TL;DR: Starting over means starting over. You cannot run into freedom while looking to the past (trying to do so will turn you into a Pillar of Salt).
04/23/2026
Last Thursday, I met with one of my art-friends at a local coffee shop. The purpose of this meeting was to feel out my current project. It’s hard to say that I was disappointed by the conversation (since I am able to recognize that it might have been unfair of me to have any expectations in the first place). Nonetheless, I think that the conversation was, in a word, disappointing.
I didn’t expect a pat-on-the-back. I didn’t want a pat-on-the-back. I didn’t get a pat-on-the-back. And, that’s good. “Atta girls” only go so far when you’ve hit a roadblock. But the conversation was difficult… I didn’t really get any unique or new feedback… There wasn’t anything that was said that was particularly interesting or challenging… In many ways, I felt like I was trying to vouch for an unfinished product. And -in many ways- that’s all I was really doing.
04/24/2026
The following day, on Friday, I had spent some time in the studio. My objective for the evening was two-fold: I needed to make progress (of any variety) on my project, and I needed to make sense of the lackluster conversation that took place the day prior.
I figured that I needed to do some composition/material studies… So I created an egg-tempera-acrylic-hybrid paint and painted a series of pink squares on 140 paper. (On a very unrelated note: I actually love the paint formulation that I was working with. I think the fact that I painted on paper eliminated 90% of the issues I was having with just egg tempera on the Corelle, and it made the process monumentally easier. I still have to figure out how to get this to translate to the plates, but that is a battle for next week.) While working on these little composition studies, the following ideas were floating through my head. These are listed in no particular order:
1. Why was that conversation so difficult?
2. What is the dollar amount that my plates are worth? (If $40.00, then why do I care so much about the quality of the idea they are carrying. If the idea is worth more than $40.00, then what is the idea worth? Is that a weird way to think of ideas?)
3. These plates aren’t as good as I want them to be. Is that because of my skill set (maybe, but unlikely)? Or is that because I am trying to do one thing, and say another?
4. Why is my previous experience failing me in this moment?
5. What am I trying to do, or accomplish? I am taking steps toward that? Or are my goals misaligned with my actions?
Needless to say, my time in the studio was incredibly frustrating.
So, I took a moment and asked myself the following question: If I wasn’t me, if I was someone else, what advice would I give myself? What honest advice did I want from my friend that I did not get?
Then… I had a beer, and I went to bed.
04.25.2026
“What advice would I give myself?”
That question really stuck in my mind and ruined my morning. I was supposed to go to a bookstore opening with a friend (in part to support the local business, and in part to encourage my friend to be more vocal about the book she has written). I cancelled. Instead, I stayed home and crocheted.
“What advice did I want? What is the thing I need to hear, but that I didn’t hear? Why was that conversation so disappointing? Why do I always have to vouch for my ideas?”
“Why do I always have to vouch for my ideas?”
There it is.
That’s the root of the problem.
I realized, as I was sitting at home, trying my best to chip away at 1 of 2 baby blankets I am making for my friends, that my problem isn’t my ideas… It’s the quality of their execution.
See, I haven’t ever commercially engaged with the arts. In the past, I haven’t been able to. I have always run into the same obstacle: I feel like to “get” what I am trying to do, you have to know me. My work cannot speak for itself.
The fact that strangers cannot engage with my work in a deep and meaningful way, at least without me present, speaks directly to the quality of work that I produce. My work “needing” my voice is not a good thing. It is the very thing that is holding me back. My work sucks!
So, no wonder this conversation I had on Thursday was awful… I was trying to reason around problems that aren’t the actual issue. I was doing the very typical and expected thing that I always do: overintellectualizing. The truth is so much simpler than that. The truth is that I have a very good idea, a very valuable idea. I just need to make work that convinces others of its quality without needing additional context or conversation. It needs to be self-contained and self-evidently important. If not, why would any reasonable person care about it?
I walked down to my studio and looked at the terrible plates that I have been working on. They are on their third iteration. Every time I have restarted this project, I have tried to redo the same thing… with better materials. Every time the project has felt like an increasing failure…
I like this concept. I think this body of work (if I am ever able to see it through) will contribute good things to the world. I am hopeful of that.
It will never do that as it exists.
I have to start over.
Damn.
04.30.2026
I am trying to find freedom in the very little I have. This past week, I have really deconstructed my studio practice. I’ve taken all of my artwork off of my website. I have deleted all of my Instagram posts. My primary fear, now, is replicating the past. If I am going to start over, I need to truly start over. I cannot look back.
On Tangent: I’ve never been able to wear my hair curly. In all of this, I have decided that I need to learn how to wear my curls. I want to be the kind of person who takes morning showers. I have never been that kind of person. If I can figure out how to wear my hair curly, I might be able to become someone who takes morning showers.
Here’s to washing dishes and morning showers. Cheers!
EARTH-GIRL 