One Person Group Show 2022
Here is an updated version of my post from exactly one year ago. Not much has changed. At the end of this post I’ll add a couple of new pieces, just to show I haven’t been completely non-productive.
From February, 2021:
The semi-isolation with this pandemic has done something to change my art process, and I’m not yet sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing.
At first I thought all this solitude would allow me the freedom to explore everything under the sun without concern for the outcome. But with freedom comes a certain amount of paralysis — at least it does for me. I still share some of my experiments on social media, but when I look at them, there’s little rhyme or reason. I keep arriving at the same dead end. There are some botanical sketches, a few little colorful doodle abstracts, some gelli prints, and some collage. Together they feel disjointed and scattered. I am my own one-person group show.
February 2021, continued:
I have done several commissions over the winter, which make me grateful to my collectors. They included a couple of florals, a winter landscape, and several pet portraits. I’m not sure they count as stepping stones in a new direction. But maybe they are, in a way. I would love to do more pet portraits, but with my own personal stamp on them somehow. Perhaps more vibrant colors? We’ll see. Within the next couple of weeks, spring will be here in all its glory. I was looking through my sketchbook from last spring and summer, and am more than ready to get some color back into my palette.
Update from February 9, 2022 – a few recent artworks. I hope you’ve stayed creative throughout this challenging time. Are you ready for a change? I know I am.
A One-Person Group Show
The semi-isolation with this pandemic has done something to change my art process, and I’m not yet sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing.
At first I thought all this solitude would allow me the freedom to explore everything under the sun without concern for the outcome. But with freedom comes a certain amount of paralysis — at least it does for me. I still share some of my experiments on social media, but when I look at them, there’s little rhyme or reason. I keep arriving at the same dead end. There are some botanical sketches, a few little colorful doodle abstracts, some gelli prints, and some collage. Together they feel disjointed and scattered. I am my own one-person group show.
I have done several commissions over the winter, which make me grateful to my collectors. They included a couple of florals, a winter landscape, and several pet portraits. I’m not sure they count as stepping stones in a new direction. But maybe they are, in a way. I would love to do more pet portraits, but with my own personal stamp on them somehow. Perhaps more vibrant colors? We’ll see.Within the next couple of weeks, spring will be here in all its glory. I was looking through my sketchbook from last spring and summer, and am more than ready to get some color back into my palette.
When Did You Stop Making Art?
When did you stop making art? Was it in elementary school when you decided everyone was better at it than you, and you didn’t want to risk being embarrassed or humiliated? Or was it that time when the teacher looked at your masterpiece and told you that trees weren’t supposed to be purple, or to please color inside the lines? Or maybe it was on the day that you painted a picture of the most beautiful butterfly imaginable, only to have a significant adult ask you “What is that?”
If they come early enough in life, these experiences can become voices in our heads that stay with us long after we become adults. Even further along the way, we are discouraged from pursuing art because it’s not considered a serious part of our development, a viable part of a set of problem-solving skills, or a respectable way to make a living.
If you’re being honest, there was quite possibly a time in your life when you were discouraged from creating art because you became convinced you weren’t “talented.”
Lately I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the concept of talent. I know it’s a real thing sometimes, but I also believe it’s used as a way to stop creativity in its tracks. So just for today, I would like for you to eliminate the word “talent” from your vocabulary. I would love it if you would just find a way to make something beautiful completely without self-criticism or judgment of any kind. Get messy. Smudge the lines. Throw on some color. Do it for the joy of creating something that didn’t exist before. Do it knowing you don’t have to show it to anyone. Then do more of that. I promise you will discover a spark you didn’t know was there. You might decide it’s worthy after all. And because you made it, the world will be a more beautiful place.
Finding Joy in the Midst of Uncertainty
It might seem frivolous to write a blog post about making art right now, in a world full of uncertainty and fear. I’ve wanted to say just the right things that might be uplifting or helpful, instead of just making happy talk.
But it’s not frivolous at all. We need beauty now more than ever. We need the meditative healing that creativity can provide. Drawing, painting, singing, dancing, baking bread, digging in the dirt — all are things that can save us from despair at the sadness all around us. We need to practice at least some of them every day.
I haven’t done much painting, except for a large series of birds in watercolor that I had started in preparation for an Earth Day event, which was to include a solo show at the public library. I had even ordered frames and table-top easels, because there would not be any wall hanging space. Many of these are already framed, waiting for the day when we can hold the event, which is now tentatively planned for October. I have my doubts whether that’s going to even be a possibility. So in the meantime, here is part of my bird show.
But what has brought me great joy were the flowers in early spring . . .
And sketching in the park when the weather warmed . . .
And just like every other person in the country, I’ve baked bread.
I hope you are finding ways to create joy in your own world.
Looking for My Inner Child
The holidays came and went just like that, didn’t they? For the first time ever, I didn’t put up my tree, and it felt so good. I still draped the top of my china cabinet and the mantel with lights and some garland, and that was that.
Then a quick trip to Florida over New Year’s to celebrate with some of my kids, grands, and greats. And here is where it gets especially fun. One of the moms shipped watercolors, brushes, and paper ahead so we could have some art time, and we did it all at a table outside. It was glorious. How I love kids’ art. They have a fearlessness and freedom that we lose at some point as we get older, and then we struggle to regain that same spark.
My favorite time of the year is now, after the holidays, when there’s not much going on out in the wider world. It’s a nice, quiet, creative time for dreaming, sketching, and just letting my inner child play with ideas.
My watercolor classes are back after a 2-week break, and everyone is glad to be back in “therapy.” We all miss it when there’s no class. I want to push them a little bit this year to try to open up and be more free. We’ve spent a lot of time just getting to know a bit about the medium, and each one has his or her own way of approaching it. It’s been interesting watching that unfold. There are the ones who are perfectly happy being loose and free, and then there are a couple of perfectionists who still want their work to be more like a photograph. I think you may know where I fit in: loose and free is my eventual goal. But it’s funny how a new medium forces one to go through baby steps before feeling brave. At least that’s what has happened with me. Please, Goddess, let me learn by watching the children.
An Artist's Journal 