On Tuesday, I finished the distillation process. 180 papers now sit on my studio table. It's an interesting way to start the year; it is just the beginning of February and I have already completed or have had my hand in 180 pieces of art. Like pages of a giant sketchbook, they are the evidence of my dedication to an idea. They remind me what I am capable of and what I believe in. I read somewhere that we are what we repeatedly do and every day last month except one, I painted.
I ask a lot from my work and at times it is unfair of me to do this. I can't keep asking for something from my work if I don't also give to it. I got back from the distillation process what I put into it. While working on the process, I was also reminded that I can lie to myself but my art never lies. This is one of the many reasons why I love making art. It has been a constant and dependable companion for so long. I haven't always treated my art as well as I could have; I have taken it for granted, I have been angry with it, and at times I have been very doubtful of its intentions in my life.
I've not thanked my art enough for all it has given me. Working on my art helped to rewire my brain over time to create more pathways to happiness and wholeness. My work helps me live less in fear and with more confidence and curiosity. Art has introduced me to the most fascinating people and has lead to wonderful conversations with strangers (now friends) from all over the world.
I told a friend earlier in the week that art is my armor, my solace, and my connection. The world can't mess with me when I am surrounded by art. That's why now, more than ever, it is important to keep making art for ourselves and for each other. We have political things to tend to and we have to show up and take action, but we also have to make our art. If you think this doesn't apply to you, I urge you to find your art. Find it and let it rebuild you, comfort you, and inspire you and then let it give comfort to the world.
Until next week, keep fighting.