anxiety – Woebegone Art

A day of rest

tethered (Except not really rest)

I did it! Yesterday I finished the last of the paintings I was hoping to complete for the upcoming art festival. ‘Tethered,’ the long canvas featuring a guinea fowl holding a death frog balloon is done and I’m very proud of it. As soon as it dries, hopefully tomorrow, I’ll usher it off to the framers with grave import and no small amount of accomplishment.

I realize now that all of the deadlines and working around the clock have helped to keep anxiety at bay in wake of the upcoming showing. Because now that the finish line has been crossed I’ve got a lot of cycles to be able to fill with worry.

I’m one of those people who avoids the things that cause the most pain. I’m not talking about physical pain, really; I am covered with tattoos and have a high threshold. I’m referring to avoiding the spiritual anguish of being vulnerable, going well outside one’s comfort zone, putting oneself in the spotlight.

Today, I feel nervous.

I am still making dolls, which I love. And going over all the logistics required for erecting a booth and showing one’s art, which — if you’ve never done it before — is an awful lot. But in between I’m continually asking myself what I got myself in to.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be too busy to worry again.

Artist at work

13211147_1041459109277246_2036898697_o — Getting my most recently-completed painting, Promises, custom framed. The challenge of finding the perfect frame to add gravitas to my monkey portrait was very satisfying.

I’m very, very busy.

As I reach the cutoff point by which any paintings I produce will not be ready in time to show, I am also fully enmeshed in the “action needed now!” phase of booth planning. In the center of where those two meet and overlap is labeled AT FULL CAPACITY (especially when you consider all the domestic responsibilities that come with end of school year for my three young boys). I have so much to do that I reach the end of the day without knowledge of how I came to be there.

It’s an exciting ride, but the adrenaline is starting to fade. I look forward to looking backwards.

I miss drawing

PROPEL | 2016 | pen and ink on paper, 6" x 4" — PROPEL |
2016 |
pen and ink on paper, 6″ x 4″

Drawing is one of my most soothing pasttimes. It eases my anxiety to draw line after line and watch the image develop, not unlike those magic 3D posters from the ’90s. Drawing also serves to support my other media, as I practice forms, textures, and levels through my illustrations before I bring them to canvas and clay.

But I’m not drawing these days.

I spend the first half of the day painting and the second half working on dolls, and in between doing all the domestic and family and grooming tasks. I’m not used to being so on deadline with my art, but it’s good: I’m being very productive and I love meeting my goals and thinking more broadly and putting so many resources towards my art.

Still, like a broody tween clucking over a baby-faced crooner, I consider my pens; the exquisite potential of unblemished paper. They call to me.

Maybe after this art show is over I will spend the summer lounging with pen in hand, delightedly developing use callouses and aching fingers, filling sketchbooks with lines and intention. My hands and my back may cramp up but my mind will be unburdened: a totally fair trade.

Consumption

I had my first solo show in Portland in 2012. It took me a year to prepare for it, and 4 years to be ready to show again.

I think many artists live to show their work, but I am not one of them. For me, it’s an exercise into being excised, showing too much, shrinking from exposure. Which is really too bad, because I do think my dolls have to be seen and handled to be truly experienced; and oil paintings get flattened by photography when in life they change based on the light and one’s perspective, shifting to reflect your view.

The support and encouragement gleaned from showing one’s work is invaluable. I always get such positive interaction and affirmation for my artist’s voice. It’s just me: I’m introverted, and I’m weird, and I’m shy. Sharing my work daily through social media has helped me to stretch, I think. I hope that showing in public won’t be such a trek through the Himalayas for me this time.

I have exactly two months to work it out. Ironically, I do find myself consumed with the notion of showing again. But I am proud of my work, and sit certain I will likewise make myself proud with the showing.

Facing the jury

Assorted_group

I am currently under scrutiny.

And the ironic thing is that I asked to be so. I have entered my dolls and oil paintings for consideration of entry into a prestigious local art festival. My application and portfolio is currently under jury review.

Applying for entry to this fine art festival has long been a goal of mine. My family is regularly in attendance, and I’ve always admired the outstanding art on display (and the artists brave enough to ambassador their work). And I would wonder, “Could I ever…?”

I am not a social person. I vastly prefer the sanctity of my insulated art studio to the chaotic world outside my window. And I have a hard time discussing my artwork: because I feel like I communicate honestly and sincerely through my work, it’s a difficult process to translate that in person; it oftentimes leaves me feeling bruised and vulnerable.

Plus I have a great fear of rejection. Perhaps the jury will think my work is not the right fit. Or, if I do get in, maybe no one will like my work. Maybe if I attempt to discuss my inspiration, a hole will open up in the ground and I will gratefully and graciously fall through it into realms unknown.

I mean, who knows. Anything can happen, and it can hurt (or not). But I took the important, brave, first step of putting it out there. I am willing to be scrutinized. I will stand with my art. I can face rejection. I dare to expose my neck.

I told myself I wouldn’t enter until I could accept a “no” without derailment. I’m proud that I was ready. And so I wait. But I hope it’s a “yes.”