I find it very difficult talking about my art work. So here is a start…Awkward though it may be.
I started making art again; away from university, away form any structured group and probably 10 years since I had allowed myself to regularly practice and nurture my creativity.
After working pretty solidly for people and companies within the creative industry and flexing some creative muscles, I wasn’t deprived… but I had a yearning to let myself create for me.
Fuck it’s hard to get back into it.
Mind my language.
Because we are constantly consuming imagery and looking at beautiful visual references, I think my brain had skipped a few steps to making my own thing, making something that I would also be happy with and making things that don’t have too much of an obvious reference or tie. A thing that I can call my own and look at and share and not cringe.
At the beginning, I hadn’t realised or remembered maybe how much time things took. Also, what I have just realised while writing this, that the last time I was ‘creating’ (sorry for the wanky term) was in university where it is your life and you don’t need to also earn money and navigate adulting.
To cut a long (and pretty uneventful) story short.
Like many, many other people it seems, I think Julia Cameron saved me. Going through The Artist Way gave me the structure, insight and bravery to make.
Moving to a new country away from all London-based distractions also helped.
In a strange way so did Covid-19… life was forced into 4 walls, with it came the need to play.
This simple little embroidery was the first moment where there was something I was happy with. A lovely feeling.
Since then confusion, turmoil, helplessness, anger, swearing, ecstatic joy.
A start is always good. Actually that was about a year ago. Wow.