The Beauty of Solitude
And What It Means for Your Practice
Well! It seems I’ve essentially taken the summer off from my blog! This was unintentional. I’ve had the itch to write and sit down and record my thoughts, but most of those have been “scratched” onto the pages of my private journal. Yes, I actually have both a blog and a hand-written journal. Some might think this redundant, but not all of my thoughts ought to be aired publicly and when a writing therapy is what the doctor ordered I must indulge.
It’s been a nice summer, though rainy! The grass and the garden are thriving, and we’ve been tackling little projects around the house and on the property that surrounds our seasonal cottage in Waldoboro. Our home keeps feeling more like “us”, and we are excited to see things come together. This simpatico feeling has been transferring over to our respective careers, and we are seeing small wins, which feels validating. I have a few irons in the fire, and I may choose to divulge on that at a later date. For now, I feel like discussing solitude in our art practice, and how important it is to grant yourself that space.
I had a lovely weekend, (already two weekends ago now?!) where I was able to devote time to myself for an entire 48 hours. Morgan and I had been discussing this getaway and how we all needed it- He wanted to have his own special time with the kids, Ona needed to be independent from me and try to sleep through the night without waking up to breastfeed, and I needed to sleep through the night and focus on art uninterrupted. We all thrived.
On Saturday around noon I arrived at our cottage armed with a Prius-load of plants… so, ya know, a few shrubs and a half dozen or so small plants, and I got to planting. By late afternoon I’d planted everything and felt pleasantly exhausted. That evening as the storm clouds rolled in I started painting in my sketchbooks and ate a modest supper. After a great night sleep I started the day with coffee and painting, skipping breakfast all-together. It was nice to not have to be responsible for hungry tummies other than my own! That morning the fog sat heavy on the water, and before the downpours began I had already gotten a swim in. The rest of the day was art intensive, with breaks only to use the restroom and sit back to critique the work.
I did not mean to be this intense, but I suppose it was what I was craving. The hours slipped away unnoticed, and the rain poured down in the background. The tide went in and out, and the birds fished with hardly a glance from me. I realized by late afternoon I was suddenly tapped, and with no pun intended, found myself at the local tap house for a beverage and a break. I was back at the cottage having taken an hour or so, and started right back into the work until bedtime.
The following day was spent finishing up and applying final touches. With the sun emerging I spent more time soaking up the warmth and swimming in the bay. I left that afternoon feeling recharged and peaceful. For once, there wasn’t that nagging feeling to create that I’ve trained myself to ignore while I attend to other necessary tasks. The nag was sleeping while I drove home with satisfied sketchbooks resting in my backpack. If only I could have more days like this! Someday I dream that those days will come frequently where I have the time and the space to get lost in the work. But for now, I’m finding it where I can and making peace with the nag in my head.
Solitude fosters the thoughtful space surrounding our creativity, and is the fertile ground for growth in our art practice. We need the quiet, uninterrupted time to workshop creative ideas and apply them. As with anything that takes focus, such as writing a paper, preparing a presentation, reading a book, what have you… art requires a high amount of concentration. But it also requires a connection to the heart. As in most forms of art, there is a desire to address the inner self. The colors and emotions that well within you take form in the visual, transferred to the page, the canvas, the sculpture.
Where possible, take the space that you need to create the work. This is important work, and requires a thoughtful building process to come to a phase of completion. Each step requires careful application and consideration. One brushstroke informs the next, and each mark brings you closer to understanding the work and understanding yourself and what your artistry can become. By all means take the space, and allow yourself and your art to bloom into a phase of completeness.
The artist is comfortable being alone, because that solitude allows her to dig down deep. You have the green light to revel in the practice, to coax what may from the page. In this modern world where the moment you pick up your phone there are an infinite number of things trying to call your attention, make sure you remember to be unreachable when you can. Your inner world is whispering to you with a message much more interesting.
