How to have an Artistic Breakthrough. A Milkwood Scrapbook
One month ago, I was headed to Milkwood Farm in the Catskills, NY to start a week long residency for Children’s Book authors and illustrators.
This was my first residency and I had no plan. I packed watercolors, my iPad (on which I had been illustrating my children’s books thus far), paper, and met my ride in NYC to head upstate. I was in slight shock when I unpacked and was left to my own schedule. What would I do? Illustrate my stories? Sleep in? Drink my coffee hot? I gave myself no goals, no restrictions on my time. My only rule was to listen to my body. To really ask myself, “what do I feel like doing right now?” and follow my gut.
And that’s what I did.
And that’s how I had a full blown artistic breakthrough.
My favorite view -down towards the old “Farmhouse”
Let me explain. On the first morning, I walked out to my studio which was located in the Calf Barn. In that moment, felt like I wanted to slow down and pick up some flowers / weeds / leaves. So I did.
At my desk, I looked out my window and started to paint - some blind contours, some paintings of the greens I saw in the mountain trees, some sketches of weeds growing waist height. Then after a bit, I turned to the pieces of nature I had collected that morning.
I painted what I had brought in. Then I cut it all up. This went on and then I went into town to get groceries with some friends, cooked dinner for our group, ate, hung out, then found myself walking back in the dark to the studio for the evening. I opened my iPad to a story I’d written and notionally illustrated called One Big Yard. I didn’t think, I just kept playing.
That night, I met my main character.
I kept going. The next morning I flipped to the first spread in my book, and painted it. Cut pieces out. Arranged and arranged and arranged again. It was so freeing. I was painting at this tiny scale, slow, but fast because if it wasn’t working for me, I would just grab a new piece of paper and paint again and cut out a new shape. I am use to the challenge of painting on big walls and this was a scale change for sure. But the physicality of cutting each piece out by hand was welcomed. My hands were so tired at the end of the day. Tired, but ready for more. I went to bed so excited to wake up and make.
As I started to build out my pages, I would hang them up next to my desk. How lucky was I to be surrounded by a hand-selected group of world class author and illustrators (full of ideas! published! incredible! brilliant!) who gave thoughtful feedback, held critiques, and edited my story. They are also the reason I walked out of Milkwood with a new picture book. I will not forget how each person reacted to my new work hanging boldly on my cork board. My friend of two days, Heather said, “You must do more of this. I demand it.”
And I trusted her. I trusted all of the artists and writers who were there working along side me, as if we had known each other for years. Their words of encouragement, mind-blowing work, and willingness to lend supplies (thank you Alison!) allowed me to dive in and not worry. I just focused on making things that I liked. One small cutout piece at a time.
That and the absolute gift of uninterrupted hours. My roommate Alison actually wrote about this in her newsletter - how she experienced me at Milkwood. For lack of a better phrase, I was working like I had stolen time. Up early, in the studio late - just so excited to hit my desk every day. I could have done it for weeks.
When I wasn’t in the studio or sleeping, there were adventures with new friends. “Jumping” into a suspect “swimming hole” on the side of the road, visiting the library from My Side of the Mountain, picking herbs in the garden, looking for our friends’ books in The Lost Bookshop and group blind contours over wine.
I will be forever grateful for Milkwood because it came at a time when I truly needed it for my art practice, my mind, and my body. What did I need? I couldn’t have told you before that week, but I can see it clearly now. The rest and play transformed my art practice and how I see myself as an artist. I felt capable and good. I felt like I belonged alongside these other talents. I felt free.
I wrote this in my journal at Milkwood, “ I feel myself, again. I can see it - my books, my future holds books - how could it not? My mind feels still and safe.”
My book, One Big Yard is now packaged and out with prospective agents. Fingers crossed that you’ll see it in your favorite bookstore before too long!
Me! captured by my friend Tulin as we headed back to NYC.
My bumper sticker / collage addition to the famous “Horse Books” - each person fills out a page and the only rule is it has to have a horse on it, in some way.