The last month at Elsewhere has been a whirlwind! As I posted previously (click here), I started off experimenting with water based mediums to open up my style to new influences.
Leaving Time for Process | Elsewhere Artist Residency - Christine Lee Smith
Living in Paonia, Colorado — a small and quaint artist town — has changed my sense of time. I feel a little like I’ve just entered a time warp, going from 60mph to 5mph, and the world is still slowing down as I integrate into my new rhythm.
Switching from shooting digitally (with virtually instant results), to shooting mostly film, it emphasizes the process of creating rather than the product or outcome. And in painting, as well — I need time to mix colors, let the paint dry between layers, and clean my brushes (if I want them to last).
It’s all got me noticing and wondering how much, and how often, I squeeze life into the margins trying to get a better or faster outcome or result. Having an opportunity to experience the difference between leaving the margins for what they’re there for, versus filling every possible second for efficiency, out of necessity (because there aren’t a lot of alternatives here) is showing me how ultimately ineffective trying to “do it all” really is. It drains me, leaving me but by bit less ready for the next day ahead — rather than resting in the natural pauses of my day, as I’m learning to do here.
I’m human, and I need time to breathe, to think, to process. I need time to feel, to consider, to choose wisely. And when I rob myself of that time so I can “get things done” I’m actually being less productive. Huh. It’s an odd reversal to think that being more productive actually means resting.
If you want to follow along Christine’s journey while at Elsewhere, visit her online at: christineleesmith.com, or view her iPhone gallery at christineleesmith.vsco.com.
The Dance of the Woodstove - Ky Burt
My time at Elsewhere went by so fast, and yet the daily mornings by the woodstove, the afternoon walks through downtown Paonia, and the evenings spent sipping tea, writing, and sharing stories with the other residents, seemed like an endless lifetime of comfortable creativity.
And yes the Woodstove…what a metaphor for my process of writing music. At times, I felt that my energy was like a warm simmer, where if I moved away from the heat, I would feel cold, but close enough, things were just right. Other times I was burning up, popping out idea after idea, excited and motivated. And other times I was dead cold, looking for fuel for the fire, reaching, flickering the lighter, hoping something would get started.
I set out with the goal to experiment with the process of songwriting at Elsewhere. As a burgeoning songwriter and nationally touring musician, I’ve been writing songs for years, always with the feeling of other responsibilities to attend to. For this one month retreat in the Gingerbread House, I was able to solely focus on my craft, a privilege and an honor that I was so grateful to enjoy and explore.
The best part was, one of my songs turned out to be about the Woodstove that I so frequently interacted with. I’ve included the words to that song below. And I look forward to releasing the video that I made with local filmmaker Teya Cranson on my website www.kyburt.com. Thanks to Elsewhere, the residents, and the community of Paonia for a productive month of honoring the muse.
The Wood Stove Song
When the sun is swallowed by the night
And the moon is shining brightly
And the embers are burning alive
While the stars seek to gather
And the crickets cease their chatter
Before the morning after
There’ll be sparks in the wood stove tonight
The windows set crooked in the stone
And the firelight dancing on the ceiling
And the mist is rising off the bones
Where the old trees save each other
From the winds of their mother
Before the morning after
There’ll be sparks in the wood stove tonight
Leaping silhouette, leaping over the fire
Peering from the darkness, warm to the touch I desire
And its you and me babe, flickers of our dreams
Staring in the image of what we might
And its you and me babe, flickers of our dreams,
Staring in the image of what might be
When the moon is shadowed by the light
And the sun is shining brightly
And the birds are chirping up high
While the meadow sways its flowers
And the raincloud pours in showers
Before the golden hour
There’ll be dust in the wood stove,
There’ll be dust in the wood stove.
There’ll be dust in the wood stove.
Falling In to a Communal Culture of Creating - Katherine Saviskas
At Elsewhere, I am moving in a space with other artists, existing outside the 9 to 5, and I get to watch other artists’ daily practices. It is inspiring and comforting to cohabitate with people tuned in to their gifts and themselves.
