The Stories We Tell

I was asked to present to a regional group of artists about my work curating and exhibiting visual art – current and past. I generally approach these requests with a professional visual presentation fused with mostly images and only a few key words. I strive to find the essence of what I want to convey. To do this well, I take into account their request/ask and the audience. I also needed to lean in with my years of expertise, so they could feel empowered to secure a solo art exhibition/show. I didn’t realize at the time, it would become so much more than a professional presentation for me. It opened a new way of seeing how to help myself and artists find authenticity.

Before I continue, I need to take a moment looking back to my early years growing up. My father was a visual artist with exhibitions and shows – successful in his own right. However, just before I became a teenager, he made a pivotal decision to move away from being an artist to support our family doing “something” else. Although I am proud of his other accomplishments, I am not certain he ever obtained the financial security he sought or maybe even happiness.

It wasn’t until his later and final five years of his life, as a psychology professor, I believe he found a “different” purpose. His subsequent death represented the first major course correction in my life. Perhaps it was the result of preparing his eulogy or the reality of my current position, but I now recognize that a mantra developed when I spoke of him. “Although my father was many things, I always connect to my early memories of him in his art studio, bent over his desk, listening to music, creating beautiful charcoal images. I loved that he was an artist. ” I would spend the next eight years seeking a more creative life myself – carrying with me that simple but profound sentiment in my heart. 

My Master’s degree is not in the arts, nor would I have previously considered myself an artist. I have had a wealth of experience from small business, retail, community planning, teaching, grant writing, program development, and the list goes on. Before my father passed, I never actively pursued creating art or a career in the arts, which on reflection seems interesting given how I loved watching him create. 

In 2015, I began exploring the arts as a member of a nonprofit arts board and researching how creative placemaking and public art could bridge my education in community development and planning. Later, I became a fulltime arts administrator, and then a part-time curator, archivist and design student. I decided that even if I didn’t understand how exactly these pieces fit together, I was aware of a story within and beyond myself. I knew that if I took work that would either allow me time to create or support other visual artists – so they could thrive that I would be moving my “career” in the right direction. For myself, I actively sought a painting mentor, took community classes, joined creative groups and challenged myself to sketch, draw, paint, and dabble with any medium I felt pulled to.

This year, I started to explore that sweet sentiment about my father “the artist” and began asking myself, “what if I was an artist all along?” Not because I can create and make art – I believe that is obtainable to anyone, but what if I was a visual artist that took on someone else’s story. Subconsciously, what if the fear of being a starving artist seemed plausible and too raw for me to even consider.  

Returning to my recent presentation – it became interwoven with my father’s story, my story and their story. Unlocking new thoughts about my creative life and what does that mean specific to the arts. Since then, I have connected to a variety of soulful conversations with other artists that I will be writing about in the future. Through these heartfelt discussions about creating and sharing art, I realized that my career means nothing if it isn’t rooted in my authentic, personal story.  I created a wall around art that needed to be examined, tested, validated and repurposed. This self awareness and understanding is ultimately a declaration of love. If I deny this part of myself because of a limiting belief that I (or someone else) gave me, I cannot be fully seen. The stories I will be sharing online each gave me an impression or glimpse of how I can lean into the world of art with passion first – the career will follow.

Today, I have my own version of a small art studio consisting of shelves teeming with art books, walls sun-kissed by natural light, and filled with the echoes of soothing music while I create. With a cup of coffee in hand, I often pause and smile – thinking of my father and how we are still connected through our stories; the ones we shared and the ones we inspire(d) along the way.