Making Art through Uncertainty

Basquiat’s Door, 40 x 72 inches, acrylic, ink and spray paint on canvas. This painting is the second in my Artists’ Homes Series and is the catalyst for this new body of work.

I’ve made some ugly stuff over the past few weeks. Luckily, I’ve also some good stuff, and I’ve had lots of fun (most of the time) in the studio while creating. Experiencing more joy and freedom than frustration and uneasiness kept me moving forward with the work. I’ve been wanting to go more abstract and expressive with my paintings for a while now. Probably years if I’m being honest with myself. 

Once the kids started back to school this fall, I decided to go for it. I had been working on a large painting in my artists’ homes series of a door from Jean-Michel Basquiat’s 57 Great Jones Street home. I thought it best to make this painting with a combination of acrylic and spray paint. The experience of working with spray paint sparked something in me. After feeling so much freedom creating that painting, I decided to try and break free from my more detailed watercolor paintings and explore spray paint. I moved back and forth between using my morning walk find sketches as inspiration and simply letting my intuition guide me while painting.

Below you will see in process images:

This series is about finding a new rhythm and language in my art which is still unclear to me; however, I am confident that the uncertainty I’m experiencing right now is part of the process. I feel vulnerable sharing that I don’t know where the work is going, and I’m hesitant to show it because there is a chance the work may not go anywhere new. In the end, I may end up right back where I was a few months ago. And, that’s okay. On the other hand, because I am sharing the work and the process, I’m confident that the work will not go back where it was.

I'm making the work right now

and

doing my best not to judge what's coming out

I am pushing my process and materials in a new way that scares me because I don’t know where the work is headed. In spite of being intimidated, I will:

• Continue to push myself

• Develop my new language through new and old mediums

• Be in the unknown in the studio as the work evolves

• Show up, make the work then share it with you

As always, thank you for following along on my journey. You can see and purchase work from this series here.

Mother-Daughter Painted Platters

I am delighted to share the latest collaboration with my potter mom and dad who pitched in to help this time. Over the past 6 months, we have created 14 hand-built, hand-painted platters in Tennessee at my parent’s studio where they were hand-built and fired, and in my Chicago studio where they were painted.

Bird’s-eye view of the platters on my studio rug.

Painted Platters

Painted Platters in the Making

A Closer Look

You can read about our previous pottery collaboration here, and find available works for sale here.

Creative Flow and Social Media

I’m painting and thinking and writing and making morning walk sketches,  and I’m not posting any of it on Instagram. I’m not even looking at Instagram. In fact, three weeks ago, I deleted the app from my phone. I also deleted Facebook and Pinterest. Currently, I have almost no digital visual input. And, it feels so liberating. 

I was on the Instagram roller coaster for many years— posting on my feed 5 days a week, 3 times a day at 9am, 12pm and 3pm. I don’t ride roller coasters in real life, so why have I been riding this one? Because consistency in posting is what I heard would gain the most followers and keep my audience engaged. Why did I need more followers? To grow my business? To validate my work? I found myself working on my phone all-the-time. I’m a painter, and I was on my phone way more than I was painting. Something needed to change. 

As the end of the kids’ school year was nearing, I felt this would be the perfect time to explore my relationship between my phone (mainly social media) and my art practice. It was time to get off the roller coaster; time to stop overthinking what to post; time to stop scrolling through Instagram and Pinterest for inspiration to see what’s hot; time to stop comparing my life and work to others.

Don’t let the above fool you into thinking that I don’t love Instagram, because I do LOVE instagram. I am so grateful for the people who like my work and are curious to see what I do in the studio. Instagram is a gift that other artists (and mothers) give me. The people I’ve followed over the years have greatly fueled me. I want to contribute to that community but I want to re-enter it in a fresh way. I want to re-engage in a way that is fulfilling for not only my creative practice but to the lives of those who follow my feed. 

