As I shift my attention from prioritizing one obsession—my garden—to prioritizing my other obsession—my art, I am, as usual, steeped in the ambiguity that is the hallmark of all transitions—that liminal space of standing on a threshold.
As I wrote about here, I don’t think humans can really make themselves turn on a dime because transitions are a mutation process that takes time.
But as I was attending to my process of switching gears, I noticed that one of the tried and true ways I always ease myself over that threshold is through simple, concrete action.
Tasks.
Tidying.
Doing.
Because constantly thinking about all the ideas I have for making new artwork can’t help me shift my focus. Those ideas are still living in the ambiguity of my imagination. And you can’t use ambiguity to get you out of ambiguity.
Which is why concrete action always works. The more mundane the better. Sanding and gesso-ing panels. Ordering supplies. Clearing studio tables.
Or in this case, creating my long overdue natural dyes journal.
After a winter of obsessively making natural dye samples, I had delayed creating my reference book because I had a fantasy of writing all my notes with a dip pen using inks I made myself. But first, I had to learn how to make ink and get comfortable with a dip pen. (I know! I know!)
Unsurprisingly, it turns out that making ink is a seemingly simple process that is actually subtle and complex—who knew? And using a dip pen with those homemade inks on the thick soft pages of the blank book I chose for my journal even trickier.
So I finally let that fantasy go and spent a few days cutting up and gluing swatches, writing notes, and organizing my book. It’s still a work in progress, but now it’s a physical object that has, in its concreteness, graciously held out its hand to help me cross my own threshold.
Which is why I made the short video above of my little journal-in-progress.
Because making samples and recording results are such a big part of any artist’s process. We create tools and vehicles of exploration for ourselves that help us think and expand our imaginations. These artifacts are rarely artworks themselves, but still may takes months to finish.
While I ostensibly made this journal because I need to consult it as a reference manual for years to come, I tackled it now because it was a concrete task that would help me shift gears. But, just as I was finishing it up to make this video, I realized that taking the time to create this little book hasn’t just helped me shift my focus back to my art from my garden. It’s actually helped a few of those nascent art ideas bouncing around my imagination to become more real.
Because doing always brings things to life in ways that thinking-thinking-thinking never will.
I can’t tell you how pleasurable that is.
P.S. In the video, you might notice the letters: W.O.F. at the top of a lot of the journal pages. That stands for “weight of fiber.” The weight of the fiber determines how much dye you use to create a particular depth of shade.
Share this post