I spent this winter learning that growth doesn't always look like progress. Sometimes, you're simply growing roots in the dark.
Exactly a year ago, I worked my way back to art after many years of avoiding that part of me. After a long day at work, I finally felt the urge to pick up some pencils and draw. I did it again the next night and the next. I gave myself permission to draw without the added pressure of posting online.
I laugh as I type this because it feels like the same thing is happening all over again. Except this time, for some reason, the stakes feel higher. I often find myself getting frustrated at the lack of results I was seeing. I was constantly getting sick and burnt out, and afterwards I would work even harder to make up for the time lost.
We think of winter as a season of slowing down. Animals hibernate. Plants don't grow as quickly. The nights are longer. Everything seems quieter. But underneath the surface, the roots are still growing.
Maybe I was expecting my own growth to be visible. This season found me in desperation to see finished work, opportunities, and maybe if you will, confidence too. But what if the growth was happening somewhere I couldn't see yet? I have made more work in a year than I have had in the past 4 years. I felt like I needed to make use of this momentum before it runs out again.
If you've been following me for a while, you might know that I was one of the three (very lucky!) recipients to be working with literary and illustration agent, Lorna Hemingway, after winning their inaugural Darley Anderson Illustration Mentorship Prize this year.
A few close friends have checked in every now and then to see how it’s going, and honestly, my answer is usually just: "Oh, it's going." Because it really has. It's been a process of building stamina, receiving feedback, making revisions, and simply keeping at it. Rinse and repeat.
In all honesty, the uncertainty of where it’s all leading has been so incredibly hard and uncomfortable. But maybe, that is exactly what growing roots feels like. It's going to be repetitive and slow before it looks impressive.
Maybe you're writing a novel, illustrating your first picture book, or simply trying to show up for your art practice again. Whatever it is, not every season blooms, and that's okay (take it from this late bloomer). This season taught me to fall in love with my own process, not the glorified one we see online, but mine. I'm learning to rest without guilt, to accept I can't do it all, and to let my partner know when I need help.
If you're in the Northern Hemisphere, here in Australia, September marks the start of spring (supposedly!). Our trees are still bare-naked, and I smile at that. I noted this as I walked home from work today. It has rained twice in the past two days and our laundry has piled up because of it. Even nature is taking its time to bloom. So why should I rush this part of the process?
I'm still in my winter. I don't have a finished portfolio just yet, and I sure don't know what's waiting on the other side for me. But as I look at the bare branches outside my window, I'm beginning to trust the timing.
Some of the most important things grow where no one can see them.
See you in Spring,
Christine
What I've loved this month:
BOOKS
Still writing by Dani Shapiro - This book surprised me! I've never been drawn to self-help or memoir books; they usually don't resonate with me. But Shapiro's words felt almost comforting to the soul. The way she describes feeling lonely as a child, and how that loneliness led her to observe the world and put it on paper. The way she needed to write even during life's worst moments, simply because she had to. It felt fitting to this season.
"It is in the thousands of days of trying, failing, sitting, thinking, resisting, dreaming, raveling, unraveling that we are at our most engaged, alert, and alive. Time slips away. The body becomes irrelevant. We are as close to consciousness itself as we will ever be. This begins in the darkness. Beneath the frozen ground, buried deep below anything we can see, something may be taking root. Stay there, if you can. Don't resist. Don't foce it, but don't run away. Endure. Be patient. The rewards cannot be measured. Not now. But whatever happens, any writer will tell you: This is the best part."
PODCASTS
The Illustration Department by Giuseppe Castellano - Very late to the party, but gosh, I am a fan. This podcast has kept me company through many long nights of painting this season. Real, raw conversations with agents, art directors, educators, and artists we all know and love. I admire the way Giuseppe questions the norm, and even more, encourages the listener to think that way too. Not everything we see online is the way. It's helped me redirect my focus back to my craft instead of constantly chasing trends. I don't know if Giuseppe will ever see this, but regardless, thank you Giuseppe!