To Begin Again

“You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So get on your way!”

— Dr. Seuss

I decided that I get to clean my studio desk today. My creative space is all of 3 feet x 3 feet, and today I decided to make the most of it, instead of listening to the voices telling me what's the use of such a small space? So I cleaned, which means I'm really getting down to business, ha.

It's tender in here. I gently went through a muslin sack filled with old, dried up tubes of paint, the dog-eared books, now covered with a fine layer of dust finally get a dusting. I carefully wipe everything down and remember how good it felt to do this. How comforting time in the studio used to be, even when I didn't know what the heck I was doing, which was often.

I guess nothing much has changed. I still feel like I'm wandering around, figuring out my life. Maybe it will always be this way, this feeling of lostness and not knowing, or maybe I just like exploring and pushing the boundaries of my life so that I'm always coming up to the edges of what I know--I do love to learn. But it's a vulnerable feeling, this feeling of not being sure. Dancer and writer Agnes De Mille says, "Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next, or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark." Her words comfort me greatly as they resonate--all I can do is nod and moan at being known and understood so deeply.

In this creative space--do I dare call it a studio?--old dreams are still well and alive as the day I let them rest. I tread carefully, not wishing to startle them or wake them too quickly. But that they are all still here, still alive and playful--takes me by surprise and my spirit is within me, relieved and grateful. I sigh, more of an exhale than a sigh really, and begin again.

When We are Stingy with Ourselves

My dog radar is the most, bestest boi, loving and affectionate and so very generous with his wet doggy kisses, I can’t even! He will stick his paw directly on my chin, to turn my face just so and proceed to lick and groom me forever on end. He slathers me and he goes wwwaaaaaayyyyyyyy overboard, some would say, in his adoration and sheer love.

This week, as I was talking with my husband about starting up an art practice again, he strongly encouraged me. One thing lead to another and I ended up getting a new iPad so that I could try procreate and Photoshop that is now set up for iPads.

The absolute guilt I felt at the generosity of this gift—for no reason, other than to support my artist self—was enormous. I asked and was assured that full returns were doable, and so I saved my receipt and all of my packaging, just in case I couldn’t justify this purchase. I was stingy with myself even after I had made my purchase.

When I came home, Radar started grooming me. I mean, his was practically licking the skin off my face. By the end of my grooming session, I was overcome with laughter at his tenacious kisses and most of all, by his generosity—there is no holding back! And then “BOOM!”

It hit me! When am I this generous with my artist self (or whole self for that matter) E-V-E-R?! Almost never. And that’s when I decided to keep my new iPad. There is a steep re-learning and learning curve, and I am enjoying every minute of it, discovering again that to love ourselves generously is a good thing indeed. Woof!

On Starting Again

Learning to play with Procreate

Long ago, when I first started teaching, I slowly left graphic design and didn't pursue anything artsy for about a decade. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and so on...this was during my early days of discovering that I suffered from depression, and I was so, so low. I decided to take a ceramics class after school and I'm not exaggerating when I say it saved my life. Being in the studio, elbow deep in mud saved my sanity, my newly found teaching life and my whole-self. Along a meandering road, I found my way into illustration for a time, and lost my way again having headed back into the classroom full time.

It's been such and ebb and flow. I'm grateful to know that it is still always there, waiting beneath the surface to come to life again, and such a comfort to my thirsty soul.

I'm full of hope these days. Hopeful that I can find a way to write and art for the rest of my life, without all of these stops and starts. Hopeful that I can find my way back to a creative community again and hopeful that my best and most meaningful work is still ahead of me.