process

At the beginning of 2020 I started painting again. I used to make visual art a lot as a kid, until some criticism from my high school art teacher shut me down in the 11th grade. I never thought it was too big of a deal - I figured I’d just move on and focus on music instead. But thinking about it now, I realize how much of myself I actually gave up in those moments. 

I was crushed as she leaned over my shoulder and filtered my best attempts at expression through the cloud of her own resistant beliefs. I was told my end result wasn’t going to be good enough if I kept doing things my own way, and I believed it. Showing up and engaging in the process was suddenly no longer enough. My less-than-fully-formed frontal cortex agreed that she was probably right and it became too painful to show up again, so I just stopped. I forgot about the nights I spent in my childhood bedroom smearing paint over canvases and listening to music in my underwear, just for fun.

So a decade and a lot of healing later, I felt the urge to make visual art again. I realized that there was still a need inside of me to find new paths of expression. I have learned enough about myself at this point to know that I am not myself unless I am creating in multiple disciplines.

Abstraction has always come the most naturally. As a kid I loved exploring freely without forcing any particular representation, so I decided to start there again. Reclaiming this practice from my inner teenager wasn’t easy. I was confronted with obstacles and frustration while experimenting. Spending money on supplies, trying to discover what I wanted to accomplish and what tools I needed to get there. And where was I going? I still don’t know half the time.

The beauty of abstract art to me is that it creates a space where you can begin to identify patterns within yourself. The fear of making a mistake exposes the cracks your underlying frame. You have to learn to repair the parts of yourself that are broken, by slowly and steadily returning to the work until the work reflects back to you something that feels genuine.

Now almost two years in with twenty-something pieces completed, I feel like I am still at the very beginning of something. But I have learned so much about myself. I have been forced to let go of outcomes and to find satisfaction in the process. Showing up and approaching the materials without unnecessary expectation. Allowing things to happen on the canvas with openness, and letting go when they happen in a way that I don’t like. Starting over even if it means “wasting” money or time or energy. 

The truth is it hasn’t been a waste at all. Whether I’m dripping paint onto the panel or violently peeling it off, I have experienced all of those moments and I’m better for it. The longer I go the more I become present to the process and realize that this is simply my life. Either way I need to show up and live each day, so why not do it with some color, and texture? Why not do it with some play?

Letting go of any expectation of outcome is the hardest part. For some reason when we become adults and we form opinions, and self images, we lose the ability to play. Our environment and the people in it project their own failures onto us and limit our beliefs. The true outcome to aim for, is finding that childlike state. To let go of these narratives that you didn’t even know you had. That’s what painting does for me.

I’ve been reluctant to share any of this until now, because a couple weeks into staring this whole endeavor I realized I needed to do this for myself - not for anyone else. I knew that if I started showing the world right away that it could mess with my head, make me feel inferior, or cause me to doubt myself. A lot of creatives I know seem to feel an unnecessary amount of pressure to share constantly about what they are making. Social media apps are slowly re-programming the open (and often impressionable) minds of artists to make them believe that they are not enough unless they have a perfect feed, documenting every single part of the process to show how perfect or artistic or inspiring they are in every moment.

The problem is, the process is a sacred thing. It’s also an ugly thing. It’s a painful thing, especially in the early stages of developing a new art form. It’s something that people who haven’t earned your trust won’t likely be ready to take in. The finished work may be for them - but the process is for you, the creator, and the people you trust enough to let in on it. The process involves confronting the parts of yourself that you don’t like. It involves doing “bad” work, and returning to it over and over again until it becomes decent work, and then doing the same until it becomes great work.

How are we supposed to grow as artists if we have a magnifying glass on us at all times? How are we supposed to feel safe during the miserable, uncomfortable parts, where we need to grow as people in order to create better work? It’s not realistic. The expectations that I see creatives putting on themselves to overshare, are the opposite of self-love and self discovery. Real life is lived in the process. Real life is being in the moment, with the paint, with the music, with the people. So I realized this, and I went into my garage for 17 months and spilled shit all over the floor like a crazy person, and guess what? It made me feel a lot of feelings. It made me confront things. It made me feel a lot worse about some things, and a lot better about others. But it made me feel, and now those feelings are framed into some work that maybe somebody else who feels similarly can relate to.

There is freedom in accepting that creativity is simply a necessary part of life regardless of if anyone knows about it or not. With that being said, recently I felt like I had reached a point where my stack of finished work was not doing any good sitting up against the studio walls for no one to see. And I realized another truth - that by not sharing it I wasn’t being vulnerable. This work that is a huge part of my life could maybe be part of other people’s experience, if just for a moment. I’m ready to expose myself to a new level of vulnerability.. as scary as it may feel.

If you’re reading this far into this I hope you continue to find your own languages of expression, and I hope you remember that it’s okay to be multi-lingual, even if you aren’t fluent yet. It’s okay to not be a master at all of the things you do, and it’s important to find new ways to create regardless of your mastery of other mediums. Remember why you ever did it in the first place. Truly we are all students, no matter how much knowledge we accumulate. It is a lifelong journey. These are a few the places I have stumbled into along the way:

View fullsize

“Dabble” - Mixed media on canvas - 12'“ x 12” - Sold

View fullsize

"Shmear” - Mixed media on wood panel - 24” x 24” - Sold

View fullsize

“Seedling” - Mixed media on wood panel - 24” x 24” - Available

View fullsize

“Splintering” - Mixed media wood panel - 24” x 24” - Available

View fullsize

“Reject” - Mixed media on wood panel - 24” x 24” - Sold

View fullsize

“K-Bear” - Mixed media on canvas - 24” x 24” - Available

“Fill” - Acrylic on canvas. - Sold

If you’re interested in a piece the ones remaining for sale are available here.