Questions I’m currently asking myself:

• How can I get in a state of creative flow and experimentation in the studio without ruminating about how whatever I’m doing is going to look on Instagram?

  • What practices can I establish so that Instagram doesn’t distract me from creative studio time?

  • How can I post images of my process and creative output while keeping my feed coherent? Does it need to be consistent?

  • What do I wish to share?

• How can I follow other artists without being overly influenced by their work? 

  • How can I limit the natural comparison that happens when engaging with social media?

  • What boundaries can I put in place so I have a healthy relationship between being influenced by what’s on social media and finding inspiration elsewhere? 

• Should I move away from using Instagram as a business tool? 

  • Can I trick myself into thinking social media is not a business tool while knowing that it is? 

• How do I balance my need for creative flow and experimentation with my desire to share my work and engage with people?

  • How can I engage on a deeper level with people who follow my work and process? 

Okay, the last two questions really get to the heart of this exploration. You see, I am an introvert. At the age of 13ish while at summer camp, I remember vividly how I felt when I got the results back from the Meyers-Briggs personality test. It read INFJ. I kept looking at the first letter in shock. What? I’m an introvert? I cried. I felt lost because I wasn’t what I thought was cool, an extrovert. On that day, I discovered that I was an introvert— not because the test said so, but because I could feel it in my bones.  

I’ve been focused on getting stimulation from outside myself for years through social media, and I’m drained. Over the last few months, I’ve been feeling my introvert rear her head and beg for attention. I am honoring that part of me right now. I’m on a path to discover how to engage in a meaningful way through social media while consistently being in creative flow. Using this month to reset is the first step in that journey. 

On a personal note, as you know, I have 4 children. My oldest turned 12 last week. She’s been asking for a phone for years. We believe she doesn’t need one right now; however, she will eventually. In the meantime, she and her brothers are soaking up how I engage with my phone. Before this social media cleanse, I felt like my phone use was getting out of control. I was posting what I thought others expected to see or posting in response to what I was seeing on other feeds instead of what I desired to share. Frankly, I wasn’t taking time to ask myself what I wished to share. I am seeking to find peace with my interactions through my phone before I hand one to her and expect her to know how to live with this powerful device. An important role as a mother of teenagers will be to help them navigate the world of social media. How am I going to do that if I don’t know how to engage with it in a conscious way?

It feels good to put all of this in writing. I can already sense that by simply taking a break and writing this down, my relationship with social media is transforming. I also know that it will be an ongoing dance to learn how to use it as I evolve and it evolves. 

And so, this week I will begin to add social media back into my life. A myriad of emotions arise at the thought of re-entering the social media universe, but, for the most part, I’m energized by the idea of experimenting with it in a fresh way. You can follow me on Instagram @katelewisart.com to see for yourself what emerges!

Morning Walk Paintings

I had an itch— To create paintings on canvas inspired by my black and white Morning Walk sketches. Here’s how they came to be:

Pencil sketches on gessoed 8 x 8 inch canvases.

First layer of acrylic on Red.

I ended up shifting the bottom color on Lily of the Valley.

Color palette influenced by Raimonds Staprans (top book) and Hilma af Klint (lower right book).

Flowers Delight in progress

Flowers Delight’s color palette influenced by the enchanting paintings by Hilma af Klint.

Four Tulips in the works.

Again, turning to Hilma af Klint for color inspiration.

Almost complete. A look at all six paintings.

Visit here to see the completed paintings available for purchase.

Bonus: Lots of Morning Walk Sketches are now available as prints. Go to prints available here to see them and more.

Morning Walk Find

I am pleased to officially announce that I’m working on illustrating my first book, set to be released in fall 2020. It’s absolutely exhilarating and all consuming. The detailed illustrations are a lot. My studio and mind are full of all things books. I want to make it kick-ass. I want it to be my best work. I want it to be everything I ever imagined it could be. This book, the process and collaboration with the editor and writer has been a dreams-do-come-true kind of experience.

