Settling into newness

Letting Winter hold my grief

Image Description: An illustration of an abstract character laying down in a field of flowers, who all have various facial features. “Embrace your season!” is hand written on the illustration.

I have a bunch of writings and things swirling in my heart, waiting to spill simultaneously—little snippets of things that aren’t clear enough to create something cohesive. I patiently wait for clearer ideas while feeling time slip away. The slowness of winter has been something I have always wrestled with. The sharp cold pierces my physical pain, leaving my body in a slowdown. Atlanta gets hints of Spring, which I try to bask in with dear loved ones before abruptly being reminded by the weather that it’s still winter.

This winter has been holding my grief extra tight. As I see the hypernormalization of fascism settle into the U.S., I feel more pulled to stay true to my beliefs. Part of that means setting down specific dreams I previously had for the sake of long-term sustainability. While I will continue making art in various forms, whether that be illustrations, murals, or other things beyond my current imagination, I’ve been processing my decision to take an indefinite break from participating in gallery shows. With the numerous illnesses popping up, I remain affirmed by my choice, but that affirmation doesn’t go without grief.

It feels hard to lay down specific ways of life that you have been actively a part of for so long and conditioned into. Last year felt like a pivotal redefining of what success is to me. Staying true to ourselves is hard; I had been waffling back and forth, weighing various risks. Something I have returned to is the actual feeling in my body. My body informs so much of what feels true to me.

I was telling someone the other day that attending art shows as an artist had often felt like this thing where I was constantly being asked by peers, “what are you doing?” vs. if I’m in community events, that consider various health precautions, the question asked by peers often is “what are we doing?”

Image description: An illustration of a tree with a face, watching two butterflies with a similar face of the tree, flying out of the tree into the world. “I try to stay rooted in my dreams in spite of the future’s uncertainty.” is handwritten on the illustration.

In the settling and processing after my decision I try to remain comitted to creating spaces that are promoting collective care. I continue to see more events pop up in my city that are deeply COVID-concious and show up to those events when I can. I maintain a monthly “Community Art Making” event with my partner where masks are required and everyone is making art together. It brings me hope that there are people who want to be in space together considering these things.

Ever since I was a little kid, art was my way to connect with others. It was my escape and my balm in deeply traumatic times. Sometimes as adults, I think it’s hard to reconnect with the “why” of what we do, especially if it involves our childhood selves. Art will always be the connector to the collective for me, and I want to stay rooted in that with anything I choose to do.

As the winter season begins to close, I slowly gain more momentum for the uncertainty of the future. I try to recommit to the mission of my art: to be a connector, even if that means no longer having certain means of connecting with others.

Image description: A photo of a fire set by my partner as the sun goes down.