A Note from My Studio - May 2022

While I have - at least for today - a beautiful home and studio in Wilmington North Carolina, someone new will be enjoying that as I pack all - well, a lot - of my belongings and head to Sarasota Florida permanently. I now have a Florida drivers license which somehow makes it feel official. We will live in our beach condo while we renovate a home and studio in a lovely historic area… But that’s another blog post for another day, right? This is about Wilmington.

And as excited as I am about living in Sarasota, I have mostly dreaded moving studios and states, as it involves canceling my exhibit schedule for the rest of the year - four exhibits for the second half of 2022 to be precise, stopping my projects temporarily, clearing out my supplies, selling the furniture, which is too heavy and bulky to move, and moving on. Then, there’s my artwork. All. That. Artwork.

Some know I began painting full-time in 2018 with small and then gradually larger watercolor abstracts. I’ve switched styles and materials as I’ve learned and continued finding my creative voice. While I have sold a lot of paintings, I still have a lot; I work quite a lot of hours a week, and it adds up! Some of the earliest work before I even did abstract paintings, and then some from 2018, some from 2019, and 2020… You get the idea. Things pile up a bit. There’s nothing wrong with the artwork, I love every piece of art that I create and put into the world. The painting process itself is so engaging. Some of the work just doesn’t go anywhere while I’m creating it. I know it right away and it’s not hard for that to hit the bin in a hurry. But some of it I totally enjoy creating even with the struggles, and I love it when I’m finished. Yet, it’s not precious and I can’t keep all of it. What would I do with it? The work no longer represents who I am or what I’m putting into the world now, so I won’t show it, and it didn’t sell.

So, what to do? I appreciate it. As I walk each painting that I no longer have space in my life for to the dumpster, I remember it… the exhibits it was in and the awards that it won, and I appreciate the process that created it. I remember what I went through and what I learned and where it has brought me today. This is true detachment. I toss it into the dumpster and I feel lighter and a bit freer.

As I sit here with my first cup of coffee this morning, I realize how much I’m walking away from, even as I acknowledge that I’m walking towards some thing that’s right for me. I will miss you Wilmington. I will miss my friends, acquaintances and fellow members, my neighbors, gallerists, clients old and new, visitors, and my studio itself. Because, for me, this is where my art journey took hold and I began to live my life as the artist I always wanted to be. I have felt your support and have become more confident in my process and my work, for which I am so grateful. I’ll stop here because, let’s face it. I’ve got a lot of packing to do.

So, stick with me. Believe me when I tell you that I remember each person I’ve met along the way and how you figure into my journey. So, it's not "goodbye", but rather "see you later". heart