A glimpse of an illustration in the works for the book! Much, much more to come about this project :)

While this book project is what dreams are made of, it’s also full of pressure. Pressure I have put on myself, and expectations I’ve set for what it means. I am full of the high hopes of producing my most beautiful and authentic paintings within this unbelievably tight deadline. When I started officially painting illustrations for the book, I felt that I desperately needed an outlet- something to do and create that would take my mind off of it even for a little bit. It had to be a small task because I simply didn’t have extra time to spare. As you see on my web site and Instagram feed (really anywhere I can put it), I am a mother to four young beautiful beings. I cherish this about my life. I worked hard, really hard to make our family happen. You can imagine, being a mom is not only time consuming, but emotionally and physically draining. I longed for something, anything to distract me while raising a young family and being immersed in this exciting book— an activity that would help me tap into another part of myself.

And so, during this very full time in my life, something told me to walk. Enter my Morning Walk Find project. In the fall of 2018 I found myself being called to go on long walks through my neighborhood. I am grateful to live in the East Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago which is full of interesting buildings, expansive parks and, most importantly to me, Lake Michigan. Having this ocean-like body of water to visit gives me energy. As I began walking, I started to post pictures on my Instagram stories of little things that caught my eye while outside — a flower, the lake’s waves, the lines of a building, etc. After a few weeks of this, I decided to give a go at not only taking photos and videos of these things but also painting and drawing them in a small sketchbook.

Now, the practice of sketching is a whole other new discovery within this project. Typically, I have not been a sketcher. I am a don’t waste any time, go straight from idea to canvas kind of artist. Remember, I have four kids. The youngest is now 3 which is making it easier for me to have larger windows of time; however, I have an ongoing “I don’t have enough time” conversation, and the idea of “wasting” time to sketch made no sense to me. BUT, I’ve always admired people who sketched. I am also an art supply junky and have always, always wanted to be one of those artists who carry around a sketchbook and mini travel paints. This project has feed that desire and ignited my love of using a sketchbook.

With my new travel-sized paints, pre-filled watercolor brushes and sketchbook in hand, the Morning Walk Find journey was born. It was glorious for the first several weeks. Autumn’s crisp air and warm light provided a beautiful backdrop for my sketches. However, as the weather in Chicago turned colder, I wasn’t sure I could continue. One morning, while painting a dried hydrangea, I noticed chunks in my watercolor paint. At first I thought it was debris from the ground, but I soon realized it was ice. My paint was freezing! I checked my phone to find that it was 22 degrees. At that point, I thought my morning sketches would need to stop because I simply could not put myself through sketching outside in frigid temps. However, even though I detest being cold, I wanted to continue the morning walk project. And so, I ended up making a deal with myself. As the weather got cooler, I would limit my walks to the distance from the gym, where I go after school drop-off, and my house. I would find something within this 3 block radius to sketch each morning.

What an eye-opening experience this has been! First, I realized that I didn’t have to take long walks to find something that peaked my interest. Also, I have been “seeing” my surroundings for the first time. For the over 18 years I’ve lived here, I have had an ongoing conversation about how Chicago is lacking nature. I grew up on a 70-acre farm in Tennessee where nature is at the forefront. I absolutely love my parent’s farm and cherish every moment I am there. And, I especially love seeing my children experience the openness of their land. Surprisingly, through my Morning Walk Find journey, I am shocked to report that I can now see Chicago in a similar way to how I view my hometown in rural Tennessee. Nature IS everywhere! I can discern nature here in the city among the concrete, buildings, cars, sirens and movement. My morning walk finds have made me decelerate to a pace found in TN. As I walk, I am struck by the mighty beauty and wonder that has always been at my doorstep all these years. It’s right here.

