I’ve spent two weeks walking by the studio, seeing the sun glistening inside cheekily, and walking right on – the friction getting stronger each day as I didn’t go in. The longer you don’t do something, the harder it is to step back in.
As I say this, I think about sana from a year ago, who didn't even have a studio or feel the need for one. I am reminded of all the ways I structured my life – filled it with busyness – to avoid the things that truly gave me joy.
The friction is something I’ve heard a lot of from other artists, and everyone has their own tools and techniques to overcome it. From a recovering perfectionist like me, it’s crucial to not rely on guilt, or shoulds, when re-entering the sacred space I call my studio – shaming myself never helps me make the work I want to make.
I use that energy of stuckness and transmute it into play
To push past my resistance, I start with the smallest, most inconsequential thing I can find. I think of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem Burning the Old Year, which talks of new starts, and how one can “begin again with the smallest numbers”.
I find the rough edges, the torn discarded pieces of canvas, the really cheap paper, the hardware store brushes and let that energy leave my body. The only goal is to spend 10 minutes in there getting paint on paper.
There is something about a small piece of paper or canvas that feels ok to ‘ruin’. To allow yourself to play without worrying about the preciousness of the materials is the biggest way I have learned to move through the inertia. Those 10 minutes often turn into an hour and then more but I am never going in with the intention of spending the whole day painting.
More often than not, this process allows me to try some entirely new mediums, styles, compositions, themes and tools. I might find a little corner of a study I want to recreate larger, I might not. No outcome is assumed.
The older we get the harder it gets to experiment, days become rigid, responsibilities shape our time into a straight jacket. And although I’m still new to establishing my studio practice, I still find myself slipping into the habitual. Everything feels too serious, until I allow myself the moments of leaving and coming back, moments to start anew with a playful perspective. These moments of return, and these throwaway studies feel more precious to me now, than a lot of bigger, more finished work. I keep them in sight, to remind myself that I can always experiment.
And if it’s been too long since you treated your life as an experiment - this is your cue, to take a step outside the structure and routines you’ve set for yourself and start your day with play. Tell me what you find?
x
sana
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I stick things I like on my studio wall, a leaf, an old faded photo, a line scribbled on a beer soaked bar napkin, a scrap of nice paper or fabric, Stuck with pushpins
I stick things I like on my studio wall, a leaf, an old faded photo, a line scribbled on a beer soaked bar napkin, a scrap of nice paper or fabric, Stuck with pushpins