Progress, Baby!
Reflecting on my first solo show, Whispers Among the Trees …
Dearest Doodle Soupsters,
I’m not sure exactly what I’m about to write, but I want to reflect on this experience of my first solo show and exhibition of my current body of work, Whispers Among the Trees …
I’m choosing to start here, in this space between knowing there’s something to say and finding the words …
To start somewhere. Anywhere.
Isn’t that how we do anything we want to do (slash also the stuff we don’t want to do)? Isn’t that how we do our chores? The laundry? Cleaning the bathroom?
Just start somewhere. Anywhere.
I think it’s through letting things unfold naturally that we can get at something true, something raw and profound. At the same time, letting things unfold naturally doesn’t mean sitting in the backseat and just hoping the car will move on its own, waiting for someone or something else to take me where I want to go.
There’s a duality here: accepting uncertainty, finding a middle ground between thinking I need to be completely in control of my “destiny,” that everything needs to fall on me, versus feeling powerless, that effort is pointless, wasted.
What am I trying to say?
I’m not alone — just through being myself and showing up, I make connections with people, I get help along the way. And this truth co-exists with the fact that I need to follow my curiosity and let myself make the art I want to make before anyone comes along to ask for it. I can do the things I want to do because I want to do them.
There’s boldness, a healthy amount of ego, in choosing to make space for what I want. And choosing to make space for what I want also doesn’t mean that I’m not part of a community — my choices impact others. It’s important to me that I can consider how I can contribute, whether that’s to people close to me, my students, or anyone out there who’s been waiting on real love and encouragement.
Choosing to make space for what I want is an acknowledgement of the fact that what I want isn’t bad, stupid, wrong, naive, unrealistic, monstrous, or ungrateful. It’s an acknowledgement that I can give myself the good that I also want for others.
I can give myself:
time
space
love
respect
care
encouragement
pep talks
hugs
I can listen to myself, and believe myself.
And this is what I want:
to love and be loved (genuine relationships built on mutual care, honesty, and respect)
space to explore my curiosities and desires (art-making, learning new things, experimenting with mediums, making a bajillion kinds of tea drinks and egg dishes)
space to rest and just be, to let my mind wander, to listen to rustling leaves and to watch the sunset
to be myself and continue to reflect, try things, to let myself find out who I am while continually returning to some quiet voice, some central piece that’s always there
to share my art confidently and unapologetically knowing that I’m super excited about what I make, that’s why I make it. And I’m not hurting anyone by wanting to share my work with others. This is natural. This is human. Art is a form of communication, and it’s meant to connect us more deeply to the world we live in, to each other, within ourselves too. In fact, whenever one of us shares what sparks our curiosity and makes us feel alive, we can all feel more encouraged, inspired, and emboldened to just start somewhere too.
to really settle into the fact that being myself, making art, and sharing it is nourishing for myself and it’s an act of generosity (aka just because I’ve been shamed for these wants doesn’t make them shameful)
to make the world better and not by rushing or trying to fix everything. I want to make the world better by treating people with kindness and respect, by supporting others whenever I can. And being kind isn’t the same thing as being nice. I don’t need to always be “nice.” I can be honest in a way that’s kind and respectful. I don’t have to bend over backwards for people that make me feel uncomfortable. Being kind to myself and acting from this place of self-respect frees up energy to be a more involved and supportive member of my community. I’m allowed to be just as human as everybody else. I don’t need to sacrifice my own needs to be a person who’s mindful and accepting of others’ needs.
And when I say the world, the world can also mean my little corner of the universe, dwarfed in scale in comparison to all there is, big on its own nonetheless. It can be so valuable to simply focus on what/who’s right here in front of me, to really pay attention and be here with that/them. This doesn’t negate all of the important issues in the world. It’s simply an acknowledgement of my own limitations and finding effective ways to contribute to a sense of shared humanity and community … it’s an acknowledgement of the fact that I’m one person, that I get overstimulated and I think and feel deeply. I’m allowed to let myself focus. I’m allowed to value the local. To tune out so I can tune in. To be right here, right now. To stay.
