Now is the winter of our discontented art making

I asked on social media this past week “What is something you’ve always wanted to ask an artist and never gotten a chance to ask?” And I love how folks on social media come through with thoughtful questions:

i would ask them if they’re introverts, how do they deal with the sadness and isolation, because that’s something that goes hand in hand with the nature of the deep creative work. also some tips on how to deal with winter and darkness because that’s my problem too

I love this question because it goes deep into the heart of both the tortured artist myth and the how art making can help alleviate some very real pains in our lives. (Please note that I am not a mental health professional. If you need psychiatric care, please go get it.) I’m offering my take on this question and some things that have helped me manage myself over the years.

Solitary in the studio

I am introvert with extroverted learnings. I recharge by myself: in the studio, reading, or working on this blog. Being in groups and having to be “on” socially is fun and I usually enjoy it but it drains me and I need time to recharge afterwards. I have learned in the past few years that I am particularly sensitive to noise. I don’t know if that’s something that I’ve always been sensitive to or if I’m just discovering it about myself as I’ve learned to sit in the quiet. But one of the things I need most is quietness. The studio offers that quietness.

I am an only child so I’ve always been able to entertain myself by myself. I have a partner and two teens and two dogs and my mom lives seven miles from me. So I have people and/or critters around me most of the time. I’ve learned to go into the studio and make my own solitude.

So to be alone isn’t sad to me and if it’s isolation, it’s self imposed. Maybe I’d feel differently if I weren’t able to emerge from the studio to my puppy licking the cabinets while my youngest child cooks potstickers and eats them over the stove like a gremlin and my older dog sits on my feet demanding belly rubs and my phone is dinging with texts from my older child asking me how to manage the dorm washing machine. My real life can feel pretty chaotic a good bit of the time and I need that solitude of the studio to keep from being a frazzled mess.

Looking for the deep work

I’ve struggled recently with deep work. It is a season of my life when there just legitimately isn’t enough hours in the day. I’m pretty good at squeezing out productive hours and half hours but even those have been hard to find lately. And I know it’s just the season I’m in. My at home kiddo is a junior. We just got a new puppy. My mom just got a new puppy. My partner has had a recent upswing in work commitments. There’s just a lot in my life to manage right now.

But I’ve learned over the course of the past ten years that this work of making art ebbs and flows. Some seasons are intense studio work times and some seasons the rest of my life needs more of my attention. It makes me feel kinda itchy when I’m not able to work in the studio like I want but I know that things change. I just have to be ready to zip into the studio and work when the opportunity presents itself. I touched on some of this in my post last week.

Am I a tortured artist?

No, I’m not. Do I use my art as an outlet for my feels? Absolutely. I just finished reading “Feel Something, Make Something: A Guide to Collaborating with Your Emotions” by Caitlin Metz. They talk about channeling what we feel into the art making process and it’s just spot on. They have some really great practices in there that I’ve started incorporating into my own practice. While it’s too soon to say what the impact of those practices will be, they feel good when I use them.

And listen, our art practices should make us feel better overall. This is a hill I will die on. Why do it if it isn’t life giving and life affirming? Are there hard days? Are the some days I hate everything I make? Yes, of course. But overall, it should make you feel better about yourself and not worse. Making art for me is about showing up for myself and releasing all those hard things during the time I’m making. And maybe even in the making some of those hard things are soothed.

We need to take care of our bodies

I’ll be the first to say, I am shit at this part of the practice. I don’t get enough exercise. I am a meat sack carrying around my oh so precious brain. I need to be kinder to this body by moving it more and being outside more and just generally treating it better.

My reader asked about the winter and darkness. I struggled with this during the inside time of the pandemic. I bought a $20 sun lamp from Amazon and it helped tremendously. If you need to go to the doctor to get a medication adjustment or to eat more regularly or to go take a dang walk, do that. If for no other reason that your practice might flourish because of it. You might flourish because of it. What a marvelous possibility.

And a step beyond this step is being kind to ourselves when we fall short on these things. We can try again tomorrow or even later today if we need to. I should take my own advice and take a walk.

Thanks to my reader from Bluesky Social for this great question to chew on! I’ll be in touch to get you your postcard! I’m always looking to answer reader’s questions! Let me know yours. Catch up with me on socials, email me, or go old school and leave a comment on this post to be immortalized for all of time.

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