The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
2 books that made me feel things, and other autumnal updates
Happy Friday, and happy autumn, a time that is a treat for the senses in northern BC:
A welcome to all the new readers. It seems a number of you found your way here through friend of the newsletter Darrin Rigo, so I’m gratefully shouting out his Substack North of Somewhere, for any who take an interest in all things Prince George/northern BC. And if you’d like to know more about my own work, you can visit my website, my Instagram, or the archive of my posts here on Substack.
For the season, here is a recent illustration I’ve been painting - all things from recent walks:
Self portrait on one of these walks, in my all-season uniform of shacket and Docs:
Outside the window of my studio room, the aspen and birch trees turn yellow and as thunder claps, heavy rains knock down piles of leaves. When you live in a place with four distinct seasons, you’re never far from a reminder that the only constant is change.
All day long, I laugh as I watch industrious squirrels cart away mushrooms bigger than their heads and bound away to their secret lairs. They remind me of the squirrel scene in The Sword in the Stone, a childhood favourite.
I learned that this squirrel stockpiling circus is called hoarding behaviour. My own version is with books: when I lived in Victoria, I worked in a giant (multi-story, multi-building) secondhand bookstore, where it was far too easy to collect rare, cheap books - a squirrelly habit that hasn’t stopped.
Last month I scored a used bookshelf tall enough for my art books (not shown are the two other bookshelves across the room full of fiction/poetry/etc), and wouldn’t you know I’ve felt excited to get in this room now that the piles are off the floor, I’ve rediscovered old titles I forgot that I had, and remembered that I’m a collector of knowledge with interesting things to share.
Ages ago I pre-ordered two books from a couple of my favourite living artists: One Week in January by Carson Ellis and Processing by Tara Booth. By September I’d forgotten about them until they arrived in my mailbox on a Friday afternoon, on the tail of a frustrating week - a random but perfectly timed gift from my past self. (Highly recommend the practice of pre-ordering books by creators you love).
Unintentionally, but necessarily, I stopped sharing anything on social media for a couple months and when I came back I shared a post about living with an anxious mind. TL;DR I am doing well, but anxiety can be a rollercoaster, and once my eyelid started twitching for a whole day (a condition I once experienced for 4 months straight), I knew my body was sending a strong message to chillllll.
In the midst of some mental weather-storms, Carson and Tara’s books have brought home the impact of telling one’s own story, warts and all. I take great delight in many joyful things, of course, but it’s the vulnerable, honest, and sometimes painful moments in art that I mostly deeply connect to. Artists have a unique power to reflect complicated stories and emotions to us, and in seeing their work we might feel less alone. That doesn’t mean we won’t find a laugh along the way! Her book is about the ugly depths of mental illness, sobriety, and recovery, but Tara Booth is still one of few artists who can actually make me laugh out loud. Warning: obscene dog content below, sorry, but turning to this unhinged page from Processing made me actually cackle while sitting alone:
Carson Ellis’ One Week in January is a welcome addition to the literature of “boring stuff.” The book’s text comes straight from a diary/daily log that Carson kept for just one week in 2001 - no emotional content, just reportage from each waking hour. It wasn’t until two decades later that she created the gouache paintings for the book, turning her experienced eye to the life her younger self, when her artistic aspirations were just beginning. It gave me a new appreciation for the way that images alongside text create a third, magical thing.
These books, and the things these artists both can do with gouache paint, brought me energy to return to a personal painting project that’s lived in the background of my year. I don’t know exactly what these pieces are yet, only that they are related to mental health, reflections from a period of living alone, past experiences with anxiety and depression, lessons learned in therapy and through spiritual practices, and my love of art related to everyday life and the domestic sphere.
The seeds of this project have lived in my head, and in sketchbook drawings and notes, for months and years, and it’s time to give them some life. I’ve been plodding ahead with for one hour here, one there, a little each day before doing anything else. Just starting with the pleasure of putting colours next to one another. I alternate between three paintings at a time, so that they’ll look somewhat cohesive, I don’t have to wait for paint layers to dry, and I don’t get too precious about any single piece.
I’ve been scared to share about these for many reasons: they’re not so similar to my other work and my “brand,” the idea is too basic, it’s too personal, people will judge it, etc. Then I came across this interview between writer Sheila Heti and painter Amy Stillman, where they discuss doing the thing that most embarrasses them in their work. What happens when you take the things you think are most unimportant and trivial and make them the very centre?
Sometimes, we just have to climb Cringe Mountain and “submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”
Assorted ideas and art for October:
Ta-Nehisi Coates speaking important words on Palestine, his visit to the beaches of Senegal, and more.
Hua Hsu (author of Stay True, a great memoir) wrote a great profile of novelist Richard Powers (author of The Overstory, a great novel).
In the last month I have applied for 3 different artist residencies. It’s exciting to try for these kinds of opportunities, but they are competitive and one must temper expectations. I’ve already received my first rejection back, which has me remembering that you can easily appoint yourself as the artist in residence of your world (park/sidewalk/library/etc).
Helpful business stuff for creatives (I’m always on the lookout for this!): some tips for freelancing, and Katherine May on how to talk about your work in public.
My own business stuff: you can commission a painting, work with me on a commercial illustration project, or peruse my online shop for original artworks and illustrated goods. And for PG people, save the date: I’ll be vending at the Whimsy & Wonder Holiday Market at Two Rivers Gallery on the weekend of November 30-December 1.
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