I had the surprising opportunity of being interviewed recently by an extraordinary creative and entrepeneur, Vanessa Lowry, for one of her two internet radio shows. In her Empower Radio show Art as Worship, Vanessa focuses on how artists approach their practice, and how they use their practice as a way to connect with and express their... [wait for it...wait for it......] -- spirituality. Whoah! I said it...the "s" word...! In the world of fine art and craft, we're implicitly taught to keep that word under wraps. Funny, isn't it? In such a supposedly anarchical, anything-goes field, certain subjects really are, in fact, taboo.
But before you assume that this is the part where I cram my beliefs down your throat, let me be clear: I have always been private about my spirituality in the context of my work, and when Vanessa first asked me to do the interview, something in me squirmed. Was I prepared to link my creative work to the word "worship" in a public forum? Did contextualizing my creative work in the light of spirituality feel relevant to my "brand"? While I wasn't absolutely certain of how to answer these questions, a sense of trust (in Vanessa, in the timing of the opportunity) and curiosity (about the whole interview experience) pulled me forward.
Those thirty minutes of recorded conversation absolutely flew by. Vanessa asked such rich questions -- questions that never felt invasive or like they imposed any particular spiritual framework on me or my art. And she asked them with such warmth and genuine interest, that I felt really comfortable to just...be honest. We both said so much -- none of our Q's and A's were scripted -- that by the time our recording session was over, I wondered what all I had just committed to digital "tape", and wondered how I'd come across when the interview aired several weeks later.
What surprised me most, beyond the wierdness of just hearing what I sound like to the world (isn't it odd that we don't really know what we sound like, even though we constantly hear ourselves talk...?!!), was the way I described making art about life's most difficult questions and experiences (loss, loneliness, heartbreak) as a way of "giving those experiences a hug." I had no recollection of having said that, until I listened to the interview on air. I actually teared up at the tenderness of that idea, as though someone else had said it and it was striking me for the first time. Which reminded me that sometimes it takes a conversation - particularly with a wise asker of rich questions, and an attentive listener, both of which Vanessa is in spades - to really understand what you think and how you operate. And, when that conversation is being recorded and will be shared publicly, well, the ante is considerably upped to be honest and to really mean what you say.
I found the pressure of needing to make every word and moment count in our 30-minute conversation, inspired me to be more forthright. Talking about my spirituality on air felt risky, and there was no time for artful elusiveness or clouding my meaning in vagueness to protect myself from criticism. How refreshing. It felt like taking off one of those heavy vests (I just learned they call them "lead aprons" - how fitting!) they give you when you go in for X-rays. In my case, I had donned the "lead apron" during my academic training as an artist, where we learn to present our work professionally and are taught, implicitly mostly, to steer clear of anything too personal unless you can present it in a strong, somewhat objective way, while avoiding lapsing into cliches. Critiques - particularly in grad school, where tension runs high and interpersonal dynamics are pressure-cooker-volatile - can become forums for judgement, condescension, even ridicule. You learn -- particularly if the subject matter of your work is personal -- not to expose too much of your underbelly, unless you can encode it in symbolic language and generalized theoretical terms. Which is good practice, in many respects, but which can also distance you from the bare bones and beating heart that hold your work aloft and make it tick.
I am enjoying being on the other side of my academic training in art. It feels like being in the wilderness. While I'm dreadfully behind on exhibiting and staying in the stream of contemporary ceramics, I am also exploring a newfound freedom from which to make work, new ways and venues for talking about my work and creative process, and a new pace for gestating and creating. After 6 artistically-dormant months (owing to an overabundance of teaching obligations, to make ends meet, and some personal transitions), things are just getting cranking again in my new home-studio. A year ago, I would have chastised myself for being so "behind", so "slow to produce". I still stress out about all the moving parts I'm supposed to be keeping ("bee-keeping"...? ;) in motion in this Rube-Goldberg-machine that is my professional career as an artist and art educator. But, it's as though I threw out all the watches and clocks in my house, and am learning to gauge time by an internal set of cogs, arms, and levers. Who knows how it will all pan out, but, at this moment, I feel poised at the entry-way to a new orientation towards life -- one in which I place my trust in a more sacred notion of timing, growth, and success, and stress less about how the world defines these things. As long as I can still eat, sleep under a roof, gas up my red Toyota Carolla, be somewhat fulfilled by the things I do for money, keep the debtors at bay, and, above all, find time to draw, sculpt, and write, I guess I'm good for now.
(p.s.: if you didn't catch the sneakily-hidden link in the text above, here's the link to my Art as Worship interview with Vanessa Lowry: Click Here )