Prices include shipping.

photo dump: fall 2021

It’s hard to believe the year is about to come to a close. I always say that, cause it always feels this way. There’s something special about the way film scans age when I leave them tucked away in the dropbox folder. I shuffle back through every month or two, letting new impressions arise slowly. Often for moments that once felt insignificant or even embarrassing, an unexpected feeling of fondness comes.

I suppose I am learning something from this practice, of allowing the passage of time to reshape memories. Creating true space is a new practice, and it goes against my neurological instincts. Its one thing I can do now for my inner child, who had both too much space and not enough all at the same time. Part of me might always live in that paradox I guess. Awareness is everything, lol.

I am grateful for my cameras, the XA-2 and the FE that were so graciously passed down to me, and the company they’ve kept me through this insane couple of years. Here’s a few moments from the first half of the final quarter. I’ll be getting the rest back from the lab in a bit.

photo by will livingston

photo by will livingston

photo by will livingston

photo dump: another nashville summer

One hell raisin, shit kickin, boot stompin hell of a time.

a new place to share.

I walked outside a few mornings ago, and the air felt different in the backyard. The weather is starting to cool off here in Nashville, and it made me realize again how quickly the year has been passing, as we all continually adjust to a series of “new normals” in this first year of the decade. 

2021 has been an important time of growth for me, both personally and artistically. Time doesn’t feel as “real” as it used to, and I often have to remind myself of how far I’ve actually come. I started this year in a completely different living & working situation, and in a matter of months have moved into a new home / studio and set out on a completely new path. I was able to juggle all of that while working on multiple long form projects with clients, and continually refining some personal creative work. Many shifts in my personal life happened as well, and all of those things really feel like huge steps forward in the larger journey. I truly feel lucky to be working on some of the best work of my career this year and as eager as I am to share more of it, I think the slower pace of progress has been ultimately healthy.

I found myself feeling incredibly thankful for all of it on that cooler-than-usual morning. The newfound gratitude was followed by a string of thoughts about how to share more of my journey with those who might be interested in it, resulting in this first blog post today.

Since the beginning of the pandemic I’ve put a lot more focus on new creative outlets, and absorbing myself into new disciplines. In addition to songwriting and my work in music production, I’ve also been pursuing other art forms such as film photography and abstract painting. I have yet to share much of my work in those mediums as I feel I am still early in developing my skills, but indulging in them in secret has been powerfully therapeutic and has opened me up to experiences of creative freedom that I couldn’t have anticipated. The power of simply showing up consistently and doing has proven to be fruitful so far.

Throughout this process of implementing new creative & life habits, I decided to withdraw my attention from social media, in attempt to stay more present with all aspects of my life. I was finding it increasingly distracting and addictive.

After having some solid distance over the past few months, I now feel even more conflicted when I do log in to check my messages. The platforms seem even more cheapened as time goes on, littered with more advertising than ever, and some strange unconscious pressure that pushes all of us to overshare regurgitated, politicized perspectives.

The constant engagement with this unpredictable mechanization of human emotion feels not only unnecessary, but unhealthy to me. I’ve come to the personal conclusion that it’s not only ineffective for me creatively to get sucked into this vaccum, but it puts me at the risk of sabotaging my efforts to maintain focus on doing exceptional work.

There seems to not be much use for it, other than to occasionally connect with a person of interest, or reach an established audience with short bursts of content, new finished work, or an upcoming event. Every time I think about sharing deeper thoughts or even some of this new artistic output I’ve worked so hard to create, it just feels like the wrong place to do so.

Even though I felt significantly more peace by spending time away from the algorithm, I still found myself craving an outlet to share more about what’s going on. There are so many moments I’ve captured here in the studio that are sitting on my phone, or in a folder of film scans that no one has seen. There are many thoughts I have about the process of doing my work and living my experience, that maybe others could find valuable if I shared them in the form of writing.

I thought about other ways that I could continue to let people in on what’s happening, in a more measured way. It occurred to me that I wasn’t utilizing one of the biggest resources I have; this site. It took me way too long to realize that I could easily use my own website to share more about what’s going on than I currently do. And the best part is, I get to decide how much I want to say, when I want to say it, and exactly how I say it, instead of competing with some algorithm for likes and follows from accounts who may or may not actually be interested in connecting on a more thoughtful level.

So with that being said, here we are. I’m not sure what the future holds for this, but my intuition tells me that there are likely others out there who’s path may bear some parallel resonance to mine. My hope is that sharing in a more intentional way, may actually be helpful to not just myself, but others as well. I know that the subtle fear I have of committing to “blogging” and starting something new, is likely just a sign that I’m supposed to pursue this.

“Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”

― Steven Pressfield

With that said, I appreciate you reading this far. I’ll look forward to sharing more, and exploring the possibilities of what I might be able to do with this tiny corner of the web.

Peace and love

-ag