Art in Abundance
It’s the middle of October and a true change of season underway in my little home studio in Two Harbors. It’s the time of year where the radiators get flipped back on, and we clear out the furnishings in our three-season porch to tuck it all back in the house in preparation for the colder months. From late May to early October of each year I have the great privilege of having my studio in a space whose walls are mainly windows and am surrounded by hanging plants and natural light. That porch is the most wondrous place to create in, the spaciousness giving my soul room to breathe after a long winter spent indoors.
So, as you might imagine, the chill of October brings a change that I’ll admit, I’m not always thrilled about. But, as the daylight dwindles and the temperatures drop, I find it less and less pleasant to paint in an uninsulated space. So we spend a weekend moving things inside and after just a day or two, everything now has a cozy place in the warmth of our home and the porch sits mostly empty until next spring.
This is the third autumn I have made this move, but this year I experienced it a bit differently than before. This year, I have a lot more art.
I have been creating pretty consistently since 2021 when I made the decision to commit to a creative life. This past summer was packed with markets and art festivals, and an exhibit that just ended after two amazing months. Now, with less space to spread myself out, I realized I have the biggest inventory of original works I’ve ever had.
At first this realization came with a twinge of sadness. All of these framed original paintings stacked one on top of another after being toted around with me all summer or having spent over two months in an exhibit. All of this art, still with me. At the end of the day, I want my work to live with individuals who feel something when they look at them.
There were a few nails in the wall from where I hung a couple framed works last year, so I took a few of my favorites and hung them up. My partner came into the room, looked at the stack on the floor and said, “Why don’t you hang up more? This is your studio, it’s supposed to be filled with your work.”
So I got out my hammer, and I got started. By the time I was done, I’d hung up over half my inventory of original work. That’s right, I plastered our walls with my paintings. Once I had taken up all the space my walls had to offer, I stood back and I don’t think I could have been more proud.
I think as creatives, it could get really easy to look at unsold work as inventory to store away. But I think it’s important not to reduce art to being in either a category of “sold” or “unsold.”
Because what if all this art is evidence that my creative spirit is alive and well? Sold or unsold, seen or unseen, framed or piled one paper on top of another. It doesn’t matter. All it means is that I’ve continued to create, that I’ve grown, I’ve continued to take chances, I’ve experimented, that I have manifested ideas and imagination into something tangible.
I hope that forever and always, as long as I roam this earthly plane, that there is art in abundance wherever I am — evidence that my creative spirit is alive and well.