Finding new rhythms
One of my favorite mementos is a Thangka painting I bought from a Buddhist artist when I went to China for the first time. I was immediately drawn to the bright hot reds and oranges and the intricate miniscule patterns. The fine motor skills to create such precise detail was inspiring–I was obsessed. In many ways, this painting marked the precursor to my current rhythmic aesthetic.
The patterns in my current work are predominantly inspired by and adaptations of Korean dancheong, paintings typically found on the ceilings of temples and palaces. I love how their simple geometric shapes, when arranged and colored with intention, create narratives of culture and identity, and a visual tempo that frees my eyes to pulse and dance across flat surfaces. They are busy but calculated–a controlled movement–and while they are confined to the space on which they visually exist, they can extend into an infinity where I know exactly what will happen beyond the canvas.
While my obsession with expected patterns serves me well creatively, off the canvas I am fluttering to find new rhythms in my own life: Last month I quit my government job and bid farewell (maybe forever?) to a career in public service. I’m now in this odd space of absolutely loving my day to day yet navigating the weight of an unknown next chapter. As much as I’d like to fall back on the blueprints of conventional life paths, my intuition is telling me to stop repeating the same perfectly aligned hexagons and concentric circles to think creatively about how to build the life I’ve always wanted. When the unknown becomes overwhelming, I remind myself what a gift of time I have been given to slow down and fall back in love with the purpose of what my life can be.
From the notebook
With my birthday upcoming, it was good timing when Nancy Floyd popped up for me in a New Yorker article from a few years ago. Photographing her every day unedited for decades, her work is a raw chronicle of the people and places that make up her memories and depict life and loss through the movement of time. Another year older, I’ve been thinking about my own memories, how they make up my essence, yet how many of them I’ve already lost.
Despite my dislike for iPhone photos, I always want to preserve moments in a meaningful way. I fantasize about decades of sketchbooks filled with the places I’ve traveled, slow moments with loved ones, or observations of strangers as evidence of the time and space that captured me. But I have to start somewhere. This brings me to my new challenge: sketching from real life (it’s way harder than you may think!).
I’m mustering up the habit of carrying a sketchbook with me everywhere I go and seeking out overpriced coffee shops with subpar matcha lattes for the plethora of faces and subjects they offer. It’s particularly challenging when my initial drawings are abysmal and bring no sense of satisfaction in the end result. But I’m following the Addictive Sketcher’s advice to be patient with myself and, as much as I may want to, to refrain from ripping out pages from my various notebooks–they’ll eventually show progress. For now, all I can say is it’s truly humbling.
How do you chronicle big and/or small moments in your life? Share with me!
WIP
Last month felt a bit chaotic at times to prep for the market and make substantial progress on my current commission (see below).
While I love creating work for sale, I am looking forward to spending time focusing on my own work this month. Nothing is actually “in progress” yet, but the ideas are in my head. Here is a painting we all know well that will serve as the inspiration for my next piece.
A brief recap of May:
The Samasama Pop-Up Market was another success this year! The weather miraculously cleared just in time to welcome the crowds—I love being part of this community!
Thank you as always for reading, and a warm welcome to new subscribers.