STUDIO TIME
The words {studio time} conjure specific images and actions in my mind: writing word lists, note taking, visually reviewing work from previous sessions, stretching, sitting and standing, rearranging supplies, testing materials, mixing colors, staring out the window (a lot) and probably realistically, checking my phone, responding to texts and calling a friend or two prior to ‘buckling down’.
This week, as we teeter between 1/3 to 1/2 way through our summer residency, I was grateful for concrete directives from my GSS advisor to steer my way into production. My first one on one visit with Kelly Kaczynski, last Wednesday, exposed the part of my process which frustrates me the most and she immediately offered two suggestions (which I took as assignments) to guide my way. I understood these prompts as trusted methods to stretch outside my comfort zone - one of the main reasons I am here.
Grateful for these new parameters, I got my hands on physical materials for the first time since arriving in Chicago - relieved to have some direction. The point of departure Kelly was addressing in my work was that I generally lack any referential imagery from direct observation in my pieces - the layers are formed intuitively as a response to the process itself. Kelly suggested I go out into the streets and do a few quick ‘plein air’ sketches of the city.
I couldn’t entirely get with that process, mostly because I’d find it hard to concentrate among the bustling sidewalks, but did snap a few ‘abstract’ photos of the L and a set of small drawings emerged.
I was thoroughly dismayed with the outcome and with my incompetency adapting to new materials (oil pastels), but happy to have broken away from my habitual means of creating abstract imagery.
Luckily, The second prompt truly captured my imagination. I was excited to try it. I’d been asked to take color copies of my paintings, cut them in pieces and create entirely new compositions from them. She wanted to see how my mind works when approaching abstraction in novel ways. This felt productive and liberating.
Then …
because I have been researching fabric, cloth & thread in relation to topics of mending and repair since I arrived, I was inspired to reach across disciplines to try something new. (Kelly and I never touched on these budding interests in our short time together). I was moved to construct small ‘bundles’ - little packages made of paper and cloth with hand-written messages hidden inside. Working on these, then seeing the set of bundles line up on the table made me happy. Their raw simplicity, the sense of these as gifts or humble offerings felt like a satisfying new direction.
A few last words on what I know about myself and how I ‘studio’:
I require lots of time for contemplation. LOTS. I realized a few years ago that the pause is not unproductive - it’s a necessary stage for me. I tend to vacillate between periods of intense productivity and recuperation. I have hoped to change this pattern, but now graciously accept this as part of the work (for now).
I am messy. Meaning I make a big mess while working. And, I also need the sense of order that tidiness brings, so I clean up and put things away each time as an act of respect for my process. This way I get to enter an orderly space every time I arrive at the studio.
& although I am primarily a visual artist, writing, words and found poetry usually accompany the visual articulations
Lastly, there are the ongoing questions….
Here are a few I keep asking myself in the studio:
1) Is there a place for beauty in my work?
(What if I removed the need for the work to be, in some obscure way, beautiful?)
2) How does a sense of craftsmanship show up in my work? (it is now given priority but in the past eschewed).
3) How can I shift to using only sustainable materials in my work? (repurposed supplies vs. acrylic paints which I have depended on).
4) How does my voice stay consistent as the materials change?
