On Beginning Again

fallow1 /ˈfaləʊ/ adjective
1. (of farmland) ploughed and harrowed but left for a period without being 
​sown in order to restore its fertility or to avoid surplus production.
"incentives for farmers to let land lie fallow"
Similar: uncultivated. unploughed, untilled, unplanted, unsown
unseeded, unused, undeveloped, dormant, resting, empty, bare, virgin,
neglected, untended, unmaintained, unmanaged
Opposite: cultivated
2. (of a period of time) characterized by inaction; unproductive.
"long fallow periods when nothing seems to happen"

I love to make artwork. Being in this making is exciting and purposeful. I start to live in the narrative of whatever is being made, a heightened state of beginnings, developings, crescendos, finales. For me, quite simply it is Bliss. When I finish a series of work, I will have a strong notion of where I am going next. This might, in fact be how I am able to let that series go. Yet,  heartbreakingly, however hard I try to leap straight back into action,  I always experience a fallow period between projects, and these are times I struggle to tolerate.

‘Fallow’ The very definition of the word makes me twitchy. Who wants to be ‘uncultivated, unused, empty, resting’? Not me! Being unproductive makes me anxious. Chimeras of loss arise: if I stop, will I ever start again? What if I never make work again? Worse, in my mind’s eye, the work I have already made becomes insubstantial, illusory, even, like Euridice receding into shadow lands. It is as if I can only make all that work real again is by making more.

In younger days, that is precisely what I did, turning out work for the sake of working. I have learned that, beyond, keeping one’s hand and eye in, this is almost always an unproductive endeavour, postponing rather than preventing the, for me, inevitable period of just doing nothing. If the farmer leaves his land to lie fallow to restore its fertility, I suppose I should learn to trust in the process and wait with patience until new shoots arise and I can begin again.

“It’s important to remember that making art is a process. It is never finished…. Each thing you make is part of a continuum, and you are always developing. You don’t always get it right, but I find that approaching everything as a work in progress allows you to take the good with the bad.”   
​Mel Robson - Ceramicist

These are wise words. While your next project carries the burden of having to justify your entire existence as an artist, how can you possibly start? The way to loosen the grip of these requirements is, of course, to play. When you are playful, you slip away from self-judgement and the judgement of others, be it real or imaginary, and arrive in uncharted territory, where you can be curious about where you are and open to not knowing exactly what will happen or how things end. Playfulness and curiosity carry us right back to that state of Bliss.

Where I find myself today is, potentially, at the end of a fallow period. Two possible series are beginning to gleam at the edge of my field of vision, both of these will (almost certainly) be series of paintings. Since beginning again is pretty intimidating, I have begun with the basics: playing with the illusion of three-dimensional forms on a flat piece of paper. We all have to start somewhere!