A Safe Space

In 2023 my studio journal was bulging with ideas and lots of painting experiments and colour. Studio Journal 2024? It’s a wet squib! Started in January with lots of enthusiasm but hardly touched since. It’s a sad thing to see.

This year has been a dry one for me and I’ve been floundering around trying to find my path, a thread to pull on, a spark of light to follow.

There’s been some high points, the Henshaw album was a particular special one, seeing people with my art blazoned across their chests at festivals and gigs was rather lovely – that’s on t-shirts by the way, not as a tattoo, that would be far too complicated! And having four of my pieces at an exhibition at Footprint in Jackfield was exciting and at the opening event I felt very arty, though I still felt like an imposter. You tread very carefully around your own display, praying that you hear complements and not ´my goat paints better than that´. My artist’s ego is very sensitive!

The search for your “own voice” and your personal “view of gold” can become all consuming and, somewhere along the way in my search I’d just frozen, like a rabbit in the headlights. I’d forgotten how to play and got caught up in the preparation stage – you should see my beautifully organised plastic wallets of collage papers and other assorted fodder, they are a delight to behold and now, far too tidy to be messed with!

I’d become withdrawn and caught up in the art myth that inspiration comes in a quiet, tortured place of solitude. Whilst you sit in a perfect studio gazing whimsically at the view. Nope! For me that just doesn’t work, it just makes me want to watch TV and eat chocolate.

The answer? Take heed of the advice of the real creative inspirers and get amongst it. Find a community of creatives and soak up the warm feeling of being at home.

At home I’ve got all my arty books out and I’m flicking through them, being inspired by the inventiveness and passion of others and I’m taking steps to reach out and find my arty tribe.

Outdoors? Actually speak to people? This was a tricky step and I started gently with a trip to the Knit and Stitch show with some lovely art friends that I hadn’t seen for far too long.

It felt like I needed more than that though and I’d heard about an art community called the ArtShack a good while ago and been interested but hadn’t committed because I was nervous about entering a new artistic environment and because it’s a half-hour drive away.

When I found they offered creative sessions that allowed you to work alone on your own projects, but alongside others I knew it was worth trying. This is my ideal community working environment. It’s gets me into the right gear. I signed up for one session and I haven’t looked back.

I come away from my three hours of playing feeling energised and then find the high mood stays with me and I feel motivated to make proper use of my studio at home. The two places flow into each other and keep my inspiration levels high.

This being in an actual place works far better for me. I’ve tried very hard, but I just can’t gel with the many online art communities that I’ve tried. They serve a purpose, they’ve brought creativity to a much wider audience than traditional classes and many are amazing, but for me, it makes creating art feel like work. The Zoom calls, the courses and the constant personal feedback? I never stop feeling like a student and I get overly caught up in managing rather than visually expressing my emotions.

Then there’s selling yourself and your brand on social media. That’s not helped me relax, just writing it down like this makes me shudder. I love sharing what I’m making and it’s wonderful when someone reaches out and wants to pay hard cash for something I’ve made, and if I want to make room on my walls and in my studio selling has to be the best way to support and fund my art materials habit. Resolving my uncomfortable feelings about the way Facebook and particularly Instagram are going will require more thought I think.

So? A safe space? That is what ArtShack has become for me, a place I can take a project, an idea, an exploration of a new technique and I can play. There are materials if I’ve forgotten something, usually a craft knife or something weird like a rolling pin that has us rooting through boxes and looking on shelves. There’s coffee and biscuits, always a bonus and, most importantly a gentle hum of talk and the warming vibe of people concentrating and getting pleasure in the simple art of putting colour on paper or fabric. It’s heavenly.

I’m not waiting until 2025 to set up the studio journal for the year, I’ve done it now in October 2024. It feels appropriate to draw a line and start this new phase with a new sketchbook, and it’s starting to fill up already.