Day 01 : Studio Hours Experiment

Reveries

Jun 15

Lightly edited voicenote transcript:

Hi,

Today is day one of my self-led summer artist residency, which is completely made up by myself and, in some ways, feels like a joke. Why is that? I don't know. Maybe because there's some part of me that feels like someone else needs to make something official.

Anyway, noticing that this morning.

It's also day one of my kids' summer vacation break. Is it a vacation? I don't know. It's basically just a completely different, uprooted routine when there's no school. We don't go anywhere for the whole summer or anything like that, so I think that's why "summer vacation" doesn't necessarily ring quite true as a description.

But anyway, it's summer break for my kids, and it's Summer Portal Artist Residency Experiment for me.

I am once again reporting from my studio floor, fifteen minutes into my first studio hours, which is an experiment that I'm playing out over these first four weeks of the residency just to see how it feels. Do I like showing up at specific hours? Can I do it without having big expectations for what I do? Can I show up and not avoid showing up because of the big expectations I might have?

So far, I don't know, because it's only fifteen minutes in.

I will say that for the first ten minutes, I went around tidying things up and realized that was not on the agenda. Or I should say, that was not within the guidelines that I set for myself in this experiment.

So I realized, okay, maybe the best thing to do would be to start by laying down on the floor and grounding myself in my body. Touching into what is. What is happening right now.

I also checked my email just before starting this voice note. So basically, I'm breaking all the guidelines.

But I think that's maybe a huge part of the experiment for me. Can I return?

That's kind of a huge part of this whole experiment of doing this Summer Portal. I know that I will break the guidelines. Life is not linear. You can't predict what's going to happen, what you're going to need, or what life is going to bring your way.

We set up guidelines and ways of supporting ourselves, knowing that they are supposed to be in support. All the practices, habits, routines, and rituals should be, in my opinion, in service of supporting ourselves in whatever way that looks.

Even the fact that I set guidelines feels like a support to the part of me that then, quote unquote, broke the guidelines and checked my email and tidied my space when that wasn't really supposed to happen during my 10:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. studio hours on a Monday.

But simply because I wrote those guidelines for myself, I have this opportunity to bring awareness to, "Oh gosh, I did that." And I don't need to bring in the second arrow of, "And you failed, and it's terrible, and it's all over, and there's no point in continuing, and we're going to quit the entire experiment because you checked your email and tidied your space and you said you weren't going to do that."

That is a part of me that I know very well. She has very high expectations and wants me to absolutely do my best every time. She feels very scared that something bad will happen if I make mistakes, if I fail, if I don't show up for something I say I'm going to do.

And I think a big part of this is meeting her with a lot of gentleness.

"Oh, it's okay. We're practicing. This is new."

It's okay that you've reached for your phone and checked your email. In some ways, it's kind of nice because I had an email pop up from a client that needs help later this summer at exactly a time where I have a gap in my schedule. In some ways, that gave me a little bit of relief to lean more into this and share from this space.

So it really all feels like...

Again, now twenty minutes into my first studio hours and not even one day into the whole of the experiment, I already feel like this is just what I need. More than anything, it is bringing awareness.

And through awareness, there is the opportunity for intentionality. The opportunity to make choices with intention, whatever those choices may be, and however they may change over time, day by day, minute by minute, hour by hour.

And then there is also the opportunity and invitation to be a witness to myself. To show an abundance of compassion and love and understanding. Not understanding from a place of conquering. Not understanding in the sense that I figure myself out and can do everything perfectly and the same every time.

But understanding from the space of what children desire. Understanding in the sense of being seen. Being witnessed. Not even necessarily being understood, as if any of us can understand anyone else perfectly.

But understanding in the sense that, "Oh, you make sense to me."

I see you as the whole you. I see you in all that you are bringing to this moment. And I can see you with love. I can see all of you with love.

The parts that are avoiding the practice, or want to avoid the practice, or are begrudgingly in the studio space instead of at the kitchen table with my computer diving into client work. I can be with her with compassion.

I can be with the part of me that's saying, "Oh my gosh, I can't do anything artistic or creative. I can't do anything until everything is perfectly in its place and tidied up and my dad's duffel bag filled with clothes is out of the space."

My dad showed up unexpectedly on Thursday, which is a delight and also unexpected.

