Sharing Builds Connection

Making a wet felted cowl at the Manitoba Fibre Festival

Making art is extremely cathartic for me. It allows me to process concepts and ideas in a way nothing else can. When I create, I am translating my thoughts, feelings, and experience into something that can be shared. The actual sharing, though, is sometimes an anxiety-provoking experience. When I create something which is an extension of my inner world it is as though I am putting every vulnerability out there for the judgement of the world. Of course it stings when it is not well-received. I am learning to focus on the part that is truly essential to me: the making. The sharing is becoming inevitable as I am running out of places to put canvases. However, I am entering this new phase with the knowledge that the viewer is seeing my art through the lens of their thoughts, feelings, and experiences and that makes a huge impact on whether my work does or does not resonate with them. I have been longing for an art community and it has become abundantly clear that the community can't exist for me unless I show up, put myself out there, and show my art.

An experimental talisman in progress

I've been a maker my entire life, but I didn't start considering myself an artist until I dared to crack open Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way" two years ago. The book was helpful in a lot of ways, but the most important takeaway for me was the Morning Pages. Cameron insists on keeping a daily journal alongside a creative practice. I've vented, word-vomitted, and complained my way through a number of notebooks at this point and it has made such a difference to me. Most days I have no idea what is happening in my head until I commit to writing it down. I use a calligraphy pen to write and it makes the whole experience feel like ritual, especially when I carefully tuck in my handmade bobbin lace bookmark at the end of a session. Most pages of my journal are filled with stream-of-consciousness nonsense and run-on sentences about what I need to accomplish in a day. However, I also use this journal to record notes from online courses and to draw brainstorming mind maps for all areas of my life. With time, it has become apparent that life is very much interdisciplinary and sometimes keeping seemingly unrelated topics alongside one another has revealed stunning parallels.

I'm very grateful that my Grammy wrote diagonal lines on the page and had me practice my slanted cursive.

Another book I keep with me nearly all of the time is my trusty sketchbook. I would not say that I necessarily sketch all the time in this book, sometimes I collage or simply practice mark-making in it. Where the journal helps me put words to the wild world between my ears, my sketchbook is where I pour out my id in whatever form it takes. Many of my insecurities and shadows reveal themselves on its pages. I have let it become a space where there truly are no rules apart from: GET IT ALL OUT. Likely, it wouldn't even make sense to a viewer other than myself. I am on my 4th identical sketchbook in 2 years and I've been a huge fan of the outcome of having an archive of my shifting perspective that is both visual and chronological. I highly recommend giving yourself permission every once in a while to smear some pigmented goop around a page and see what becomes of it. Often I will spend a couple of days on one page, letting paint dry, developing its theme and aesthetic. What evolves sometimes inspires new themes for future work or techniques I haven't incorporated before.

A sketchbook doesn't need to be accessible to anyone but you. It's a place to grow and track your changing inner landscape.

So much is revealed by sorting out my inner world and reflecting back on what's been working and what clearly hasn't been. I've shared a bit of my early process here with you, but the vast majority of work I've done in my journals and sketchbooks is for my eyes only. There is no need to seek judgement on the primordial ooze from which my work emerges. One day soon I will take leap and begin sharing my painting process. Though my paintings are finished works on their own, I still consider them a stepping stone on the way to making textile art.