It’s funny — I haven’t even started talking about the solo show, have I?
Start somewhere, right? Here we go … I’ll start by sharing something I wrote on Instagram last week …
Doing this exhibit allowed me to begin articulating the multimedia aspects of this project. There’s a QR code for visitors to scan beside the tapestries installation, which pulls up the Prologue and Part I of the Whispers text. When you reach a section in this text with lyrics where the strange human sings to Existence, there’s also a button to press that says “listen to the strange human” and then you can hear a recording of the song. (These recordings overlap with my album A wildflower grows from the cracks in the sidewalk, which I released under my alter ego name Alice Celeste )
I was so nervous that somehow I wouldn’t be “allowed” to display these tapestries because it was something I wanted. Wanting something is vulnerable. Letting myself find out and acting on that desire is freeing.
I also displayed a cape I made to wear for my live performance last year of A wildflower grows from the cracks in sidewalk. The cape is an “artifact” of this past phase of the project and moment in time — as an art piece, it also echoes the rest of the exhibit in materials (colored pencil, ink, acrylic on muslin fabric sewn with thread) and in terms of Whispers’ visual motifs (portals, abstracted tree shapes, faces).
Lyrics from both the text and album are handwritten on the cape too. Beside the cape is a QR code which pulls up a page with the video of the live outdoor acoustic performance with me wearing the cape singing while playing guitar as well as photos of the performance and links to stream the album.
Even if no one were to use the QR codes (yet) in this initial iteration of the Whispers Among the Treesexhibition (I plan to do more!), this is me presenting things in the way I want to, letting myself take that next step even when it feels scary and vulnerable.
I think what we tend to find out is that whether it’s as an artist or anything a person really wants to do, no one is going to do it for us and people can only really help us if we communicate, if we ask, if we put ourselves out there even just a little bit.
In order for this exhibit to happen, I needed to have spent the three-plus years I did writing the story, making the artwork and music, starting the tapestries, etc. And in order for me to have done that, I had to spend all those years just experimenting and exploring like in my previous series (I wrote about the contrasts between my current work and previous In the Raw series in this January edition of CDS), which looked a bit different from what I do now buuuuuuut that’s where I found my relationships to color, how colors, marks, and textures embody emotions and reflect different meanings to me.
Even before my prior ten series mostly of abstract paintings, my attention to detail with graphite portrait drawings and scrupulously sketching trees outside while trying to absorb every little nuance I could, learning how much of drawing is about truly seeing what’s there as opposed to what you think is there … this is incredibly important to the art I make now.
Conversely, in my abstract paintings, the semi-abstract shapes of Whispers Among the Trees were forming, taking root, taking shape … all this as being able to notice and see things so deeply from my graphite studies started to merge with the abstract ideas and concepts I was trying to express with my art.
Sometimes you can’t see the whole picture in the moment and even the whole picture isn’t the whole picture. Building something over time is vulnerable, scary, wonderful, and thrilling. And it’s from the luxury of perspective that we can see the purpose of trying, of opening ourselves up to uncertainty, of being just an inch more honest with ourselves and each other … in the moment, it often just feels so well, bad. Arghhhhh feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable is so uncomfortable and vulnerable! And still, this is where the growth actually happens, in those in-between moments where everything feels so scary and confusing!
When I feel a sense of clarity (ohhhhhhh it makes sense now!) or pride in what I’ve accomplished (wow yay I did it!), I’m starting to realize how much of that is only possible because of all of the discomfort I let myself stay with and in …
I’m going to be honest with you …
I absolutely LOVE being an artist, writing, making music, teaching art and music, exploring the interdisciplinary connections in my work, and sharing all of that … AND just because I love it doesn’t mean it’s always easy. It feels so natural and right. And it’s also super hard a lot of the time!
