On my studio wall today.

My first Artist Project as an exhibitor was everything I hoped for and more. I sold well, I got lots of attention from visitors and industry folk. I even got some press coverage and was included on an ArtWalk. But what I value most was the opportunity to connect with art enthusiasts, collectors, and fellow artists.

I wish I had more photos from the event, but taking a photo is not something I usually think of when someone buys a painting or visits my booth. I suppose that makes me a bit old-fashioned, and that’s ok. I was able to listen, to witness people connecting with my work.

Why create?

After Artist Project this question has been more my mind more than usual. Since childhood one of my chief interests has been communicating. Words, images, sound—how to use them to say something true and meaningful?

And the biggest thrill of the show was discovering that my paintings reach people, and they say some of the things I hoped they’d say. Wonder, complexity, interconnection, peace—these aren’t just my studio fantasies. That was extremely validating—an indication that what I see and what you see are as close as I hoped. I came away encouraged.

The value of art

The other thing I found incredibly encouraging was the work of other artists. Just before the fair began I walked the show and found myself grinning as I strolled the aisles. The creativity and variety of expression touched me deeply. I marvelled at this incredible capacity of human beings.

You just need a quick glance at the news to confirm a dark view of humanity, to despair of the Anthropocene. But walking the floor I felt the other side keenly. We are also miraculous, creative, and full of hope. It felt good to luxuriate in our better qualities.

Many visitors to my booth expressed a need for art as an antidote to the state of the world. Not to stick their heads in the sand, but as a counterweight to keep the dark and the light balanced. That’s something I am very happy to contribute to.

Easing in to the studio

I’ve ordered new stretchers and started prepping some smaller canvases. At the moment I’m painting on off-cuts of unstretched canvas, getting back in touch with my materials after all the show preparations.

This contact isn’t instant. I need to leave a task-oriented state of mind behind and enter into something more open, less linear, less tethered to time. I lean on the woods, the river, the sound of sandhill cranes in the distance, and try to be patient. It will come.