The Never-ending Process of Progress or Another New Beginning

Hello and welcome!  For those of you who don't know me, I'm Jessi.  I'm a multidisciplinary artist and pretty much everything I do revolves around connection and isolation, the masks we wear, and our desire and fear of being seen.  

Like most artists, I have cobbled together a living through various means at various times.  Due to a generous gift from my family, I have some time to focus solely on my art.  I'm "taking the donuts" (if you don't know what I mean go get yourself a copy of "The Art of Asking" by Amanda Palmer ASAP- you'll be glad you did) .   I'm using this time to make new work and get a few projects I've been dreaming about for years off the ground (go check out the Recycled Dreams section of the website, it's the first one!).   I'm also using it to write this blog.  I've been writing Morning Pages for over six years now (if you don't know what those are - check out "The Artists Way" ) but I have a bone deep terror of writing for public consumption.  I'm trying to get over that.  I'm looking for strategies of getting out of my own way and holding myself accountable - accountable for following my own dreams despite my fears.  I've been realizing I'm afraid of a lot of things.  Afraid of failure.  Afraid of success.  Afraid of what other people will think of me.  Afraid of what I think of me.  I have a really vicious inner critic.  I think most of us do.  However, I've also realized that, internet trolls aside, most folks will give you a lot more leeway than you give yourself. That's what I'm banking on anyway.   So, this will be my daily blog about this ever evolving art/life process.

Speaking of process, I want to do my best to document process as much as product.  I'm a process junkie.  I love seeing process.  Seeing/experiencing completed artwork (whether it's visual art, theater, music - whatever) is fantastic but part of the joy, for me, is trying to figure out how the artist/s got there.  I want to know how.  I want to see the technique.  I want to see the "mistakes."  I want to see the brains, the mess, the "ah-ha!" moments, the hair-tearing, the page flips and the belly-flops.  The things that changed, that didn't make it in, the possibilities for next time. I want to see how people got there.  How-to videos and books are wonderful things in my universe.  Classes with teachers that demonstrate are the best.  Open studios where artists are actually practicing in front of you make my heart sing.  The rehearsal process for a I wish more people could get in on those. The work, the practice, the process - I sometimes think they are more important than the product.  It's where you learn so many things - persistence, what does and does not work for you, where you realize "mistakes" can be genius, where failure to do what you intended can lead to glory.  It's where you are allowed to fail spectacularly.  We're so afraid of failure in our society.  So image conscious, so afraid to have people see us messy and disheveled and in pieces.  But we are all that way at some point and it's the mess we usually can relate to.   We rarely find anything worth having without fucking up a few times along the way.  So this blog - and the ones  for the projects - are to document process, attempts, the struggle to get things out and make things work.  I expect a lot won't work.  There will be fragments and pieces and days of blah.  But hopefully there will also be magic and successes and ways through.  I'm going to try to get out of my own way, past the fear of judgement (mine and yours) and put it all out there anyway.  If we can't support failure, we can't support success either because you don't have one without the other. If we want an open, creative, accepting society - and I do - then we have to let ourselves be seen, and trust each other with the mess and the success.  So this is me, trusting you and I hope you come to trust me too and share your stories along the way.  Thanks for reading and we'll talk tomorrow. 

I was walking down Madison Ave with my friend Elizabeth talking about needing to finish this website and start my blog when we saw this.  Sometimes the universe backs you up in the best ways.  Who would have thought the Barney's Christmas windows would be a motivating force? Thanks Baz Luhrmann!