It remains unclear to me how long I will continue the Morning Walk Find project and if anything more than this post and several instagram photos will come out of it. However, with the book deadline a week behind me (deep breath), if feels like the right time to take a moment and write a few thoughts about it all. Maybe this project is simply meant to have me be present a few minutes a day. Or, maybe it’s meant for something bigger. What has me think it’s the latter is the response I’ve gotten from many, many Instagram followers. People have messaged me saying they love seeing my “finds” or that they are noticing new things around them through following my “morning finds”. I am grateful for your comments as reading them confirms my feeling that there is something deeper here to explore.

If you’re inclined to look, all of my Morning Walk Find posts can be found on Instagram with hashtag #morningwalkfindsketch.

End Note: I saw flowers starting to sprout on my walk this morning and I thought to myself, I cannot stop this project now! Spring is coming. New, bright colors and flowers are emerging. This is the reward of making it through the winter! And so, I created this watercolor sketch then multiplied it.

Painted Vases Series: A Mother-Daughter Collaboration

The finished vases in Kate's studio

My mother set up a pottery studio years ago. Over the years I’ve seen her grow and expand not only her physical studio but also her practice. She makes and sells her own work and opens her studio weekly so others can learn how to build and throw.

My mother, Donna Ewell, throwing a vase at Ewell Farm Studio in Halls, Tennessee

Crocheted doilies hanging at Ewell Farm Studio ready to be pressed into clay.

My father’s woodworking shop is supposed to be half of the studio; however, more often than not his space is overrun by drying plates, pots and serving platters. I overtook it while painting.

The table where I painted all of the vases. You can see my father's woodworking shop in the background. He creates beautiful wooden bowls and spoons. I hope to collaborate with him in the future. 

About 5 years ago I attempted to paint on her work (see below). It was done on a whim during one of our visits and you can also see that my mother was still experimenting with how to get the perfect plate. Since then she has mastered dinnerware, and I’m fortunate to have a full set that we use daily. When a plate or mug breaks, I know who to call to “order” a replacement— a huge benefit to having a potter-mom.

Plates, Bowls and Cups made by Ewell Farm Studio and painted by Kate in 2013

At the end of 2017, I proposed a collaborative series with my mom. She’s always up for new challenges so I wasn’t surprised when she said yes. Over the following weeks and months we discussed color, shapes, sizes, process and timing. I got a crash course in underglaze, types of clay and bisque firing. 

Once we had the initial plan in place, she diligently created a variety of vases based on sketches I created for her. I looked through my previous paintings to capture the shapes of vases I’ve been painting over the years. 

Before I arrived in Tennessee to paint the vases, I spent several weeks researching ceramic designs and started sketching in my sketchbook then moved to practicing painting on paper cups. Initially I thought I would use lots of colors similar to my paintings; however, as time neared to paint, I decided to limit the unknowns and embrace working with the classic color combo of blue and white. 

Pencil sketch and watercolor painting on paper cup

Pencil sketch for pitcher

Pencil sketch for small vase

My inspiration came from many places; however, three of my greatest sources of inspiration came from the paintings on ceramics by Vanessa Bell (did you know she and Virginia Woolf were sisters?!) and Henri Matisse, the patterns of the French Domino papers, the beautifully crafted and designed works of Royal Copenhagen and Iznik pottery. 

Vanessa Bell, British (1879-1961)

Domino paper. You can read more about this here

Royal Copenhagen Jug

Inznik, Jar with Tulips

The week leading up to our visit, Mom bisque fired the vases. All 25 vases were waiting for me when I arrived in Tennessee with my family for spring break. After the 8 hour car drive from Chicago, I jumped right in and started painting. We fired the first vase that night to see how colors turned out. We had to make a few adjustments and cross our fingers along the way. In the end, our collaboration was a success and I hope this is the first of many. 

Vases drying at Ewell Farm Studio

Vases being bisque fired at Ewell Farm Studio

Below you will find images from our week together:

Sketchbook open and midway through painting this whimsical vase. I enjoyed working with the big studio door open. 

Painting one of my favorite designs

A look at my sketchbook and vases being painted at Ewell Farm Studio

The last three vases I painted were done with wax resist then dipped in blue glaze. We are thrilled with how these came out. More of these to come, I hope!

