In my first couple of years of practicing art, I was hesitant to join any sort of community. I didn’t know how to open my studio to groups of strangers, and I didn’t know how to measure the value of this type of investment. I created quietly while letting solitude hinder my ability to overcome the challenges and pain points I experienced.

A lot of artists are multi-talented. They have an interest in several different mediums and subjects which ultimately makes them scared to commit to one singular style. This makes sense for creative people. It’s easy to want to avoid boredom and monotony for the fear of being too constrained and restricted. Finding your one thing can often feel like a trap when you consider the lifelong endeavor of a creative practice.

When emerging artists begin their career, they’re often looking to other people. After all, looking to other people can teach you a lot about the industry - what appears to be working and what doesn’t. However, looking to other people in a visual field, can influence the work you’re creating and trick you to believe you have to strike the visual trends to find the confirming response you’re looking for. This can cause you to lose what comes naturally to you.

Let’s take a moment to recap your journey - up to this point, you’ve practiced your art, you’ve refined your technical skills, and even started sharing about your artwork. Now, you are at a point where you’re starting to become curious about your artwork. You look around and see other artists making work in their own style - they have an identity and you can always spot their work from afar. You start to think about your own work and begin to feel the panic set in when you realize everything’s already been done before.

If you want to grow your skills and advance your artwork, at some point experimentation has to be a part of your creative practice. However, experimenting can sometimes be avoidance and procrastination. Artists can let their fear of consistency dominate their practice. They jump from idea to idea which ultimately holds them back from finding depth and content in their work.

There are a few big questions that can arise in creative practice. Usually, they are questions containing the words should, could, and enough. And when these types of hesitations arise with my artist mentees, I encourage them to seek the real reason for the question. Are they passing judgment on themselves or are they genuinely asking a productive question?

I think every artist - whether traditionally trained or self-taught - finds themselves in a place where they want to go deeper with the artwork they are creating. That is, they want to move beyond learning their foundational skills or using art as a meditation and therapy and enter a phase where they are communicating their own ideas. This skill isn’t always an easy one to bridge. Organizing lines, marks, shapes, gestures, and colors to bring to life something that primarily lives in a dream-like state is a challenge for every artist. It’s truly the crux of creativity - to make something from nothing.

The phrase “body of work” is used frequently but rarely defined in the art community. And I am often asked: Is a body of work singular, or do I create many bodies of work? Is a body of work the same thing as a collection? How long should I work on a body of work?