Our joy is our power

Well, shit. 

There is a certain way those two words are said together in my head in an Arkansas accent that conveys a certain feeling. It might be my grandmother's voice I hear it in, or perhaps it's my fathers, or maybe it's my own. 

Well, shit...

I have been eating cookies for breakfast while avoiding the news or reading any articles. I have been checking on friends and family and gratefully focused on union work. I have been going for walks, bereft and questioning but not surprised. 

But, let's go back in time to before the shit hit the fan - I was jet lagged and hopeful and I had one more adventure in the cards before I could rest. On Monday, I caught the train through to Glasgow to see Interpol for the 8th time. 

Paul Banks of Interpol

Daniel Kessler of Interpol

I was really worn out from travelling and a recent migraine but I knew Interpol would give me more energy than getting myself over to see them would ever take. I was right. The train was smooth and easy, the venue was close to the station, and I left early enough to stop by a cafe for a light dinner before chatting to the folks working the door at the venue. I was one of ten or so early birds or super fans. They let us in the venue at 6 to wait for the stage doors to open at 7. Water was purchased, toilets were used, and all the women at the front of the line chatted with each other and laughed. We were instant friends with one shared objective, to be right in front of Paul and Daniel of Interpol. We were from countries all around the world and we spanned generations. Some of these women had just seen each other at the previous gigs in Wolverhampton and Manchester. The woman from Leeds next to me had seen them 31 times. The artist I met waiting at the door made sure I had a great spot next to her at the barricade and we traded Instagram handles and talked about witches and art. We were an instant sisterhood -  with our shared and knowing smiles, talks of ageing, the joys of gigging alone, art, small towns, cats, travel, politics, and of course Interpol. 

I was uplifted by these kindred spirits before the band even took the stage.

The opening band Dust from Australia played a fine noisy set and seemed extremely appreciative of the Glasgow audience which made me wonder how they had been received by Wolverhampton and Manchester. 

Interpol took the stage at 9:15 playing their second album Antics in its entirety, and then a set of 9 songs spanning their catalog, capping off the night with a perfect one song encore by playing PDA from Turn on the Bright Lights. The light show was intense and atmospheric and both Paul and Daniel were in fine form and seemed delighted to be there. Sadly Sam was missing as he continues to recover from spinal surgery and health issues. It was another great Interpol gig.

I hugged my new barricade mate goodbye and was out the door to catch the 11:15 train back to Edinburgh. Once returned to the city and on the bus in the wilds of Leith, another Interpol fan recognised me as they were exiting the bus, "Weren't you just at Interpol and in the front?" Aye, I was. Smiles were shared, take cares uttered and again I was embraced into the fold of humanity. The night ended as it began.

I was energised and happy to be alive. 

As I mentioned the last time I wrote about Interpol here, all you have to do is use the search feature in the top left of this blog to see how I feel about the band and what they mean to me, my life, and work. That's the power of art and music - it is truly life giving and inspiring, momentum building and community forging, identity shaping, alchemic bliss. 

The edge of a guitar note as it rings out, the turn of phrase, the gasp and crack of the voice, the bass as it moves through you and drums as they ground and transcend. There is nothing much better than that. And every time I see Interpol their music returns to me shiny and new to be discovered all over again as if for the first time.

Tears drown in the wake of delight
There's nothing like this built today
You'll never see a finer ship in your life
We sail today...

That was Monday night, then the US Election on Tuesday came and went, and like a needle being dropped on a record, Wednesday was a day of mourning and the rest of the week was a blurred hellscape. And here we are.

And I am still listening to Interpol as I walk briskly through the leaves. I still "understand the assignment" and I still stand by art, music, and community. 

Our joy is our power.

You make my heart sing : Look what we did!

Thanks to eight lovely art patrons and many shares across social media, in less than one week, we were able to raise £495 to help Bikes for Refugees Scotland. This donation will put nine bikes on the road and give refugees a warm welcome and free transportation. Together we made a difference! Thank you very much, you really do make my heart sing with your generosity. I made the donation earlier this week. I am honoured to be able to use my work in this way and grateful for my patron's support. Thank you!



