I’m comfortable being a Sunday sculptor.
It’s a cathartic hobby. In the same way a weekend warrior depends on [insert extreme sport here] to stay sane, my studio practice enables me to show up as my best self for family, friends, and colleagues. Studio Sundays, or stolen studio mornings before work, are my rudder. Without them, I’m one cranky, anxious bitch.
I made a decision eight years ago not to make studio work my sole pursuit. I could have done it. Life availed herself, beckoning me to swim in the ocean of pure unfettered creativity. But that felt frivolous and lonely.
The studio is an isolating place for me. The act of making objects that maybe forty people will see in a gallery feels selfish. Especially amidst the backdrop of a civilization and environment coming unhinged and crashing down all around me. So I took a leap outside of every comfort zone I’ve always stayed within and started Now + There in 2015 to help make other artists’ works visible at one thousand times the scale my solo practice might have reached.
Six years later, I cannot believe what we have achieved. I also cannot deny that along the way I had moments of wonder that my work as an artist could, or even should, be more recognized. So when Brian Hone of the Isabella Steward Gardner Museum first emailed me in February 2021 with an invitation to be part of the Gardner’s “In The Studio” video series, I read the email twice. Maybe three times.
I’ve been fooled before by invitations to nominate a fellow artist for a fellowship, award, or opportunity. In my haste, dashing between meetings, coaching an anxious team member, or negotiating with a persnickety artist’s last-minute change, I’ve had my moments of Magical Thinking. “Ah,” I’ll think, “they finally found me.” (Classic garden-variety artist egotistical thinking takes over me too.) But then I’m snapped back into the reality of the Annual Campaign letter jammed in the printer and I know this Golden Ticket email is for someone else.
But this time, someone did really want to give me an opportunity to share my work.
I’m incredibly grateful to Brian, the Gardner, and videographer Daymian Mejia for the video found here. And maybe a little sad. But it’s “all of me,” and I’m genuinely looking forward to the conversations it sparks.
If nothing else, I can’t wait to share more of the small works that show up in the background of my vulnerability. And in the meantime, I’ll keep checking my inbox for exhibition opportunities.