Often, I think being truly honest with ourselves about what we want and what we don’t want leads to choices that are ultimately soooooo good and also can make us feel SO UNCOMFY in-between … until the proof comes, and it’s like oh yeah, I was right all along! woo hoo! all I needed to do was stick with it! And it’s like, yeah sure it’s much easier now, but before? woof.
In other words, saying “hey this is what I want and I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to do this but yeah, I’ll start somewhere and just try some things and learn from it” is an embrace of uncertainty. Yet, embracing uncertainty doesn’t preclude you from also hating it.
And not to get all wistful and sentimental (but hey why not? you know I love to get all wistful and sentimental), but isn’t that what’s so weird and special about being a human? We want things and then suffer for wanting but then we experience something we wanted and move all to all new wants?
And all this can co-exist with the fact that there’s a nuanced difference between honestly pursuing curiosity/what’s important to us/our sweetest dreams and desires versus chasing/rushing/not valuing what’s here right now/disregarding the wonderful stuff of being alive that’s so simple.
I can be so willing to say “yeah, I’m going to create these immersive exhibitions where it’s like stepping into a very old, mystical book but it’s also whimsical and represents a profound hope for how the world can be while acknowledging the way it often is” AND “yup, they’re going to be incredibly awesome, you’ll see!” AND “tbh all this makes me feel so vulnerable! ahhh! look away from me for a sec” AND “actually, none of this matters anywhere near as much looking into this person’s eyes and feeling the texture of this fuzzy leaf right here, or just letting myself be here for a hot sec” AND “uh huh, still going to keep working super hard at this anyway!”
I think sometimes there’s this idea out there that it’s somehow cool not to try hard OR that it’s better to do art just for yourself and not care at all how people engage with it OR you gotta hustle if you want anything to come your way, work, work, work, baby! OR hush hush wanting is suffering, don’t want, just be grateful.
I’m saying no. Seriously, NOPE to all that!
I’m saying babe, it doesn’t have to be one way or the other, my way or the highway, uh huh?
I’m saying babe, let yourself sob uncontrollably and then okay, let’s pick yourself off the floor and let yourself try again.
I’m saying babe, everything matters and nothing matters. Both are true. Let it break your brain a bit, that’s fine. And then, remember, existential questioning is useless if you’re too paralyzed by doubt to do anything, to choose anything. Let it go, gently.
I’m saying babe, you got this! You’ve got so much to offer. And you don’t need to offer a thing when you need space to huddle in a corner and cocoon for a bit. And babe, life is short and long at the same time. Take your time and also no need to hesitate. Go for it and let yourself find out!
Now, I still have so much more to say about this exhibit so we’ll resume this lil chat (slash me monologuing but hey, no apologies for that either! this is my generous offering, take it or leave it AND I appreciate you being here, listening, being present with my work whenever that’s possible/comfortable/helpful for you) another day, another time. I don’t have to say or do it all right here, right now. In fact, that’d be pretty impossible no matter how many times I’m convinced MUST. DO. EVERYTHING. IMM-EEE-DEE-ATELY (as you read, hear this part in your head with a robot voice, please).
And I also don’t have to hide myself, be all bashful and scared because it makes me feel vulnerable to stand up and just be here, myself, bold and honest, in my own skin, letting you see my soul, my mushy parts.
Letting myself see that there’s no shame here, that I am me simple and true, and I’m still in the process of becoming, a perpetual caterpillar, a perpetual pupa, a perpetual butterfly, always metamorphosing even when the transformations aren’t visible to the human eye (at first), like a sky putting on its twice-daily show as it rolls into dark and into light again,
Nicole Sylvia Javorsky
P.S. One awesome way to support my Whispers Among the Trees project and this newsletter is … drumroll please … to take home my artwork!
P.P.S. Confidently sharing my work like this, in my own language, with my own style of speaking, of writing … I couldn’t have done this ten years ago! Progress, baby!