the first time in about three years I find myself craving physical exercise, trying new recipes, and getting more involved in community projects. I've been reacquainted with that vaguely familiar desire to venture beyond my comfort zone. My relationships are flowing, and I have never felt more supported by the people around me. I still have my challenges, mood cycles, grief, checked out days, battles with perfectionism, anxiety, and chronic pain...to name a few...but I somehow move through it all so differently. I would say the good days, even when I'm low, outlast the bad ones. These have been the toughest few years of my life. Yet I feel more fulfilled and in tune with myself than ever.
Tomorrow is my exhibit reception. People have been asking me all day how I feel about it and expressing their excitement in the shared anticipation. I've spent the day only finding half my breath. Perfectionism is whispering all the things I would like to do before tomorrow, paralyzing me into non-action. Countered by a voice telling me to trust in universe, the day will go as it is exactly meant to be and it will be great. Anxiety has me overwhelmed simply by the thought of being the center of attention in a packed venue of people who know me (perhaps a little more once they see my art). Excitement walks along its side in anticipation of the atmosphere that will be created through the collective energy of all the great people who choose to be there. So many feels, I've been unable to stay on top of the tension building up in my body. But ultimately, regardless of what I do between now and then, tomorrow will come and and tomorrow will go. And if I have learnt anything in this journey, it is the value of presence. To release the claws of all the fears and expectations and to just soak it in, every last drop. To value all parts of this experience, allowing myself to feel worthy of the joys of accomplishment, finding light in the challenge of making it through. To experience the offering I have created for others, and to celebrate all the support I have received along the way. Tomorrow feels like a big deal, as a mark in this pivotal period in my life, hard proof of the trust I have built with myself and others, and encouragement for what I move towards in the future.
