As I re-build my business, not quite from the ground up, (the foundation remains, but the structures above must be replaced), I find I am spending a lot of time in the realm of not-knowing.

Life under pandemic has changed our rhythms and routines, our customary locations, and how we spend our time. My husband and I (but especially him) used to spend way too much time driving from place to place, because our work was in-person but also in a variety of locations.

Now by building up our tech and online skills, there is so much new and in flux but so much less by way of complications and travel. We just have to adjust to frequently re-arranging our home and studio to accommodate all the new virtual events and courses.

But looking deeper than that, I realize I am accustomed to spending a lot of time in that place of not-knowing, whether I'm developing new work for an exhibition, or at an earlier stage even, when I am excavating in order to discover new ideas in my studio, it is imperative that I enter that psychological space, or I will not get to what matters or what's new. Neither I nor my work would grow.

Other artists may work differently, but I think most have to work like that at some level, (and not just artists either!) or they would not make discoveries. And without locating something new, something fresh, where would art be? It would not move forward, nor would it deepen.

Spring is a season of the new: new growth, new life. And as this weekend is one of sacred spring festivals, Passover and Easter, it may be the perfect time to contemplate this.

​Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

“Seek experiences that make you nervous, where you’re right on the edge of blowing it. Try not to blow it, but if you do blow it, learn from it and keep on keeping on.”

— JASON HARDY, digital designer and 
self-proclaimed “creative generalist”

I read this quote today in a profile of Jason Hardy and had to share it with you. He's found a vivid way of expressing what I seem to keep doing, what I know I must do, though I have times when I shrink from it and other times when I embrace it whole-heartedly.

There is a nervous sensation I get just below my solar plexus that I've come to recognize as my friend (my exciting, daredevil friend!). Without it I would not grow or learn or DARE the way I do. Those experiences in turn shape who I am as an artist and as a person, so I would not recognize myself without that "friend".

"Explorer's instinct" might be a good name for that impulse, one that has led me on some life-changing physical journeys as well as guided me to the challenging projects I've taken on in recent years.

My current show 'Chains Unlinked' was the latest example. I submitted a proposal that I thought was exciting, that would create an interesting, integrated experience as well as a visually distinctive and dramatic use of the space. I felt good about sending it in.

Then I got the acceptance letter! At first I was (of course!) pleased and excited, but at a certain point reality set in and I thought "Oh sh*t! Now I have to figure out how to actually do this!"

Figuring it out as you go along is part of the fun, terror and excitement of straying into unknown territory. What's important to remember is that it's rarely fatal (!), and you are allowed to ask for help and advice along the way! 

We often forget to ask for help. It's something I'm still working on myself. I know I've made progress though because this group of work only happened due to the help and support of many people.

I thought it would be fun to include a few photos of projects that were big stretches for me, that led to some moments of dark terror as well as giant leaps of faith and many miracles, large and small.

Whether the new challenges you take on are massive or modest in scope, they are the most direct path to growth, in creativity, experience and confidence. They make us nervous though because by definition they require us to risk failure.

The final day of installation started with clean-up. Tarps came down, drapery went up, then we spent hours getting the unlinked chains up and their positioning and angles fine-tuned.

At day's end we were done; it only remained for the professional installers to light everything so you could see it properly. They did a great job! In fact the difference between how it looked when we left and after they lit it was an object lesson in the importance of properly lighting a show. I've been in shows where some of the work had half (if that) of the light it actually needed.

One major improvement that occurred with proper lighting was that the white layer of drawing on the drapery panels become visible where in low light only the black layer could be seen easily.

The Art Gallery of Mississauga's 'Walk the Talk' event is coming up and includes a tour of all three shows and informal talks from some of the artists, including me. 

I will talk about how I layered up a kind of evolution of meaning and experience while keeping things thematically tight yet physically airy in a small space. I may also talk about taking on projects that risk failure to stimulate my own growth and creativity. 

Bring your questions and observations and we'll have an interesting discussion about it.

Please join me:
Saturday, July 25, 2015 at 1pm
Art Gallery of Mississauga (click on name to go to their page)

P.S. The time-lapse below is a bit too fast. I'll try to improve it when I edit the whole installation process into a single video.