Look! There are these beings who move in ways I want to move! Look! There are these individuals who prioritize in ways similar to how I prioritize!
This February, I was so very held and nourished by Elsewhere. And Paonia. The kind of connectivity, individual caring, and networks of support shared with me here are unique and powerful. I directly experienced solidarity through work peptalks with my fellow Elsewherians, working side-by-side with other artists, being linked up to supportive individuals in town, folks being hospitable and inviting me to things and making me roasted chicken, Karen being Karen, folks attending our events, people being curious and asking questions. So many direct forms of solidarity.
I also experienced solidarity through shared understandings, most of which went unsaid. I’d like to take a moment to list some. This kind of subtle solidarity was also demonstrated in our communal culture of creating at Elsewhere, and these forms of communal agreement can be quite rare:
- the belief/knowledge that one month is a short amount of time
- the belief/knowledge that visiting a place for a project for 1 or 2 months is a reasonable thing to do (i.e. there is no rush, no need to live a project in chunks of 1-2 weeks to “get back” to my “real life”)
- the idea that you can live the life you want to live by waking up and making things with your hands, like a basket that’s becoming a nest
- the potentiality that the life I want to live can be segmented and timed and marked by how long it takes to make a felted cocoon, or write the chorus of a song, or edit together a 4 minute video
- the idea that a perfectly reasonable thing to do with your day is go to strangers’ homes, talk with them and learn about their lives, and make things based on what you learn
- the potentiality that life can be lived without a permanent apartment, for months on end, and instead following the craft that comes out of you
- the belief/knowledge that following the craft that comes out of you is exactly what you should be doing, and this can mean a happy life of building your schedule several months ahead of time, or only one month ahead of time, in order to seize surprise opportunities to offer your craft
- a commitment to: let’s just live near each other, make our own projects, think each other’s arts are fascinating, and make each other tea and live communally, with days that overlap and parallel closely
- the idea that it is possible to live somewhere where most folks go to the same activities, and that in some ways you can live into a community without extraordinary effort spent in creating one
- the belief/knowledge that it is possible to live in a community where folks hangout for lots of fun reasons, not just for consuming food and drink (although those are delicious and wonderful too)
Sewing Seeds-Amber Imrie-Situnayake
Yesterday, Adriana and I installed 25 in the upstairs studio. It’s been nearly two months of home visits, wet felting and personalizing these little hovels and finally, it’s all come together in a whimsical installation. I’m only going to give you some teaser shots in hopes that if you are local you’ll come out to see this interactive installation in person. If you can’t make it, have no fear we will post another blog about how the opening went next week so stay tuned and subscribe.
Come out and see, feel, smell, and hear the art of the evening at Elsewhere Studios this Thursday Feb. 26th from 6-8pm.
Click here to read more about the show, and all the projects and artists involved.
January Opening at Elsewhere
Who is Aralia Rose, and What is She Doing at Elsewhere?
I am embarking upon a new art series, "The Elementals". Elementals are understood in multiple traditions as energetic beings who work with Earth, Air, Fire, and Water in our ecosystems. The call to make a series of art devoted to these beings came from my wanderings and workings in the forests, fields, and mountains, in last year's warmer seasons. The subject matter seemed particularly in line with my own 'mission', the statement of which I have been honing: 'The art of Aralia Rose reflects Woman as Goddess; Man as God; Humanity as Divine. Her earthy, rich images help anchor an emerging movement towards embodied awakening and creation of a conscious spiritual relationship between humans and nature. Inclusion of ceremony in her artistic process infuses images with an understanding of oneness with the Divine. Aralia’s archetypal works evoke spiritual connection with elemental, seasonal cycles of nature, the sacredness of the earth, and our own physical being. Her images create energetic portals which communicate deep spiritual truths, resonating with many paths."
Over several years I've developed a specific art process. I think of it as "ceremonial portraits". The story of my process with Austin, the model for the first elemental, is illustrative.
