Leaning, Then Catching My Fall
How do we look past creeping anxiety to see where our community can help us?
Tired minds aren’t ideal communicators, and I’m tired. Champions is nearing actual completion. I am in a mad rush toward that finale. I’m not an athlete, not even metaphorically. Each graphite line, each subsequent brushstroke, is heavier than the last. Arduous. The shimmer of the finish line is tarnished by knowing there’s no big finish, no rest, no end. It’s onto the next.
I’m not invincible.
Fighting nihilism is an ongoing dance when defining myself. I’m not leaning on faith and imaginary friends. I’ve got me, and I’ve got real friends. That’s the key to staying upright and preventing slouching toward defeat. Sometimes we’re not enough on our own, and we have to ask for help and lean on one another. A strong community is everything.
Over the last week I gave a talk in Sioux Falls on growing a community, I hosted a Drink & Draw in Ankeny, then I drove back to Sioux Falls for the Art Collective. It was only 1100 miles. I’m pretty good at burning rubber down the highway, but a jam-packed week took it’s toll on me. Admittedly, I struggled to keep my, “I just came to party down,” visage and by Sunday night I was a shambling corpse of my former self.
Back and forth, from event to event, I meditated on: what the hell am I going to write in this entry? What is there to even be said between the ticking odometer and the whirlwind of putting myself out there? I did some cool things. I talked up Patreon and identifying an audience, I hosted a great Drink & Draw with a fantastic crowd, and I had an okay Art Collective. But it wasn’t the me part that made any of this possible or worth it. It was my community.
The speaking engagement with the Watering Can at Rehfeld’s would never have happened if I didn’t know Claudia, the program’s founder. Several years ago, Claudia taught a class that I almost didn’t take. She opened doors to the arts community. Many of the folks I met in that community came to the talk, some of whom are amongst my closest friends. These people created opportunity and filled seats because they care about me and what I have to say. I even reconnected with creators I hadn’t seen in years, and met new artists I know I’ll stay in touch with.
The wild, bonkers, week would have been impossible without Cathryn. She makes everything possible. From planning the trips to bringing folks into Dylan’s Drink & Draw, she made the whole week a well-oiled machine.
When I look at Drink & Draw, I see so clearly that it brimmed with people who already gave a damn about what I was up to. Family, friends, my trivia team, they all came out. I brought in judges who each had different reasons to get involved. (Brook, if you read this, thanks for putting yourself out there!) During the planning phases of Drink & Draw, I had completely overlooked Dean Sturtevant as a guest. Dean’s been a staple of the boots-on-the-street Des Moines Art scene. If there’s an underground or growing show, he knows it. If there’s an emerging or working artist, he knows them. Inviting Dean to judge brought both his energy and a cohort of contestants. The guy who’s invited me to shows suddenly filled one of mine.
By the time I made it back to Sioux Falls for the Art Collective, I was exhausted. Coffee, my ever constant companion, worked incredibly hard for little in return. Exhaustion became definitionally me. Yet again, my community made things happen. Two of my most stalwart patrons, Galacia and Amanda, made sure I got my table on time. They got me in the building, and looked past my stressed out husk to the creator they came to help.
Gray clouds blurred my periphery at the show. I wanted to be done, to rest. I watched as artists around me connected with their fans, friends, and family. An itching sense gnawed from the clouds, no one would see my set up in the same way. Nihilism was after me. It obscured how nice it was to see faces of people who stood by me when my career started. It wanted to win.
The show ended in a flash. Artists cleared out quick enough that the struggle of tearing down my set up overcame me. Somehow, through my growing anxiety, I managed to ask for help from folks around me. That’s unlike me. As someone with a disability, I try hard not to need anyone. But I needed help, and I asked. Help gave me room to flood out frustration and exhaustion. Everyone looked past it, though.
Time was necessary to see things from a constructive perspective. Shutting my mind off for a night got me out of my own way. By the time I sat down to write this, I realized what the gray clouds were hiding from me. On a biological level, I needed a break. There’s a break waiting out there for me, somewhere. On a community level, people showed up for me in droves. Maybe they weren’t all in front of my table at the Art Collective. That’s okay. They came to the Watering Can. They filled tables at Dylan’s Drink & Draw. They gave me a bed and donuts! They pitched in, fed me even. My people came out for drinks after a long day. My community showed me patience and grace. My family answered late calls and mowed the lawn while they waited for me to come home.
I’ve got people everywhere. They’re worth getting my work done and seeing what’s next.
Today’s Tune
Piece of the Week
