Taking time
companions, just companions
This week’s post is coming a bit past Monday; I’ve been enjoying long summer days, and I’ve also been sitting. Doing something and then doing nothing, the perfect combination!
Like I shared last week, transitioning to unemployment and unstructured days has been unpredictable and at times challenging. There’s a constant buzzing that nags me to make the most of this time creatively, and that’s usually in conflict to the immediate pull to do whatever I want. Sometimes, the nagging will win, and I’ll force myself to paint and be glad that I did. Other times, I’ll lose track of time, and painting for an hour will feel expansive. Inevitably, there are also days where I paint and scream at myself for making ugly paintings. I return the next day and usually decide the paintings are not entirely ugly. Of course, there are also times where I’m nowhere near my paintings and not thinking about them at all. I’m learning to be ok with this push and pull.
Last weekend, I was nowhere near my paintings and not thinking about them at all. I went to Orcas Island with Meg, who was one of my first friends in college. I still remember some of our early dining hall meals together, and the feeling of relief that came with finally making a real friend (feeling friendless at 18 for two months is harrowing). Now, there are almost 15 years of memories and shared meals together. What a gift!
Like with my time in the studio, time over the weekend took different shapes and forms. There were periods of anguish (a choppy boat ride with no Orcas sightings) followed by laughter (the injustice of our failed whale watching excursion). There was slow bird watching on the porch of our B&B and air conditioned phone rotting in street clothes on the bed. There were vacation things and everyday things, periods of doing something and doing nothing.
There is something pleasantly straightforward about a job. At work, I could chart the course of my day, or project, or client engagement. There would be some bumps and shifts along the way, but I generally knew how to get from A→B. If I think back to my headspace to when I was laid off in early June, I generally thought that the “first this (research, think, plan, sketch), then this (paint beautiful painting)” approach would work for painting. Of course, as I’ve written about over the past few weeks, it’s been…not that. And even though it’s hard in moments, I know that this is ultimately a good thing. Art imitates life, and life imitates art, and life is not so straightforward.
With that, I’ll leave you with another Ruth Asawa quote from her SFMOMA retrospective that, for me, is a reminder of the wonder that comes with our unpredictable lives. My mom sent me a photo of the same quote from her visit to the exhibit, so we both agree it’s a good one!
“You can’t force a plant to bloom. It has a cycle. You have to tend it and care for it and wait for the bloom to happen. If you don’t take care of it, it dies. The more experiences you have like this, the more you begin to understand your own cycle.”
—Ruth Asawa
Thinking back to college and the despair of feeling friendless is funny. I’m still friends with Segacy, my freshman year roommate, so I actually did have a friend since day one of college. We texted earlier this month about how we make time for our creative lives in the day-to-day. I had lunch on the waterfront with Jimena, a freshman floormate, earlier this week. Feeling lonely and far from home was crippling at 18, and looking back, I had friends nearby early. I just didn’t see it at the time.
With art, I graduated and immediately found a job in digital and graphic design because that is how I thought I could be creative and also have health insurance. I never considered sticking with painting, and yet there was a pull to return many years later…Cycles within my own life and understanding that comes with time.
Until next time,
Alison