Last weekend — only about week after I joined the studio collective — Atelier No 5 participated in Offene Ateliers Köln (Open Studios Cologne). The once-a-year event invites art studios throughout the city to open their doors and artists to share their work.
We held a reception on September 8, and despite having little to show given my move and limited time in the studio before the event, I was thrilled to sell two pieces (above, bottom left). While my personal art journals aren’t for sale, I was also proud to showcase several years’ worth and speak about the process of creating them (in German!).
I am exceedingly excited to share that I joined a shared studio space at Atelier No. 5 in the south of Köln. This opportunity allows me to connect with the artist community, build new relationships, and spread out and get messy (without the threat of curious cats).
Words swirl around my head constantly. I rarely extract them, afraid of the uncertain consequences of others knowing what I really feel. The danger of expressing myself, of it being the wrong thing said the wrong way.
I have a deep fear of being misunderstood. Of being punished, cruelly, immediately, publicly, for my own imperfection in expression, for letting myself tumble over my own lips and into others’ ears, eyes, and brain.
So I keep them, these thoughts, worries, and wonderings. I keep them tucked in my head and heart, where they beat against my skull and ribcage like butterflies desperate for the sun, for pollen, for the wind.
For their own good, I think. To keep them safe.
Recently, though, I have felt a nudge to open that cage, to let the viscera of my inner world spill out into the real world. My gatekeeper is exhausted, and I can’t help but think fuck it.Let it be what it is.
(I’m reminded of Anais Nin’s apt if oft-quoted line: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”)
The imperfection and mess I find so easily in my art journal, I want to decode all that and say what I mean, mean what I say, to shed the cloak of politeness and dive into raw, real authenticity. For too long I’ve squeezed myself — my brain, my lungs, my body, my being — into the tiny (but ever-changing) box of What Is Acceptable, and I’m tired and sore and cramped in weird places.
Freedom ↔ safety. Scrubbed raw ↔ a veneer. Butterflies.
The summer solstice fell on June 21st this year. Then the midway point of 2023 passed, and I finished James’ Clear‘s Atomic Habits a few weeks later. All of this has culminated in a pressing need to take a moment to pause, be present, and ask myself: How are things actually going?
The little things become the big things
Atomic Habits’ entire premise is that “small habits don’t add up. They compound.” The book explores the psychology of and misconceptions about habits, and suggests that building the lives we desire is possible through small, consistent daily choices and actions.
I highlighted nearly every other sentence; each on its own contains a multitude to parse out. It was Clear’s comments on self reflection, though, that jumped out at me as the mid-point of the year had just passed. He writes:
Reflection and review enables the long-term improvement of all habits because it makes you aware of your mistakes and helps you consider possible paths for improvement. … Personally, I employ two primary modes of reflection and review. Each December, I perform an Annual Review, in which I reflect on the previous year. … Six months later, when summer rolls around, I conduct an Integrity Report.”
I reflect and set intentions just before each new year, and I do have a sort of quarterly/seasonal reflection via my newsletter. Until now, though, I haven’t dedicated any thoughtful time mid-year to checking in on the goals I dreamed up the winter. And given that I’m progressively more stunned by how quickly time speeds by (and often bewildered as to how to recapture my days and be the agent in my own life), a summer review is a practice I’m adopting, starting now.
What I’ve achieved
In a wild and literally life-changing year, moving to Germany was the biggest goal — everything else, really, was icing on the cake.
But I am proud of what else I’ve made happen: I chased some big dreams (took part in Messy May, applied for a freelance writing gig with an author I admire, called about a studio space), prioritized mental and physical health (journaled, meditated, felt all the feels, went on many walks, upped my fruits and veggies), and emphasized delight (attended an intimate Vivaldi performance, traveled to Italy, took part in some Oliver Burkeman workshops, tried new restaurants in Cologne).
Looking ahead
I’m stealing something from Clear’s Integrity Report — identifying and centering core personal values. Similar to years past, the values that resonate most with me are curiosity, creativity, joy, security, and connection. (This is a great tool I’ve found for narrowing down your own.)
How can I better embody my core values in my daily life?
Curiosity. “What if…?” Buy and try new art supplies. Explore new things, with permission to move away from them if they don’t feel right.
Creativity. More art-making, and embracing of imperfection. Stylistic exploration. More making things with my hands: knitting/crocheting (coasters), carving stamps, collaging, big paintings, jewelry, sewing (clothes). Make home home. MORE WRITING.
Joy. Get out of the house and see musicals, go ice skating, pet the dogs, go to a Weihnachtsmarkt, travel. Chase the things that make me so excited I want to throw up. Go on noticing walks several times a week. Reflect more on what brings me delight.
Security. Financial: Put more in savings by the end of year. Sell some art in some way. Self care/having my own back: regular reflection, writing, asking self Qs that help. Get better sleep. More movement, veggies, self love.
Connection. Stay in touch with old friends. Nurture new friendships. Have a regular virtual game day with family. Buy ticket for home. Read more books. Pick up the phone and call my parents.
Ultimately, in a few months, when I look back to what I have achieved from this point, I want to have written more, to have stretched my linguistic muscles and shaped my ephemeral and fleeting thoughts into words. I want to have cultivated joy and ease and connection, and above all to have been gentle with myself.
This year for the Index Card a Day (ICAD) challenge, hosted by Tammy Garcia of Daisy Yellow, I decided to step way outside my comfort zone and tackle something I’ve always been interested in exploring: portraits.
The only index cards I had on hand were just 2×3″ (5×7.6 cm). I added collage, chose an reference image from Google, and tried my best to capture the light and shadow in a loose way while generally capturing the spirit of the model.
After nine portraits, I’m moving on to creative processes I enjoy more — but to be clear, I’m not leaving this project with shame or guilt for having not finished or wishing that I’d pursued something different. In fact, I feel proud that I not only tried something new, but I gave myselfpermission to walk away when it became something I had to do, not something I wanted to do. Year of ease, remember?
Here’s what I learned during this experience:
When starting out, make it simple. These cards were way too small, and I didn’t have the right brushes to paint something with such tiny detailed elements. If I make more portraits in the future, I’ll give myself more room to work with and make sure that I have brushes that will allow me to capture the level of precision that I need.
Even a short repeated attempt at something new will build new skills. I learned a lot during this process: open-mouthed smiles are hard to capture, layering diluted paint adds depth and detail, and I really love painting kids and dynamic shadows.
Prepare to make mistakes! I have a pile of portraits I started then abandoned, either because they were overworked or I wanted to start on them afresh.
Stepping outside your comfort zone to try One New Thing in one way gives you permission to not only make what you’ve committed to, but to expand in other ways as well. I’m curious about making tiny abstract works on the rest of these index cards and look forward to experimenting with new compositions and processes.
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