Hello there! It's Jocelyn Mathewes from my studio in Appalachia. And I’m searching for motivation and purpose in my work.
This interview with Brian Rutenburg, “Following ‘The White-hot Fire Inside You,” recently provided me with some great motivation.
“The only way to be a painter is to make paintings. That means not doing other stuff.”
“There is great poetry and power in repetition, in doing the same thing over, and over, and over, and over again. No one talks about that.”
“There is nothing weaker than a painting that tries too hard. Do what comes easily. When it stops being fun, you’re doomed. If a painting sucks, I quit.”
It was inspiring, but I also envied his highly routine studio practice, which he grew over decades like the rings of an ancient tree.
I’ve often fantasized about idolized such a regimented studio practice. What I perceive within that schedule is the freedom to choose that schedule for one’s self. But a chronically ill caregiver’s life is not that.
Dwelling on the difference can only turn envy into resentment. Jealousy is only helpful if it is ingested and then expelled after having taken what you need from it—using it as fuel for something else.
So here I am, feeling fizzled out. What does one do to find the white hot fire inside you? As I did earlier this year, I’m looking back to look forward. While looking at my old work, I ask the questions: What remains true? What is left unsaid? What could be said again?
what remains true in my work
I am enamored by certain processes, creating iterative experiments. I often think in series or create a project based on a single concept. My working principle as an artist seems to be create what captivates you with whatever you have available.*
This approach forces me to be resourceful and highly adaptive, but its habits tend to allow in external pressures more often than I’d like. I’m proficient at improvising in response to a change in outside plans. I’m less practiced at shifting my environment or obligations to support a certain aim or medium.
Another side-effect of adapting as life throws things at you is that you can feel scattered, frustrated, and lose momentum. The work itself can flit between topics and mediums, which isn’t good when the market economy keeps telling you to monetize or niche-down.
And so I’m asking myself: How does this approach influence the shape of my audience? In what ways does this compromise or is advantageous to the work?
what is left unsaid in my work
The aim of my work and the larger concepts I frequently tackle are not strung together in much beyond autobiography—why, besides my life experience, do they captivate me?
In The Art of Asking, Amanda Palmer introduces her blender theory of art, that “the amount of distance from the ‘reality of our experience’ to the ‘art we create’ spans a scale of one to ten on the blender of art-making.”
Are there things I am longing or seeking to understand that I need make explicit? Or maybe I need to turn up the art blender?
what could be explored again
If I focus on the things that captivate me, that are accessible to me, and that tie back in to what I’ve done before—
Mediums:
film photography
textiles
paper craft
Themes:
parenthood
illness/wellness
navigation
space exploration
I’m asking all these questions in order to rekindle my own inner fire for artmaking. Over the past year and a half, the shifts in my personal life have put the aims and goals of my work in a new context.
in the studio
As the cold weather moves my practice indoors, I started tending to my needful equipment and supplies. Winter brings a lot of textile-based work, so I knew my wonky sewing machine would need some help. What started out as DIY sewing machine maintenance turned into a need for total replacement.
I now look ahead to a winter full of learning curves along with new work—some small quilt projects, at least.
In the meanwhile, I’ve been testing new papers—
…and testing new forms—
xo,
jocelyn
P.S. One of my ways of trying to cultivate more hope has been to create affirming vocational pins for myself and various creatives —
These encouraging pins are available here on my website. Use the code NEWSLETTER for 10% off your order.
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