My daughter painting her own vase alongside me at Ewell Farm Studio. Perhaps this is foreshadowing of a future collaboration. 

The completed vases in my Chicago studio:

All of the vases will be available soon for purchase on this web site. Please join my email list below if you would like to be the first to know!

Paint My Nook

Over the last few months, my art practice has had me dive deep into connection with my Instagram followers and their cherished spaces through my Paint My Nook series. I invited people to post photos of places that resonated with them and tell me why. I looked beyond the actual image submitted. I was not looking for perfectly decorated spaces. Rather, I sought REAL life nooks. I collected those images of places and things that matter to everyday people, illustrated them on two different canvases, shared my painting with others through Instagram and then released one of my interpretations of that space back into the life of the original owner as a gift to her. The other painting is available for purchase here.

In the images below, you will see the image submitted on the left and the painting created on the right. 

As I painted those treasured spaces and objects, it was as if for a little while I got to spend time in reflection with that person. I got the opportunity to meditate on what’s important to her and in turn think about what matters to me. My intention was to illustrate the owner’s spirit, life, dreams within the image submitted. That is what makes this project matter. If I captured the essence of the space and what it means to that person, then I’ve done my job. I’m on a quest to document and add color, pattern, and celebration to those nooks. I especially enjoyed building color, playing with color. Color is a wonderful way of expressing emotion.

The Paint My Nook project is about the places and objects that have people feel complete and connected to what is meaningful to them. Reading what those nooks and things mean to their owners brought a sense of knowing and community to not only my art practice but to everyone following along. This body of work is one of comfort and knowing. 

This series of paintings is a glimpse into how and where ordinary people derive meaning from their everyday spaces and objects. Our environments do make a difference- that chair, that lamp, that pattern triggers something for us that makes our lives matter.

It has truly been an honor to play this game with you and to have a peek into your special nooks and to get to know you a little bit. What a meaningful journey we are all on. Let’s all remember to pause and capture those spaces which remind us of who we love, what really matters and to embrace the beauty of our everyday lives.

To read the text that accompanies each image, please visit the Paint My Nook page here.

Reimagined: Works on Paper

I often feel like I’m trying to get somewhere with my work. Whatever I have just created is not “it”. I tell myself that the next painting or series of paintings will be what I have been striving to produce. This can be a grueling experience in some ways. In others, it is what drives me to forge ahead. 

Ironically, lately I have found myself experimenting with the opposite approach. I have been visiting past works. As I have scrolled through images of previous paintings, I am rediscovering their beauty, femininity and quirks. I have reflected on my love of flowers and the beauty of a simple chair surrounded by a fun pattern- two themes that have emerged time and time again over the years. This inspection has initiated a welcomed deceleration in the studio.

On the left is the painting from 2016 Chair with Red Wallpaper. On the right is the reimagined subject created recently (fall 2017) in marker and watercolor.

And so, surprisingly, a fresh body of work is emerging. Each new painting starts with simply looking at my older works, then sketching those images on watercolor paper with markers as my drawing tool. I allow myself to sketch the same works multiple times to satisfy color experimentation. After the initial drawings are complete, I go into the paper with watercolor to add softness, depth and an airiness. This has been my meditation. I have been drawing and painting, drawing and painting, drawing and painting. Repeat.

On the left is the painting from 2016 Flowers on Orange Table with Black and White. On the right is the reimagined subject created recently (fall 2017)  in marker and watercolor.

Not only has this process given me the opportunity to reconnect with my older paintings, but it has also given me the space to contemplate those who have purchased my paintings in the past. The people, who with each purchase, have given me the fuel to continue making. I’ve been imagining those paintings hanging on walls in homes across the globe and quite possibly in special nooks. 

On the left is the painting from 2014 White Anemone in Pink Urn. On the right is the reimagined subject created recently (fall 2017) in marker and watercolor.

