Familiar Uncertainty

Throwing myself into work has kept my mind focused and calm this month, and helped to quell some of the rising anxiety produced by the uncertainty of Covid and the upcoming elections here in the United States. Staying focused on the things in my personal and creative life that I can control, and the local actions I can take to help the community here in Los Angeles has been helpful, when the vastness of the world's problems can feel overwhelming.

Artists are no stranger to uncertainty. There is so little we can actually control about the outcome of our work. We can dream up a vision, try to make a plan, we can choose our materials and apply our effort and skills towards that vision, but a good artist must be flexible, must allow for deviations from the plan, be prepared for outside forces to affect the work and for it to take on a life of its own. An artist must learn to be open-minded, accepting that the outcome may result in either pleasant surprise or disappointment.

"Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the pre-requisite to succeeding."
- Art & Fear

Interestingly enough, with the amount of uncertainty in nearly every other facet of life these days, art has felt oddly safe and "certain" by comparison. Being able to throw myself into the familiar uncertainty of creating art has kept me grounded, and the physical process of making has helped me to literally "work through" some of the emotions of this month.

There is a Langston Hughes poem called Let America Be America Again that has been on my mind for months, and it has inspired a new series of small works on paper. I find this poem incredibly moving, and it's continued relevance is only further indication of how little has changed in our country since 1935 when it was written.

A short excerpt, below:

"O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!"

There is something haunting about the similar phrasing of Langston Hughes' words "make America again" and Donald Trump's MAGA slogan. Yet simply removing one word reclaims the phrase, transforming it into something more positive, powerful and unifying.

Hughes' is the original message.

It is a call for America to fulfill it's original promise — not to return to something it ever actually was — but to finally become something it has always had the potential to be. Like Hughes in 1935, I am still hanging on to hope that one day, for all of us, "America will be".

Adjusting to a new normal

April was a busy month. Despite all the changes and uncertainty, the weeks have flown by, and daily routines have been keeping me grounded.

A big focus of mine this past month was launching Punch Needle World, an online community and informational resource for Punch Needle Rug Hooking. Punch needle has become a central part of my work as an artist and I am passionate about its history, and invested in keeping the traditional technique alive even as I work to push it in new directions as an art form. Punch Needle World is my way to give back, elevate the community of artists around me, and support new creatives interested in learning more about this craft. (If you're interested in learning more, check out the website and feel free to join the Instagram community or mailing list to keep up with that endeavor!)

On a more personal note, this month has been centered around adjusting to and creating a "new normal". Morning routines and evening routines have been key to keeping me on track. Coffee and morning walks, delicious dinners and weekly conversations with friends have been good for the soul.

A couple weeks ago, I broke the lease on my new art studio that I just moved into this past December. I only had a few months to work from the space before COVID-19 made getting downtown and safely working within a large creative office building impossible. Moving into that space was a big step for me, and while it was hard to say goodbye so quickly, I know this is one of the best ways I can prepare myself as an artist and solo entrepreneur to ride things out for the months to come.

Some things I have been thinking about these days:

Adaptability. In the midst of so much uncertainty, I have been thinking a lot about the importance (now more than ever) of being flexible and being able to adapt to new situations. Humans are incredibly resilient, but many people have a natural aversion to change when faced with it head on. While it might seem scary, I think there is value in leaning into the change - even being malleable enough to let it guide our course - rather than resisting and insisting on the quickest return to "the way things were". Rather than asking "how can we regain what we have lost", maybe we should ask "what new opportunities might this open up"? The current situation will shape our world for years to come, in ways that we can not yet imagine. As an artist, a creative and an entrepreneur, I believe it is prudent that we begin thinking today about how we can best position ourselves to adapt and stay flexible over the next 2-3 years -- and beyond.

How current events, necessity, influences art. In a similar vein, I have been thinking a lot about how current events influence art, and how restriction and necessity often lead to incredible things. This is very exciting to me as an artist! Sometimes being required to work with restrictions leads to creativity that would have been impossible otherwise. Traditional Rug Hooking, Korean Jogakbo and the quilts of Gees Bend are all art forms that evolved out of necessity and restriction (ie. poverty). The women who pioneered these craft movements began simply, by using what they had at their disposal to create functional personal items that were popular during their time -- floor coverings, traditional wrapping cloth, and quilts. I am finding myself increasingly drawn to this type of work, and wondering what shape my own work might take out of necessity in the coming years.

Looking forward,
xx

Uncharted Territory

The world, and the way we relate to it, has changed very quickly. Over the past month, my personal plans have shifted. Some creative projects have taken a back seat, others have been postponed indefinitely. My professional goals for the year are being reset. February seems like a long time ago. Making art feels both frivolous, and like the only thing that actually matters.

These days I am feeling very grateful ― grateful for my health and the health of my loved ones, grateful for the ability to work from home and for the beautiful weather outside as I write this from my porch.

It can be unnerving to face the unknown, not knowing what is going to happen over the coming weeks or months. But there is something freeing about relaxing into that uncertainty. None of us really ever know what is around the bend. This quarantine has forced me to take things one day at a time, to slow down. Life is simpler, and I have found a surprising amount of joy in this scaled back routine.

"Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

I know this is a scary time for many people. I hope amidst the chaos you are able to find space to breathe, to be outside, to be kind to yourselves and your loved ones as we all navigate this situation together.

xx