I’d been a professional artist for 20 years doing the gallery thing. Shows, representation, the whole circuit, which has been a lot of fun. Somewhere in there I got really stuck. The work became joyless.
I started making art years ago as a way to express myself while dealing with numerous undiagnosed illnesses. I was sick all the time and art was my salvation, like it is for so many others who have their own struggles. I am so thankful for art.
One of the reasons I got stuck was that for the majority of my career I created digital art with a Wacom Cintiq and Photoshop because of life-threatening allergies to traditional mediums. I am allergic to most things, including about 95% of foods. However, a few years ago I got a diagnosis and medications that helped me start working with gentler mediums like watercolor. I still wear a mask and gloves, but it was like starting over. For years I was just trying to get back to the technical skills I had before. And in that process, I became very, very bored. It became so much about progress and goals that it was killing my work. I was so bored!
I started looking around my life, my maximalist home, the crazy colors I love to dress in, the art I love to collect as a gallerist, and realized that my art had never really reflected me or the world around me. It was a lot more about my pain, which is 100% understandable because some of the best art comes from the deepest places inside of us. But with so much growth, and being able to paint again, which was a genuine miracle, I think I just felt really silenced.
I started looking at my home, my clothing, even my culture growing up with Polish and German grandparents. I had always been surrounded by something I collected and loved more than almost anything: folk art.
As I chased and tried new things, the rejection was high. I lost galleries, collectors, and more than half my following, and I almost gave up.
I went back and forth probably 20 more times between what I knew and people knew me for, having fun and playing, and what my clients and galleries wanted.
And then I broke.
I am getting older and I just broke.
I started to not care anymore. I accepted the rejection because the joy in what I was doing meant more to me than any like on Instagram, any comment on Facebook, any validation from any gallery and I found home.
Funny thing is, slowly it started to catch on. I found a whole new group of people who enjoyed what I was doing. I kept going anyway. And slowly the right people started showing up. Not more people necessarily, but people who actually got it.
Make the thing that feels like yours. Lose the followers who were never really there for you anyway. The work that comes from a real place of authenticity will find its people.
That’s it. I just wanted to put that out there because it felt profound to me and I hope perhaps others can feel the same about their own art if they feel stuck.