I received this record of our donation yesterday.

In other news, inspired and feeling supported, I worked on six small works on deep canvas this week. I would say these are still in progress but there was something I liked enough of about them to document them at this stage.

They are 20x20x4cm/8x8x1.5” and have a springy vibe but to be honest the colours may be a bit jacked up in these phone snaps. Stay tuned...

Oh and in other news, read this book by Viv Albertine and perhaps listen to this podcast, what she says about women in the arts (all sorts) is spot on in my opinion and I am grateful that she gives this voice. 

I apologise for being a bit absent on the blogging front, some astute readers may notice that I have gone back and filled in all the gaps this year. 2019 is now up to date and I feel a sense of relief. I love this old blog of mine and I aim to do better by it some longer think pieces coming soon. 

Rise up, wake up, make a difference, use what you have. Keep fighting, we need you!

With sincere gratitude and love, 

Megan

Rejection: Surrender into this Ocean

Oh the joys of being an artist, and the spectacular ups and downs that come with it! Just this week, I received news that a couple of pieces of my work had been rejected. It was quite a blow and a major disappointment. I can't get into all the details but I can say that it would have been a pretty big deal if my work had been accepted.

It is still a big win for me personally that my work was even considered and made it as far as it did in the process. Anyway, it wasn't chosen in the end and now I have to sit with that fact. I decided to give myself half a day to be really upset. I am not usually this pragmatic, but it seemed like a good way to handle it at the time, and I think it worked out well. I am no stranger to rejection, as in this business, it is simply a part of the experience of being a working artist. I usually try to focus on the positives and move on.

In this instance, I had been waiting to find out if my work was accepted for 6 months and I was given every indication that my work was "in" right until the very end. So, when I got the news that the work didn't make the final cut; I was shocked, sad, and numb. Quickly I decided on the half day plan of unabashed sadness, but not much more than that. I listened to dreamy nostalgic music, I cried and I ate a pint of soy ice cream. I emailed everyone close to me that knew about this potential opportunity and told them the news. I started to feel a little better and I then started to see all sorts of positives from participating in the experience. I could feel the weight of the past 6 months lifting off my shoulders. I am not a patient person, so the waiting was very nerve wracking. Now, the gig was up and I decided I was ready to move on.

As artists, we all know that rejection of our work is an occupational hazard but how you deal with it really makes a difference. I wondered how I would react if this was the news all the while I was waiting. I was pleasantly surprised, I did not let it derail me. I gave the news its due and then moved on. I got back in the studio right away, armed with a new play list on my iPod to build me up. Blaring songs of power and a little defiance, and they sounded so good. I had the most fun just rockin' out singing loud and painting.

There are so many reasons why our work is rejected, and there is no reason in wondering why or trying to conform to something you are not. Notice that through this whole post, I used the term my work, your work or our work is rejected... I am adamant about not taking it personally. I am not being rejected, perhaps some of my ideas or color combinations, designs or the lines I made are. I know I am a part of every painting, in fact a part of my best self is in every painting, but the experience I have while making these paintings is golden and is all for me. I keep that within no matter what happens with the work.

How do you deal with it when your work is rejected? Do you give yourself time to feel it and then move on? Or do you sweep it under the rug? Do you stuff it down deep inside and carry it around like a dark cloud, letting it interfere with your work? Let me know your thoughts on the subject in the comment section.

Know that you are not alone, and that rejection can be a valuable part of the process if viewed in the right light. It can give you the resolve to fight even harder for your work and just like the old song on my play list says,"you gotta Rise Above!"

See " Spaces between Insight"
by Megan Chapman
at the DDP gallery
located at 7 East Mountain St. Fayetteville.
Open: W-F 12-7 and Sat. 10-5 and by appointment
The DDP gallery exclusively represents my work for all of Northwest Arkansas