I can also be with the part of me that just feels so tired and like I don't have anything creative to give. I don't have a fucking ounce of anything to give.

The end of the school year for my kids is filled with lots of special experiences with their school community and events. One got out of school one day, and the other got out the second day, and all of last week was so different than our normal routine. I had much less time to myself, much less time for my work obligations, my client work, and the commitments I've made.

And then there are all the logistics of summer. Signing up for day camps so that I have childcare. My husband works full-time, and I work from home, so I am often the default caregiver to our kids. So there's figuring all of that out. There's figuring out the few weeks that there aren't summer camps available at my kids' school.

And we are so privileged. The fact that we can afford it, even if it is a stretch. That we can make it work. That we can find a way to have that childcare.

And that I can be laying on my studio floor right now on a Monday morning. Choosing to start my day this way. Choosing to focus my energy into the space that feels absolutely unfruitful.

I mean, there's no way my logical brain can connect laying here on the floor recording this voice note as being in any way productive for the financial well-being of my family or my business.

And yet.

This is the experiment: to show up to myself, to return with consistency, to be with everything, and to just see. To fuck around and find out.

To see what happens if I were to give myself these moments. To believe, even if only a tiny little seed inside of me believes, that maybe, just maybe, this is in some way rippling out. In some unknown and nonlinear way. A way where the web spirals so many times that I can't even see how it connects to the creative collaboration down the road that's going to be magic, or to one day opening my own shop.

There's a space for rent in Multnomah Village, and I've driven by it three times in the last few days. I look at it and it just feels...

It's on the corner. It's got all these big windows. I can imagine our little tea shop. I can imagine poetry readings there. I can imagine people sitting on the sidewalk at little tables outside. I can imagine it.

And I don't know how in the world I could ever get there.

You can't logic your way to how me laying on my studio floor right now, deciding to do a self-led artist residency for the summer of 2026, leads to anything. I can't know what it leads to.

So this experiment really is about coming back. Returning again and again. Bringing awareness to the present moment. And building and deepening a relationship with myself and my creative practice through consistency.

But not consistency toward an outcome.

Consistency toward building an inner foundation. An inner relationship.

So with all of that, we are now twenty-six minutes into the first studio hour.

And I have to say, I was not feeling optimistic about how I would feel about this at the beginning of the hour.

And here is the power of just showing up.

At this point in time, as I lay here still, staring up at my funny ceiling, which is that kind of ceiling you see in office buildings where it's tiled. Whoever designed the space, not something I would have chosen.

But you know what?

It works.

I have a studio.

I have a studio to do this in.

Really, I think sometimes it's just so easy to forget to look around and find gratitude. Not in a toxic positivity, spiritual bypassing way. But in a really truthful, honest way.

Like, look at this.

I have a roof over my head. My feet are on the earth. I am breathing. I am alive to feel the discomfort I feel. I am alive to experience the suffering and the sorrow.

And that does not mean it doesn't suck. And it does not mean it isn't hard. And it does not mean it makes anything terrible in this world go away.

But it does bring just an ounce of space. Space for seeing something good. Space for finding a tiny bit of hope. The kind of hope that can spark and ignite something bigger. A bigger awareness in us.

And space for creativity.

I really think the things we want in this world are created through love. Through connection. Through art. Through beauty.

So creating space for that and returning to that...

I don't know.

That's the experiment.

We'll see.

We will see.

Thank you for listening, whoever you are out there.

Sometimes it feels so funny to put anything out into the void of the internet, which is such a bizarre thing in and of itself. To put it out there and have no idea who, or when, or what will ever receive any of this.

And that's okay.

Honestly, that's beyond the point.

As much as showing up and sharing is a big part of this practice this summer, it is not the main thing. It's a practice in service of the bigger thing.

Okay.

Thank you.

Love you.

I hope you find a moment to lay down on the floor and feel the magic of how insanely wild it is that simply laying your body flat on whatever surface is nearest you, grass if you can, love that, the floor of your living room or your bedroom, or maybe even your office if you're bold enough...

Just lay down.

If you work in a communal office, I would love that. I would absolutely love that.

But wherever you are, whatever you're doing, if you find a little moment to lay down on the floor, I highly, highly recommend it.

The perspective shift alone is worth it.