Hello all,
In the spirit of spring, I’m reviving my newsletter! Not just that, but after some thought and the suggestion of a good friend (shoutout, Deb!) I’ve started a Substack as well. For those who haven’t explored the platform yet, its a subscription-based writing platform. My newsletter will always be free! For now, all my Substack shares will be- as I find my rhythm here, I may add in a paid tier later. We’ll see! I’m sensing that this newsletter, in it’s new life, may vary slightly each month.
What you can expect as the norm:
Updates about my art and offerings when I’ve got them
Musings on existence, nature, local and world events, the creative process or whatever happens to be captivating my attention at the moment
What’s been teaching me, inspiring me, or bringing me joy- podcasts, music, books, essays, photos, meals, etc.
I’ve come up against some internal resistance, starting this up again. One thing that arose was feeling like I’d already tried a newsletter before and “failed”, since I abandoned mine last year. After sitting with that one awhile, it seemed too silly to let it be the block that deterred me from doing what I felt like doing. Because isn’t that basically life: a series of beginnings, middles and ends (often out of order); seeing what sticks and what doesn’t; some successes, some failures; always getting back up and trying again? If you need a nudge to get back on some proverbial horse, I hope this can be that for you.
Another concern was the question of whether my mailing list still wanted to receive these notes, after all this time. Easy answer on that one, some will- if that’s you, hi! I’m happy you’re still here! And some might not. If that’s you, that’s cool. I know there’s gotta be an “Unsubscribe” button somewhere on here 😉
What really brought me over the hump was this:
I’ve learned that expression is a non-negotiable for me, I must express. This, I think, is true for all of us in some capacity. Some dance in the mirror, some on stages. Some make up entire worlds to fill fantasy novels or incite lively debates around the dinner table. Others strike up long conversations with strangers at airport bars, keep a private journal, or leave short-lived messages in beach sand. SO many ways to express.
We take the world in through our senses, we break the vast influx of data down as our brain categorizes experiences, our nervous system relates and our emotional body responds. The really big stuff settles in us to be revisited, for years or perhaps a lifetime. The extraneous departs and dissolves into who-knows-what. We digest. We become shaped by experience; we shape experience. The things that happen in our lives take on entirely new qualities unique to the context they’ve entered, and we take on new qualities too. From this place, we express.
When I think of this process, I understand why my need to express the way I do feels so vital. I get why my interior (and eventually exterior) becomes a dizzying and chaotic place if I don’t give my thoughts, feelings and creative impulses a place outside of me to land. The times I’ve avoided this drive in me, I reflect and see a part of me was in hiding- I was not my full self, and that pained me. Just like in the body, when we can’t digest, when there is chronic stagnation: we become sick.
I don’t share all of my art or all of my writing, but I do share a lot. That seems to be a part of my expression, too, it’s a way I relate. As someone who’s been shy and withdrawn for certain bouts of life, times where I struggled to share much of myself at all, it feels good now to have these avenues where I can be honest and free about who I am, what I feel, what I dream, and what I wonder about. It’s through sharing these parts of myself that I find healing through creativity.
This also helps me comprehend why a culture of placing judgment or metrics of worth on creative expression, which we often repeat in our relationship to our own creative work, is so damaging. I believe creativity is life-force moving through us. I certainly feel most alive, most in tune, when I am creating or resonating with another’s creation. To stamp out this spark, bog it down with over-emphasis on how it will be received, or force it to file down it’s rough, wild edges to become more palatable (or appease a social media algorithm) obstructs flow, squeezes life out the creation and hinders the full expression of an artist, or human.
I don’t really know what we’re doing here. I don’t know for sure what I am doing here. One thing I do know is that as long as I’m alive, I’m meant to live. So, it follows that I must do what brings me to life, and so must you!
Hence the newsletter’s name, “Letting Life In”.
There’s the heart of why I’m back, writing to you, and writing in general. Drawing and painting are two forms of expression I truly feel are essential to my being. Knowing this, I have worked to create a consistent art practice over the last 6 or so years. Writing has always been there alongside these forms. Our dance feels different, but equally important to me. I want to show up for the writer in me that wishes to express. This is me, digging out a channel again for that expression to flow through.
My website is up to date and you can check out some recent work in the gallery. The very latest, seen in the photo below, is one I completed during a wonderful course with SF-based artist Lindsay Stripling, which had us slowing down and digging deep into our creative source, process and style. As I painted it, I rediscovered a moving poem by Tom Hirons called “Party for the Broken”. I’ve added it to read here, too- I think they pair well together.
Currently, you can purchase my art prints on Etsy and at this lovely herb shop on Mill. Ave in Tempe, AZ. You can book tarot readings with me through my site. I am working on the guidebook for my tarot deck, The Otherlings Tarot, the illustration is complete! You can always see what I’m up to on instagram, here and here.
I really appreciate your presence. If you haven’t yet subscribed and you’d like to be informed as I publish new posts here, I invite you to!
With the yellow of sweet acacia’s flower,
Jess