Westward Movement
When June arrived, the exciting novelty of paid leave quickly waned and I was left with a rather suffocating paralysis, unable to move any part of my life forward. Even painting felt silly (what was any of it for anyway?) and walking around the city was a constant reminder of all that was no longer possible. It was a dry yet saturated wash of anger that pervaded my thoughts and dictated my interactions. Recognizing the need for new air, I headed westward for a two week road trip.
The morning I left I felt immediate levity as I watched the Washington Monument disappear in my rearview mirror. It was movement, it was acceleration; I was going somewhere with a goal that could be met with a simple 5-9 hours of driving. Of course the road brought its fair share of fears and frustrations with torrential rain and lonely tick-infested campsites, but I was moving and that’s all that seemed to matter.
My final destination was Taos, New Mexico, a small town an hour and a half north of Santa Fe, that historically attracted colonies of artists and writers. While I did not feel an immediate draw to most of the art there (too many of the same muted landscapes through the eyes of hippie retirees) the time became more of a reconnection to myself.
One afternoon I went to the Harwood Art Museum and felt oddly emotional seeing an exhibit displaying elementary school students’ work inspired by abstract artists. One in particular stood out to me: an interpretation of “Taos Mountains” painted in tempera by 6th grader Damika. It’s the playful chaos of color and freedom of movement in the lines that made me feel both whimsy and melancholy. When did I lose this looseness for life, or did I ever have it in me? Was a mountain to me only ever something to climb and conquer? What if I had been taught it can also simply stand as curly strokes of blues and yellows and reds? As I stared at the painting, I thought about how long I sidelined creativity in pursuit of conquering all these mountains I was told to climb. After all this time, I did make it to the top only to find there was no view. So now as I look at Damika’s mountains, all I want to do is slide along those chaotic lines and dizzy myself in the flurry of color and find liberation in every one of my movements.
“Our focus…is for students to find ‘their own special way to be the artist they already are.’ …One student told me upon arrival that they knew exactly what they were going to make for the museum. After they selected an ‘inspiration’ piece, I asked if their vision had changed at all (it had not). And who am I to question the artists?” -Molly Casey, Education Coordinator
I am so grateful for this time away.
I am grateful for the moments of solitude in beautiful places, to my dog, Moosey, for taking me out on sunset walks in the middle of nowhere; for the space to paint for hours while the pink sky turned purple, and for the brief chats with people like Angie (pictured below) to remind me that other kinds of life are possible. I returned recentered and realigned, and ultimately ready to embrace this next chapter with the warmth and excitement it deserves.
Posing for me in her studio, Angie Coleman is a woodblock printer who finds inspiration for her vibrant prints on hikes throughout NM. Originally from Chicago, she has lived in Taos for the past 40 years.
Moments of silence and solitude, Palo Duro Canyon State Park, TX
My sweet girl, low key hating all the hot hikes I dragged her on, Rio Grande Gorge, NM
A walk in the middle of nowhere, Somewhere, KS
The best VRBO for creative nights, Taos, NM
With the many days spent driving, I wanted to share a few podcasts I particularly enjoyed:
Fresh Air - Ocean Vuong Sees Himself More As A Teacher Than A Writer
Fresh Air - Painter Titus Kaphar on ‘Exhibiting Forgiveness’
Immaterial: 5,000 Years of Art, One Material at a Time - Paper
If you listen to any or all, I’d love to hear what you think!
From the notebook
When I was 25, a life goal emerged: to illustrate and write a memoir/fictional narrative to make tangible my relationship with my Korean mother and contextualize the life she may (or may not) have lived. For six years I have been sitting on this idea, waiting for my technical skills to somehow emerge. But these big things don’t just happen–I have to start somewhere. So, despite not being satisfied with my current abilities, I have faith that these initial drafts will, over the decade I have given myself to complete this project, evolve into the work I have always imagined. It is a story within me that I feel driven by duty to create more than anything else. I trust I will find what it takes to get there.
I hope to continue sharing the rough drafts as they emerge and use this space as accountability for forward progress!
Creative Engagement
Last month I asked you all what insignificant thing(s) brings you joy. My favorite response is below:
The question for August is:
What would you title your autobiography?
WIP
I have begun my reimagined Mona Lisa and it’s giving me grief! My intention here is to find a way to engage more with art history. Western art doesn’t look like me, and Eastern has an absence of human study, focusing more on landscapes and animals. I guess this is an attempt to blend the two together. I’m unsure if the execution will result in anything meaningful, but I’m sticking with it… for now.
July recap
Here is a picture of me and myself at the artist reception! It will be on display until the 10th!
At the Athenaeum Gallery, Alexandria, VA
And finally, I made a For Sale page! Please peruse at your leisure.
Thank you as always for your readership! Your engagement and support mean the world to me!