Rewinding Forward
The transition to Minneapolis has been an ongoing challenge, so please pardon my absence last month! I’ve been taking many pauses throughout the past weeks to evaluate and reevaluate how I can best settle into this very different pace of life.
When I first moved in, I spent so much time and money prioritizing my studio space: a new drafting table, printed photos and prints in glass frames, wooden floating shelves to hold my memorabilia, pens, paints, and brushes. Having a dedicated space for creativity felt sacred, and it needed to feel wholly me, for me. But once the shelves were mounted and pictures were hung, I sat at my table for a few afternoons at most, trying to paint. For the first time, the best gift I have ever been given gave nothing back. For weeks, canvases and wood panels lay lifeless on the surface of my table, with ghosted outlines of unfulfilled shapes. They never called out to me as if they, too, had lost something innate. It wasn’t that I was out of practice, or lacking in ideas. It’s that painting has a way of pushing me to new heights, of challenging me to push my technical abilities and finesse my visual expression. But since moving to Minneapolis, that energy has felt as slow as the 7:30am traffic on 35W for absolutely no fucking reason.
I didn’t feel a sense of urgency to figure out why, or a way to push through. Subconsciously, I even started to avoid my studio space when I could: if working from home I’d take my computer to the couch or dining room table, only going in if I had calls with my coworkers, friends, or therapist. Every once in a while, I’d glance into the room as I lay watching TV, wondering when I’d feel the urge to paint again.
A few days ago I came across this post on Instagram from artist Antonia Pang: “Do you know how strange it is to feel completely unmoved by things that once inspired you so much? It felt like a long-term friend while still holding hands - remembering our past, yet unable to imagine a future together… I searched for explanations for the burnout, thought that would make me feel better about my defeat. Then I realised that I was alone in this battle, it was me against myself. I COULDN’T WIN OR LOSE. The only way through was to move forward. This thought freed me. Baby steps.”
Reading her words, I felt validated to admit I felt defeated in many ways, too. It made sense; painting has always been a loud celebration of self, and I have felt neither loud or celebratory for quite some time. As I zoomed in and out on the illustrations in her notebooks, I thought not of painting but remembered my own illustrated memoir project. Instead of chiding myself for the little progress I’ve made, it dawned on me that maybe this is the perfect time and place to embark more deeply on this endeavor. Illustrations serve as a vehicle for retrospective storytelling and as a fervent driver toward the future, it has been hard for me to prioritize time dedicated to reflecting on the past. So maybe amidst this natural lull in painting, now is the time to reconnect with my younger self, to feel again my questioning and becoming in the place that raised me.
So much of this move has felt like a fall backward. It’s far from the communities I’ve built and intentionally sought, and quite contrary to the career path I’d imagined. I came here with an open mind, hopeful that a place can change too. But the past few months have affirmed that change is indeed slow, and the changes I’d hoped for maybe aren’t what Minnesota wants for itself. That’s okay, too. So instead of trying to replicate the life I had before, I want to embrace this rewind in time to push this project forward. This fills me with a sense of purpose for the first time since moving.
I took my first baby step forward last night and removed the half painted canvases and wood panels off my table and put them into storage. They are out of sight but not far from reach. Once the table was cleared, a breathable surface emerged. I wheeled my chair over to the table with my notebook and laptop and sat down. In front of me, the window reflected the back wall. I stared at myself, also in reflection, for a minute or two, and admired the arrangement of paints and brushes that floated along the wooden shelves behind me. I redirected my gaze to my notebook and laptop that sat ahead of me and started to write.
From the notebook
One evening after work I stopped by my parents’ house to pick up a few photo albums and my old journals from high school. They are already proving to be huge assets for both building narratives and familiarizing my hand with the characters of my youth.
WIP
Despite the hiatus from painting, my hands are staying busy. Before leaving DC, one of the things I dreaded most was saying goodbye to my beloved ceramics classes at Material Things. I dramatically proclaimed, “There won’t be another studio like it!” While there are many aspects of it I miss, I am so happy to have found a wonderful studio in downtown St. Paul, a block away from my office. Working solely independently, I now have the creative freedom *and financial responsibility* of choosing my own clays and glazes. I’m testing out my love for color and pattern on simple forms for now, and even flirting with the idea of potential business ventures. Stay tuned!
Media Musings
This month was the Minneapolis International Film Festival. I saw four movies and while I highly recommend all of them, Renoir rose to the top as one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful movies I’ve seen in a while. Semi-autobiographical, it follows an 11 year old girl trying to make sense of her loneliness as her father dies from cancer. The director brilliantly focuses on the sensory details we vividly recall from youth while weaving in events and magical elements on a nonlinear timeline to invoke the feeling of memory, escapism, and our inability to decipher what’s real versus fiction.
Planet Money: Inside a Book Auctionand Our BOOK vs the global supply chain: My friend recommended these two podcasts and they were fascinating! While I generally know little about the world of books, it didn’t feel like a typical discussion about the publishing or printing process. It discussed major considerations for writers, readers, bookstore owners, agents, publishing companies, etc. that would never have crossed my mind.
April whereabouts
In lieu of the grid:
First ever double bloom!
Retail therapy: return or keep?
Lake life
Daily home improvements
Ribs for babies
Awakening teenage angst