This process has been a welcomed shift for me to look backwards at my body of work instead of disregarding what I've created in order to get somewhere else. These reimagined works on paper are about rebirth and reconnection- a diving back into the past to reflect then to resurface with something new.

I will be posting new reimagined works every Friday for the coming weeks, so check back when you can. 

In Good Company

Dreamy yet Intentional. 

Beautiful and Strong.

I spent a whirlwind two days in beautiful San Francisco surrounded by like-minded spirits. It was like summer camp with purposeful mom bosses who had come together to meet and share themselves.

Usually an introvert, I found myself uncharacteristically introducing myself to everyone I encountered because I knew there were 300+ attendees who were full of generosity and good vibes. I was a sponge, there to absorb every ounce of it. There was a special connectivity, magic dust in the air created by Katie Hintz-Zambrano, founder of In Good Company @beingoodcompany and co-founder at Mother Magazine @mothermag.

In this journal entry, I would like to share with you words and thoughts taken from my notes. Know that endless advice + little and big words of wisdom were spoken; however, this is what stood out to me that day.

“Show up. Be consistent. Look Forward. Follow your own path and stop looking at other people around you.”

— Clare Vivier @clarevivier

“Make Connections. Create connections.”

— Elle Rowley @sollybabywrap

“Identify and manage your stress.”

— Amanda Chantal Bacon @moonjuiceshop

“Be more direct with your sales pitch.”

— Joy Cho @ohjoy

“Go at your own pace. Relax and take it easy.”

— Alex Elle @alex_elle

“Make sure your own voice comes through. Go back to basics. No one knows you more than you. Share yourself.”

— Laura Miller @imlauramiller

“I knew instinctively what was right and people took me seriously because I was confident. Creativity and business are not exclusive.”

— Anna Wallack @misha_and_puff

“Be brave. Find it in my spirit.”

— Ingrid Carney @ingridandisabel

“If we’re honest then there can be a path forward.”

— Hilary Dessouky @patagonia

“Don’t be polite. Stop apologizing for who you are and the choices you make or want to make. ”

— Elisabeth Pruitt @lizprueitt_tartine

“Create a community to care for each other. Surround yourself with people who are like-minded and warm.”

— Latham Thomas @glowmaven

Friday night as I was flying over San Francisco heading east to Chicago, I was overcome with peace, community and connection. This event was exactly what this mom boss needed to refuel to move forward. I’m already looking forward to the next one!

My intent is to come back to this journal entry periodically to reconnect with the wisdom shared there. I hope you do, too. 

P.S. Want another shot of inspiration from the conference? Read this article from a little publication called Vogue, https://www.vogue.com/article/in-good-company-conference

The Quiet Eye

Sylvia Shaw Judson is the artist of the iconic sculpture on the cover of the novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. The disquieting image of the sculpture and the word evil in the title never appealed to me. However, this summer, I took a second look at that image when I spent a week among Judson’s other sculptures at Ragdale, her family home in Lake Forest, IL. If you wish to read about that cathartic week, see my previous journal entry.

Bird Girl made in 1936 by Sylvia Shaw Judson. Sculpted at Ragdale, her family's summer home in Lake Forest, IL.

It’s been a month since my time in the studio named after Judson, “Sylvia’s Studio”. I didn’t fully realize it while there, but now I feel she made a quiet yet powerful impact on me. She is my kindred spirit. Her sculptures were everywhere on the grounds of Ragdale. They were tranquil, strong and peaceful. I loved how she conjured a sense of the divine in ordinary subjects. They had been there for years and years watching all that had come and gone. They didn’t make sounds yet you could feel each piece had a deep, deep story to tell. If only one would stop to listen; rest long enough to absorb their stories. The inspiration, the vision of this one person, Sylvia, who made animals, people, the lines she used, the expression, the addition of flowers to some struck me with authoritative stillness. They were almost breathing as they sat proudly in their spots. 

