Hope and my fear of stopping
As Summer is upon us, I look forward to some much needed time off for July and August, and thought I’d take a moment to share some information about myself.
Layered, wearable artwork created in 2016 by Satellite Studio member Sam Shahsahabi and modelled by myself during Defsup’s Derelicte, wearable art show.
For the past ten years or so, I have been busy busy busy hustling as an artist and arts administrator - and taking on many volunteer roles along the way. I have worked with various organizations (CAHEP, Thunder Bay Art Gallery, Willow Springs Creative Centre) and have played a key role in launching volunteer run initiatives - Satellite Studio Artist Collective and Guild of Northwestern Ontario Metalsmiths, for instance.
Funny, even when I’ve taken on paid roles in the arts, many assume I’m volunteering! What’s with that?
I also have my own business Pike Lake Forge, which has basically been non-operative over the past three years as I busied myself working full time to establish Mindful Makers.
Orach, butterhead lettuce, onions and beets growing in my garden.
To be honest, it’s also remained a side hustle because I keep chasing paying jobs rather than taking the plunge into being a full time, self-determined artist.
So, as July approaches, here I am consumed by gardening (I’m growing the largest garden I have ever . . . perhaps another way to bury myself in tasks?) and dreaming of artistic projects and my future. Creating art for my garden, mostly, including a figurative found art sculpture - to scare away the deer!
And as the days melt away, and my fingers continue to dig into that dirt . . . I can’t help but fear that once I stop to take a “break,” I’ll stop. OR will continue to seek anything else but the pursuit of creating art.
But I’ll have TWO MONTHS, why won’t I make anything? Well, maybe because the blacksmithing studio is in shambles! I have a life partner, who also works a “real job”, and has been bitten by the blacksmithing bug. So this means he helps out with things like building a new forge and shop upkeep, when time “allows”.
But when you don’t practice an art form for so long . . . especially a craft-based practice . . . I’m feeling rather rusty.
Nevertheless, I will persevere. And if I spend half of the summer sleeping, and the other half gardening and re-orienting myself to my artistic practice, so be it. It’s been a long ten years of arts admin work. So, this July and August, wish me luck. I need to create. I need rest. Rest to keep going, to rejuvenate and fill my well.
Kristen Wall installing Mindful Makers Member’s Art Show. On now at Gallery 33, June-August 2021.
All too often I centre everyone else’s arts practices - because when you live in a northern community like Thunder Bay, and you see the gaps in what’s available and also what’s possible, you can’t help but want to make things happen! But there may be more to this “drive” than what meets the eye.
At the root of my fear of stopping, is a time when I was forced to.
I was in high school - grade eleven, I think? Maybe twelve. When I was diagnosed with lupus. After too much deliberation, I had just decided, “yes, I’m going to be an artist!” and attend University to get a fine art degree. Which meant I had to stay an extra year in high school to make up for all the art classes I didn’t take. When suddenly, I couldn’t cut with scissors.
It was a hard time - especially for my family who watched as I lay in bed (undiagnosed) and depressed. I stopped. It was painful to walk. My mom would have to come roll me over because everywhere hurt so bad, and I’d maybe venture downstairs once a day if I could come up with one good reason. When I went to school, I made up stories to peers who watched me walk like I was 80 years old - “oh, I worked out too hard!” lol as if I’ve ever “worked out”. . .
Kristen Krievin and I forging wrought iron into hammers. photo credit: Grant Stromgren
I was lucky. Not only because I had family who cared and a clingy boyfriend to push away - I also managed to squeeze in to see a specialist within one year after being told it was a two year waitlist. But most importantly, I’m grateful that at this young age, I learnt the value of hope. And how much I love working with my hands.
June 2019 - arriving in Yilistaro, Finland, I could feel how puffy my face was, and how I so desperately needed this time off to visit my land of origins.
I remember briefly feeling I needed to pursue rehabilitation therapy as a career or somehow work with people along similar journeys. Then I turned back to art + hope. And told myself that if I ever lose the ability to use my hands again, I would artistically direct projects! I began thinking bigger.
Most importantly, the experience encourages me daily to care for myself . . . I still sometimes don’t. . . But I remember more frequently to at least try to eat better (hence the garden - it’s my first time growing greens!), partake in moderate exercise that’s not too hard on my body, and to enjoy plenty of saunas. And although my body was only fighting against me for a few years as medication seemed to send it into remission, the experience lit a fire in me that burns so brightly, I sometimes forget to take breaks. ( . . . hello “fear of stopping”). And when I really desperately need breaks, I feel lupus lurking in the background, rearing it’s ugly head.
So here we are, about fifteen years later. I constantly worry the lupus will be triggered again. And sometimes feel it’s a shame I have my grandmothers genes. But more often, I’m grateful for the experience and let that sense of hope guide me in everything I do. Because if I don’t have hope, then what do I have?
As I step into some “time off”, I want to thank you for being a part of my journey and for sharing your strength and stories with me.
It’s my dream that mindful makers creates even the smallest green mountain for us to sit atop now and then, where we can collectively view the vast stars and feel a sense of hope, belonging, and togetherness. Who knows what our future holds? And how the simplest act of spending time together may hold us up, in just the right way, at just the right time.
Your pal,