“But can you do it again?”
I knew the answer, but my demons get their way sometimes too and doubt creeps in.
I had rented the studio. Drove to New Jersey in the pouring rain to pick up the perfect FB marketplace work table. Ordered the giant roll of canvas. Made lots of trips to the art store for things I absolutely didn’t need.
All the things were organized and ready for…ME.
I even have studio plants.
…then I proceeded to organize some more.
I went through all my past work, wrote down each project, the date, the process. It was nostalgic, revealing and confidence boosting.
As I sat in a nearly empty studio, inching towards my biggest desire to be back in the flow of painting, my subconscious must have felt it was important for future-me to feel good about past-me's accomplishments.
So I recounted instead of starting.
Because starting is scary. On the other side of starting is failing. Or flying.
Whatever I was going to make now and whatever process I'd use, would not be what I did 10 years ago.
So I started scratching for inspiration.
I wrote. I drew. I made a bunch of little things that later found the garbage can. It was perfect. The proverbial cleaning of the cobwebs.
I was finally starting.
But nothing felt significant or significant enough. You know, that feeling when you cross the line from just practicing to really caring.
Then I went on a trip. Spring turned to early Summer and I got an idea of what I wanted to work on. I tacked up a big piece of canvas and got started. For real this time.
That was mid May in NYC. The next 4 months was the most glorious, playful, luscious summer I can remember in a long long time. I danced, I played, I made these paintings. It was the sexiest of summers.
It was me, myself and I in the studio.
As for the big idea, it also evolved and I was ok with that. Where one painting ended it left clues for where the next ones would start.
The original big idea was to create abstract paintings based on each one of my closest friends. The first painting, Reinitiation, started as that and quickly took on a life of its own.
Towards the end of that painting elements of the figure started to appear and in the next few paintings I drew from photographs from the trip I had taken.
Later elements of yoga mudras came in and that took the next few paintings in yet another direction.
Collections always tell a story, some are tightly knit narratives and some are remnants of an experience, a space and time. This collection is the latter. It was my reinitiation into being with myself in the studio.
Maybe the question is less “Can you do it again?”, and more of “Who will you be as you do it again?”
Here’s a few photos of some of the painting in Reinitiation. I’ll be back later this week with more details on each of the paintings and an info sheet.
Till then my warmest,
Michelle
PS. If you missed my earlier email about returning to painting you can read that here.
PPS. If you want to chat about the paintings reply to this email or DM me on Instagram here.