Austin wanted to work with Earth or Water. As a first step I brainstormed concepts. I came up with lots of ideas on the thinking/mind level, but many of them felt forced.
One day in the midst of this process, walking in a spruce forest at about 10,000 feet near Taos Ski Valley, I veered off trail to explore. As I climbed a hill in silence, a young bull elk emerged above me. Each aware of the other, we stopped, and stood watching one other for some time.
I sat on a large, mossy rock and gazed at the elk. He sat at the top of the hill and returned my gaze. It was a magical sight; the late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the tree tops in golden columns, full of dust motes. The elk emerged from the rays like an otherworldly vision.
I soon connected the experience to the Celtic lord of the hunt, Cernunnos, or "The Horned God." Cernunnos is also known as "The Green Man" in many parts of the UK. I contacted Austin with the idea. He responded enthusiastically, saying that this resonated with his own spiritual path.
Austin and I went to the forest together, where we created ceremonial space before doing a photo shoot. I asked Austin to listen to his intuition as we proceeded. He stepped into the archetype and let the energies emerge; I held the space for this to happen.
Arriving at Elsewhere Studios in Paonia, Colorado, for a five month artist's residency several weeks ago, my main concern was with the style I had been working in- tight, photo realistic, and illustrative. Recent paintings are beautiful and magical, but the process had become painstaking and unwieldy. My first intention was to open up my working style to let in more flow, movement, and elasticity.
The group of artists here immediately began collaborating. We started with an art critique, and decided to do an "art experimentation day". I am now playing with watercolor and gouache techniques beyond those I have already been using. I've ordered some other materials such as chalk and ink to add into the mix. I'm feeling into a style that contrasts looser techniques and illustrative, realistic work.
I'm also throwing pottery in the clay studio here, to help me move into a more meditative space. When I throw, I focus on finding the center of the piece and staying there; closing my eyes and being present with the moving clay. This is a way to infuse my art with fresh new energy by 'switching gears'.
The art that has started to emerge feels very alive and resonant, and I'm excited to see where the process leads!
One week.
One week until it's time to go back to Los Angeles, a city I've always considered home and still do. But then, what IS home? Is it where you were born? Where you've lived the majority of your current years of existence? A comfortable place? Somewhere you have not only a past, but a future? Give me an inch (of Colorado) and I'm going to want a foot (of the rest of the Unites States.) This residency has definitely been exactly what I was hoping for and more. The Town of Paonia is great, the residents here are wonderful and my fellow artists are so much fun. It's always warming to meet a crowd you get along with.
I know I've been happy hiding away at Elsewhere. My fellow artists and I have had mini dance parties, streamed 90's music, discussed art and life and even logged into our Myspace accounts just to revisit a part of our childhood. Honestly can't believe I remembered the log in information.
We've had one critique which was insightful and had quite an impact on the project I'm working on now. I've never put together an installation before. It's both intimidating and exciting. Inspiring each other and learning from one another has been fantastic here. Just the type of environment everyone should find within their own disciplines. Elsewhere has definitely provided a nurturing creative experience. I've been able to meet half of the goals I jotted down before making my way down here. That including designing textiles. They'll be ready on the 27th and I'm stoked!
We've explored a bit together, too. Revolution Brewery is quaint and has great beer. The Gunnison river gave us a nice path to walk down. No complaints here---and I mean to the point where I kind of don't miss LA. Okay, I don't miss LA at all.
Alas, I must go back. But I'm definitely looking forward to applying to residencies in the future. My hopes and expectations have definitely risen though...
I posted on Facebook, "One week left in Colorado. Pretty sure I don't want to leave." To which my boss responded: 'I was thinking of you this morning and wondered how you feel about leaving. It's great that you have had such a good time. Someone once said to me, "it's best to leave when you are having a good time, because in your mind it will always be a happy event, and you might even want to go back sometime." '
And that, I cannot argue with.