As an independent creative, I spend the bulk of my time alone, which means I’m typically in one of my studios in the basement of our house. I have two spaces that have been purpose-built and tweaked over the past few years to fit the different aspects of my creative practice. The analog studio is where I do all of my painting and collage work and the digital studio is where I do everything else that doesn’t involve paint, which means research, writing, design, podcasting, and recently a bit of sound design and music. The studios share a common wall that has a double door so I can move quickly from one to the other depending on what I’m working on in the moment. While there are still a few more tweaks to make, I love these spaces, especially since my previous space (if you can even call it that) was a 4-foot section of counter in the laundry room. That said, it’s still a basement and all of the things that can work in its favor can also work against it, depending on the mental space I’m in. If I’m particularly inspired, being apart from the other goings on in the house is a welcome detachment that can really allow me to focus. But if I’m in the weeds, those feelings of detachment can easily translate into feelings of loneliness and isolation, both of which I tend to struggle with anyway.
Sometimes, feeling myself start to spiral has nothing to do with the spaces themselves. More than a few times, I’ve been working away in the studios and whatever I’m working on just isn’t going anywhere. It could be a painting, it could be a written piece, or it could be a design project that just isn’t telling me where it wants to go–or if it is, I’m just not seeing it. Regardless of the project, when I get stuck in my head like that and it’s not enough to just take a break or grab my MacBook and work upstairs for a while, one of the things I love to do is to go for walks in the forest behind our house, which we really started to take advantage of during the pandemic. We even started doing livestream “walk and talks” on Instagram, which we still do most mornings. We call it “the forest” but it’s actually an enormous county park with baseball diamonds, indoor and outdoor tennis courts, an ice rink, a lacrosse pavilion, and even horse stables. It also has miles of trails, both paved and unpaved, that wind through old-growth trees that are home to a variety of wildlife and dozens of species of birds, including woodpeckers, owls, and quite a few others that I never saw in person until I moved to the East Coast. Once you’re out there, surrounded by the smells and the sounds of the woods, you’d never know that you’re only a mile away from a Metro station, a mall, and a bunch of shops and restaurants.
As much as I love it, there are times when a walk in the forest isn’t quite right and I want (or maybe even need) to be around other people for a while, and when I do, there are few things better than getting on the Metro and going into DC. Though I grew up in Southern California, I have really come to love DC and after grabbing a slice at Wiseguy Pizza, one of my favorite places to go is The National Gallery, which I’ve written about before. It was one of places I went to when I first visited in 2014 and every time I go there, I leave feeling energized and inspired. To be fair, though the National Gallery is my favorite, there are a ton of great museums in DC, most of which are free, which as my friend Michelle pointed out fundamentally changes the experience of going to them. Some museums are pricey—I think the Met is New York is about $30. In DC, rather than feeling like you have to see everything to get your money’s worth, you can visit anytime you want and stay for as little or as long as you like, which allows you to develop a different relationship to the art. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone down for a specific show, or to hear a lecture, or just to spend a few minutes in the “Rothko Room” in the East Building tower. It’s always an experience that changes my state, to borrow a term from Tony Robbins. Beyond seeing the art, I just love watching people—seeing what they’re drawn to and catching little bits of conversations as I pass by. On several occasions, I’ve even struck up conversations with people—both guests and employees—asking them what they see or why they are drawn to a particular piece or artist. I’ve actually thought about that idea as the basis for a podcast—recording a series of short conversations with strangers I encounter in museums and galleries and asking them what type of art appeals to them and why.
I’m grateful to have found a few things that help me get out of my head when I’m feeling spun up. Sometimes they allow me to get back to work, while other times they just allow me to realize that not going back to work is okay too. One of the challenges is to be more consistent in recognizing when I’m starting to get spun up or can simply benefit from a recharge—rather than waiting until I’m already spinning with anxiety and frustration. Maintaining our mental health can take practice and patience, but when you find something that works, it can feel like a weight has been lifted, even if it’s only for a moment, but sometimes that’s just enough breathing room to regroup, reset, and reengage.
Thanks so much for reading.
QUESTIONS
What are some things that you do when you’re feeling stuck?
one of my favorite writers is Julian Barnes; his collection of essays about art (Keeping An Eye Open) is, apart from a wonderful piece of writing and an homage to art as friend and master, a testimony to what recharging one's batteries by spending time in museums or art galleries. I find nothing more soothing and cathartic than standing in front of a work of art and ruminate on its history, while learning things about myself and how to push myself forward to think different, to resonate with the world with new energy.
I really enjoy listening to your posts with voiceover. It’s a great combo of meaning and voice acting. Have you voiced any audio book, Jefferey?