December 2018

Welcome to the latest installment of my digital perzine!
This issue contains words about suitcases, stuff, and self-doubt.

On packing and process and products

My bedroom is a mess. I am packing and condensing my life into two large suitcases. After a decade of living in Toronto, I am moving to Vancouver. A few days ago, I had the sheer determination to stuff all of my stuff into a single piece of luggage. Then I read the airline’s baggage policy, and I realized it’s much cheaper to have two suitcases that weigh thirty pounds than it is to have one suitcase that weighs sixty pounds.

In my two suitcases, I have amassed a collection of notebooks, three cameras, a blue teapot, my label maker, a Soft’n Slo Squishie Strawberry Layer Cake, art supplies, clothing, and a dozen or so bags ranging from vintage leather purses to my reusable grocery totes. It’s not often that I sort out and itemize the objects that bring me joy. When I realized how many bags I had, I texted a friend to make fun of myself. Appropriately, she objected, specifically at me bringing the shopping bags. After all, Greenpeace was founded on the West Coast, and I could easily acquire new ones upon arrival. Hastily I explained that these bags were special, particularly the promotional one that I had recently embroidered.

Getting a good look at it all, separating the wheat from the chaff, gathering a real-life still life of everything that I want to bring with me gave me an impression of who I am and who I want to be. Notebooks? Cameras? A label maker? I see the kind of person who lives by the light of her own creativity, who keeps track of ideas and files them away for future use. Art supplies? Black clothing? She makes things because she enjoys the process, as well as the product. The teapot? She delights in sharing her creativity with others.

I take my acts of creation seriously. I’ve chipped away at my routine, parsed out the parts that no longer serve me. This is one of my goals in my move to British Columbia - to distance myself from the party girl that used to run around town. These days, I strive to spend as much time as I like in my studio, getting work done. Despite this, I feel inadequate as an artist. I haven’t finished my university education, and I have very limited technical training. I could take out a loan to attend art school, but the strain of paying back debt would hinder my creative daydreams in the long run.

Instead, I have turned my focus on building a body of work. To creating an exoskeleton of my creations. I am hopeful that through erecting this scarecrow, an effigy of the artistic self, comprised of hours spent in the studio keeping my nose down and chin up, I will be able to spook away the doubt. When I find myself in moments of uncertainty I can think of these things, point across the room and shout, “See! There I am, an artist.” And perhaps then my monster will arise and defeat my insecurities in a boss fight of epic self-reflective proportions.

One of the biggest challenges - the most significant hindrance to my work - is me. I get distracted and bored easily. I like to try new things, new mediums. My mind is a steady flurry of ideas and ambitious projects. For example, I have had four different blogs in the past decade. I have hosted a variety of events. In the past year, I have made collages and paintings and zines and embroideries and drawings in pencil crayon and marker and gel pen and a ceramic chia pet and a photo book and who knows what else. I have written poems, creative non-fiction and this newsletter. The worst part is that each time I evolve or start doing something new, I feel the need to delete and dismiss my past work because it no longer feels valuable, is no longer consistent with my present work. Or because I am unsatisfied with how it turned out, and how it reflects on me as an artist.

After these surges of self-editing, I usually feel less certain and more directionless than ever. It begs the question, would I be happier as a creative person if I narrowed my field of vision? Focused on one medium or skill set? If I funneled my creative energy into a sole purpose?

It does seem like the next logical step. As multitasking becomes more and more frowned upon, and our roles in society become specialized, it just doesn’t feel natural.

During each day I bounce around through different activities - a bit of writing, a bit of art-making, reading and playing with small children. I find it hard to maintain my attention on a specific task for more than a few hours. More than that, though, I want my life to be a vibrant stream of activity. I want to learn to knit sweaters and socks, to quilt blankets and vests and table runners, to handbuild plates and mugs and bowls that are served on furniture I have painted, ladled full with a delicious soup cooked from vegetables from a nearby garden. I would love to make comics! To blow glass! And as much as I want to be an artist, I also want to live authentically.
 

At this point, my imagined body of work is much bigger than I originally envisioned. No longer a collection of limbs in a chair, I long to create a space for myself, a home to contain the ideas and projects and daydreams. A place to be, to create and to share with others. I’m moving away from Toronto and I hope I find the room I need.