Summer, seen here at Ragdale, one of Sylvia Shaw Judson's most endearing statues. This statue reminded me of those on the front steps of my Grandmother's home.

With all of her statues, she paid close attention to how the sculpture would be viewed from all angles.

Like her sculptures, Sylvia’s book, The Quiet Eye, published in 1954 was everywhere at Ragdale. It was as if she was at every corner to provoke me. One day I picked up a copy of this little book while eating lunch and immediately became engaged. It took me back to my days as an art educator at The Art Institute of Chicago. To the days when I was taking student groups through the museum and asking “What do you see?” What a powerful and simple question, yet quite confronting. Many years away from asking those questions to groups of 5 year olds to teenagers, I sit here in my studio and ask myself: 

What do I see? 

At first, the nonsense comes up- it’s not good enough, if only i had taken more time/had more time… Once I get through that initial layer of gibberish, I look again and ask again:  

What do I see? 

Now, the next layer of answers come: I see color. Someone who loves color. No, I don’t see someone. I see a chair. I see a flower. I see reds, blues, pinks, on and on. I look and only see what I see. It’s a liberating and powerful exercise that I take with me as I move from the studio into the hubbub of life with young children. I ask: 

What do I see? 

I see a child. Children. Beautiful human beings. Individuals I get to be with and grow with. People who teach me. I get to watch as they are discovering their worlds at the same time I am discovering mine. 

What a gift Syliva Shaw Judson continues to give me as I navigate my life as a mother and partner. The Quiet Eye is one I intend on honing, exploring and teaching my children. I am in pursuit of removing interpretations and detaching judgement from not only my art but from my life and the people around me, especially the young ones. I’m on that journey now and it’s freeing. Not an easy one, but putting it out for you to read helps me to stay accountable and hopeful that I can continue to move myself back to this view when I get sidetracked. I am not here to judge. I am here to create. As a human being, it’s nearly impossible to let go of interpretations; however, my Quiet Eye will continue to bring me back to simply looking and seeing- truly seeing is my intention.

The Quiet Eye has a permanent home in my studio.

I found this spread to be especially meaningful as a print of this image hangs in my parent's home.

Ragdale: Reflections on My Artist Residency

This sign warmed my heart-- "Quiet Please. Artists At Work".  Ragdale offers 150 residencies and fellowships annually, making it one of the largest artists’ communities in the US.

The birds were chanting, “You’ve got this!” I heard celebration in their sounds. Uplifting, peaceful and exhilarating music. I felt waves of peace, gratitude and contentment. Being at Ragdale felt like giving birth. I was close to what is real and true. I loved being in nature with the birds, insects and especially the flowers. Everything was speaking to me. They were my subjects and seemed to be awaiting my arrival.

Viewing everything through the gaze of an artist, I was in a trance during my seven-day stay. I went inward, and it was a welcomed home. I put every ounce of my being into my work and purpose for being there. Solitude is what I found and what a renewing gift it was and continues to be.

An apple tree outside my studio.

The dedication and discipline it took for me to focus while there was extreme. I kept telling myself that I’ll need to rest at some point; that the pace in which I was creating was not going to last, but it did. Everything I saw I wanted to paint. The first two days I stayed within my comfort zone by painting small interiors and florals on stretched canvas. I was partly going through the motions but also felt like that’s what I needed to do to get acclimated. The paint was flowing, and I was riding the wave.

Small interiors and florals on stretched canvas created my first days of the residency.

Looking back, I am delighted with the work I made, how boldly and confidently I created it, and the leaps I took with my subject matter and material. I pushed past the small tight corners of the stretched canvases I have been working on for years, moved on to painting on large sheets of paper then finally painting on a large piece of fabric. I picked up a piece of unstretched linen from the art store before I left. I had always wanted to paint on raw linen, but was scared to try. Purchasing it on a whim, I secretly thought I would end up returning it. At first, that piece of linen rested on the studio couch. It waited for me to work through the stretched canvases and the large sheets of paper hanging on the wall. I would catch a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye patiently standing by. It was as if I had to become unleashed with my work before being able to add paint to the raw linen. On the last day, I did it and a sense of walking, no running down a new path washed over me.

