In the studio - Scale and pauses

I haven’t been in the studio for weeks. The motivation just… fell away. That awful “stuck” feeling crept in (I know I’m not alone) something like winter appearing, slowing things down, dulling the buzz I had in the summer. It’s like my creative energy cycles with the seasons. In summer, I’m all rush, all flow, bordering on manic.  But now, it’s like I want to hibernate. Ideas still swirl, but the urge to actually do, to create, to make is dulled. Sometimes, I think it’s just a part of how I work, a neurodivergent ebb and flow of excitement that crashes into burnout. Big inspiration, then sudden disinterest.
It's all fine until it starts feeling like an obligation.

Today, I pushed myself to sit in the studio. Just 15 minutes. It took hours to even get myself through the door. I didn’t touch any clay or pick up tools. Just sat with some of my pieces. Staring at them got me thinking about scale. Why am I so drawn to making things smaller? With my love and interest in dirt I know I like to focus on the overlooked, the discarded, questioning value.  Maybe it’s a quiet rebellion against the pull to create big, wow factor work? Maybe I'm afraid to make larger work? I do know though, I enjoy holding work, cradling work almost in my hands.

I’ve had this exhibition idea in my head: Elevation. It’s a proposal I spent days drafting—only to let it sit forgotten, (pah, I could write an encyclopedic sized book of those ideas) and like so many ideas that start off intensely it just faded. Elevation is/was about shifting focus from the large and spectacular to the small, the humble, the imperfect. In a world where big, glossy and new is everything, I guess I’m drawn to the opposite. I want to create a space that celebrates the quiet. A place for subtlety, peaceful energy, ritual and reverence. I want to pause and reconsider what we value—and why. 

Winter feels like the right time for this kind of thinking. Our culture’s need for grandeur and more stuff just feels exhausting sometimes, as Xmas approaches it's even more apparent. Elevation is my way of slowing down and, hopefully, inviting others to do the same. A way to counter the “more, more, more” energy with a little pause and stillness.

​So, I got back in the studio, albeit for just under 15 minutes.  Not making anything yet. Just sitting with the quiet energy of some of what I’ve created both at Tremenheere and in my studio this summer.  I'm trying to remind myself and others, it's okay if motivation ebbs and flows. I’ll sit with it for a while longer.

I had to force myself to write this, but I’m glad I did. Mostly, I do this for me. I recently had a conversation about my mixed feelings toward social media—it’s useful, even inspiring at times, but the sense of obligation to post (from nearly every arts advisory/consultant etc out there)  is what really puts me off. They suggested what if “sharing” could be just for myself? Like keeping a journal of what I make, what I enjoy, and why it matters to me—a way to honour the work privately, without the pressure of an audience and remind myself why I make. It sounded simple and there’s something valuable in putting these reflections somewhere, even if no one else reads them. So, this is a kind of compromise. Not pouring everything onto social media but sharing it here on the blog. It’s here for anyone who feels like reading and honestly, for me, to look back on too.

​Would love to hear anyone else's thoughts on scale, pauses and general creative ebbs and flows.