I'm thinking that my creative break is getting dull. I sense that it's time to return to a theme that has always been deeply meaningful for me. My art that focuses on the sea has always been important, and while my motivation got me started, there are more truths to explore. I feel that my journey into using the ocean and shoreline as inspiration for my art has either just begun or is coming full circle back to another beginning.
So how do I restart that exploration?
At the start of what would become a series, it was a moment at my design table—some fabric turned upside down, its reverse suggesting a seascape. I had been working in watercolors and had some papers that I'd painted, and I realized it was time to move away from art quilts into other adventures. I wasn't sure where that might take me, but collage slowly evolved into work on panels. Stitch was added, paper was torn and I liked the strong simplicity of the pieces, and fortunately sales were good.
This success felt like permission to dive deeper. The ocean had caught me, and I found myself pulled toward abstraction in ways I hadn't anticipated. Horizontal lines emerged, along with more subdued palette and textures through mark-making. It challenged me like a jigsaw puzzle being put together—there was always this sense of a work that needed to come into being, waiting for me to discover rather than forced. I was loving the process as it's became a forward and backward dance, each piece informing the next, I think that's often how a sereis evolves...
But now I'm at a standstill. There are so many questions and ideas swirling around that I want to explore, and I'm feeling some overwhelm.
First, I have that visual in my head and I want to try a variation on my techniques. How do I get the idea inside translated into the work? There's always this gap between vision and execution that feels both exciting and frustrating.
Second, I want to work larger—maybe even much larger. I've done that in my art quilts, so I know I can do it, but larger in other mediums feels scary. The logistics alone seem daunting, but there's something about my ideas that demands a bigger canvas.
Third, I want to try different mediums—more paper, more stitch, collage, perhaps embroidery or old table linens. I want to do it all. Everything, Everywhere All at Once! The possibilities feel endless!
And so, in writing this all down and thinking it through a bit more, the answers become slightly clearer and also rather surprising. My thoughts say: go back to the beginning: do some sketches, create color studies, consider different ways of telling the same story, do some research, look at locations, take photos. And most importantly, ask the why. Why does this ocean and sea series keep pulling me back? Why now and why that? I want to look for connections and themes and follow those directions.
Maybe the answer lies in understanding that the ocean itself is never the same twice—it's constantly changing, evolving and responding. Maybe my art practice needs to mirror that fluidity rather than seeking a destination. Each return and each new work offers discoveries, ways of seeing rhythms.
I am not a patient person. I want to make art, make art and make it fast—and I am certain these are each mutually exclusive. Wouldn't you agree? But maybe that's the lesson the ocean keeps trying to teach me: things come in waves, with periods of building energy and moments of reflection.
So I'm choosing to trust the process (thanks Rick Rubin) to honour both the break that recharged me and a calling back to my focus. The ocean is patient—
The two pieces on the left were made with Derwent Graphitint Blocks, I bought them in Florence last year...simply because I like the tin they were in, why not? And the watercolour, I made yesterday at the rocky spot near my studio. I am in awe of people who commit to a daily art practise, I keep trying and accept that I'm not one of them!
I loved reading this post from you, Susan. It’s a place we’ve all been multiple times, and it felt very familiar to hear words such as “why that and why now?”, “connections”, “ideas swirling”, “standstill”, “I want to make art and make it fast”, “trust the process”. Your work does already dive deep, and I think will continue to do so as you slide around to this new beginning with an old friend….the ocean. I loved your thinking that it comes in waves and then recedes, just like our studio practices. I will look forward to your work that is feeling a new birth here….
Best to you.