Anyone who tends a garden, or even does any form of yard work, knows that we have no control over the weather. It’s even debatable to think we have control over the things growing in our gardens. We fight the good fight and pull the weeds, drag the hose around, and prune out the deadwood, but Nature does what She will and we can only adapt to the unpredictability of each season. Oh sure, the big things are predictable—it’s warm in summer and cold in winter—but the devil is in the details, we cannot expect to stand in the same river twice.
As a creative person, I find no fun in doing the same thing over and over again. I have a reputation for doing my own thing, for experimenting instead of following the rules. Just ask my husband about how I can’t cook the same dish the same way twice. I am either thinking about how it could be different, or how it could be more efficient, or how it can adapt it to the ingredients I have on hand. I have a feeling that Nature does something similar, as She also adapts year after year.
When I started my design business I was told the recipe for success: make a brand guide, find a niche, and be predictable, among other things. As I tried to force myself into a specific box I realized I do not belong in a box (and neither should anyone else). I am an artist who likes to use a variety of mediums, subject to what my intuition envisions for that project. This is different from the ability to focus or to produce professional quality work. This is about the process of thinking and working that cannot be contained in a box.
Why should I limit myself to a single medium when I am inspired to use something quite different? Why do I need to find my singular style if I enjoy creating in different styles? When did the work of an artist become so rigid that they cannot practice in different areas at the same time?
I own my variability in the kitchen, so I decided to own my variability in the studio. I thrive in an environment where I can feel free to express myself without someone telling me to conform to a predictable niche. My creativity is mine to do with what I will. It is like that river that can be lazy or rapid, always flowing and changing.
That brings me to change on a larger level, to that place where change is frustratingly hard and out of control. My health took a turn over a year ago and it has been an uphill battle trying to maintain any of my habitual activities, much less run a design business. So I’ve decided that I need to revise what is happening here and reimagine something new instead of fighting against the change.
I toyed with the idea of just quitting. After all, I was walking against the current and a break would be welcome. Then I listened to Lisa Congdon’s podcast on Loud Quitting and thought, wow, I can get behind everything she said. I should take a deep look at all of my own things and see where that leads.
And so I've re-imagined a studio practice where I give myself permission to:
rest when I need it,
make what I enjoy making,
play and create in different mediums,
share my work when it's ready,
help others find a space to play and create,
disconnect from the worry about marketability, and
create from a place of authenticity.
This then leads to changes happening on my website, my blog, and my newsletters to reflect my new practice. I retired my business name and the domain I registered for it because that identity no longer serves me. I have a new email address and a new domain name, which is surprisingly, my name, because what are the odds that would actually be available?!
I am sure web links will break, emails will bounce, and there will be confusion. I apologize now for any inconvenience. It is a work in process, just like my art practice, just like my garden, and just like life.
What I can be assured of, what I know no matter what, is that the flowers will bloom in their own time and that’s all that matters.