Working on large works on paper.

Unstretched linen painting.

As I was there, I began to question my process over the last several years. I’ve worked from magazine images in the past. I began to feel like I’ve used magazines to hide behind. Hide my own creativity and voice. I’ve relied on those images for so long (about 8 years); however, I do believe it’s time to let them go. Let go of the glossy, perfect images and discover my own world around me and the one inside me. The clippings, the need to hoard magazines, consume and collect has passed.  In a very short amount of time I have broken free from my past work. Sitting in my studio now, I am not sure where I will take the work next. Better said, where the work will take me. But, here I am. I will continue to show up here and see what emerges.

A morning spent painting in the garden. The sundial, designed by Shaw, has this verse inscribed around it: Hours Fly, Flowers Die, New Ways, New Days, Pass By, Love Stays

One of the greatest gifts I gave myself during the residency was liberation from social media.  It was a relief not to have that hanging over my head- what to post, when to post. It is distracting and even detrimental to discovering soul and depth in my work. If I want to continue to connect with myself and uncover what I am seeing and want to express, I need to create space for that to appear. Being on my phone and computer, looking at images and other people’s lives, aesthetics, voices, I do not hear my own. I know there is a time for social media and I am grateful for that outlet. While at Ragdale, I began to find a balance between inspiration and consumption.

The main house at Ragdale. Originally the summer home of Howard Van Doren Shaw who is considered a leader of the American Arts and Crafts Movement.

Sketching one of the many, many geraniums at the main house.

The front porch.

Being in the Ragdale home and studio provided not only inspiration for my art but a renewed focus on what’s important for me as an artist and the family environment I wish to create. The Shaw family established Ragdale as a haven and I experienced it as that. It was safe for me to let everything go, to be there fully and paint, to allow myself the freedom, time, head space to dive in and to go deeper and deeper. I’m taking back more than I can absorb right now. I anticipate it will take me many, many days, months, even years to see the impact Ragdale- the space, the welcoming staff and especially the other residents have made on me as an artist, mother, wife, friend, and citizen. I was struck by the importance of being a part of a supportive, creative community. I felt enveloped; like the staff and other residents were there as guides to help me tap into my own voice. I left Ragdale with feelings of serenity and surrender; the ability to see and be; and a strong desire to nurture creativity, self-expression, literature, music and visual arts for my family as the Shaws did at Ragdale. Most importantly, I feel the need to find moments of solitude not only for myself but for each person in my family.

The midway moment of a black and white painting of the garden.

Sitting out on the front porch one afternoon while there, I saw a glimpse of myself autonomous from my children. A wash of tears came over my eyes, a bit of sadness and joy. In the same instant I noticed butterflies playing in the garden nearby and thought of them as my children. It was an image that gave me great comfort and a knowing that all was well. They were okay as was I.

View from the loft of all of the work I created during my time at Ragdale.

I am proud of myself for standing for that week in my life- this chaotic, kid-centered, husband-centered time and think, damn, I did that. I was able to step away. Immerse, submerge and go for a deep dive and surface as a renewed, powerful artist with so much to share and give. Life as a mother of four and wife to a traveling business executive has come back abrupt and fast. My time at Ragdale was sacred. I reconnected with my artist. I felt her almost for the first time. I had a profound longing for years to see her and there I was able to. Happily, I find that I do have access to her even now as I write. She has always been with me. Now that we have surfaced together we can move forward and create hand in hand instead of me trying to find her. She’s with me, my creative partner. 

Here I am on the final evening with my work.

The beauty and fire of being an artist is that my work will never be done. There is always more to create. Another level to uncover. While there I questioned why I have such a burning desire to make. It is for nothing. For no one. Not even for me. Yet, it is for everyone and everything at the same time.