The Last Few Miles

I went out to walk the land this morning and I could see my breath. The dew was heavy on my boots and as far as my eyes could see, lush greens have been replaced by warm golds, umbers, and ochres. Though the mornings are growing colder, as soon as the sun finds her place in the sky, the earth feels warm once again.

This time of year always feels like this strange liminal world where we hang in between summer and autumn. The equinox marked our transition this past Sunday. We’re in harvest. Grabbing the last of the tomatoes from the vine, checking the weather reports for possible frost.

For me, life has become increasingly synonymous with seasonal living every year. Summers are abundant and bustling with markets and art fairs until the end of September when things begin to wind down.

For the last two weeks, I’ve been working nonstop, preparing for my last two big events of the season. An exhibit coming to Enger Lofts in October (stay tuned for more info), and my last big hurrah of the season, The Lake Superior 20/20 Studio & Art Tour.

I feel a little like I’ve been running a marathon since May of this year. At the start, the adrenaline is rushing. I’ve been in my studio all winter, preparing for this, I arrive at my first art fairs of the season excited to share my work with the world. I’m moving, the pace is good. One, two, three, four shows and everything is going pretty smoothly.

I keep my momentum pretty well until about August. It’s like the point in the race where everything starts to hurt. I’m not moving with as much ease, my sprint feels more like a trudge, and all I want to do is slow down.

But I just have a few miles left and I want to finish strong. It’s just that, the last 3 miles are all uphill. It’s at this point that reality starts to kick in, I start feeling my own limitations and I notice myself evaluating every decision I make. As if my vision gets sharper and I start to assess what is vital and what is not.

It’s like a reality check. It can get so easy for me to become hyper-focused on the “production” aspect of this journey, especially during the season that’s centered around showing up with my art. A couple days ago, I was doing some framing in my studio, reaching the end of the 15 pieces I was putting together for this exhibit, and I found myself tired on a level that felt deeper than just physical.

It was like my energy was zapped. I collapsed on the couch and realized, I haven’t painted for more than an hour or so a week in months. I miss it. Hours and hours of studio time experimenting that turn into moments when I’m in flow and time doesn’t exist anymore. Sounds like heaven, right?

Here’s the thing, life can’t be all painting. Because I’d make no money if I neglected marketing and collaborating with stores and showing up for art fairs and markets. Life also cannot be all work and no play (I’ll let you finish the sentence ;). There has to be a balance. Summer doesn’t hold a lot of space for contemplative alone time. Fall and Winter tend to keep me indoors and sometimes a little stir crazy until Spring rolls around. We can sit and idealize a life where everything runs smoothly and our energy doesn’t run out and we can rest whenever we want but honestly, what fun would that be?

So here I am, closing in on my last market weekend of the year. Exhausted and proud, I can feel the relief starting to set in and I’m looking forward to another season to create, create, create again.