The Studio for Hesitant Artists
I know an artist's creative space, or any creative space for that matter, is highly personal. You can tell a lot about a creative mind by how they arrange their creative space. Cluttered or clear of mess. Full of trinkets and comfort items or serious and completely down to business, it's whatever works for the person, I guess.
If I could, I would open a studio for “hesitant artists”, as this is exactly what I consider myself to be.
“Hesitant” by definition “describes someone who is slow to act, speak, or make a decision, usually due to uncertainty, doubt, or nervousness. It indicates a temporary pause or, maybe a lack of confidence, rather than a firm refusal.”
I think that is the first distinction I would make. My studio would not be “The Studio for Reluctant Artists”—those who hold back because they are just not interested in the creative process or are completely unwilling to give it a try. The Studio for Hesitant Artists, rather, would give time, space, and understanding to those who are pausing or holding back, for whatever reason.
And believe me, there are many, many reasons why an artist may be hesitant, but, I am starting to see very clearly these days, that what matters is what you do with that hesitation.
Because hesitation is a funny thing and a very human response. It is protective and it is vulnerable. If not handled with care, curiosity and compassion, hesitation can very quickly turn from a pause before action to something a lot darker and more destructive, and, sometimes, beautiful creative opportunities can be lost.
Before one can reveal themselves to others, they must first examine and reflect about their own journey with making art and with creativity in general. So, here is my story.
My first defining memory of creating transports me back in my small country classroom with my art teacher, Mr Coyte. In year 11 and 12, I was extremely blessed to have just one other person in my art class with me. Mr Coyte was an extremely gifted and well established artist himself but was also very humble about that fact, so again, I feel like I was incredibly lucky.
Art classes in years 7-10 felt chaotic, however, once it was an elective and I was basically left alone, with time and space to think and reflect, the art room and art became my favourite thing.
And then everything changed when I was offered the school's beat up video camera as a piece of equipment. I have never considered myself to be “good” at drawing or painting. I could never capture what I was thinking or feeling and I would often just get frustrated and feel shame with my attempts. But with that camera, and it's 2006 era cassette tapes, I felt free. Mindful. Open to experiment and, suddenly, it was okay if such experiments didn't work. I had permission to fail and try again, over and over again.
I could then use the computer lab in the art room to splice together all the moments I had captured to tell a story—my story. But also, one completely open to interpretation. I had a voice and I didn't have to say anything.
My video for Year 11 was titled “Nocturnal Visions” and it was full of night imagery and plenty of experimentation. For example, I can now safely say that trying to move objects seemingly by magic but with the use of fishing line did not work out so well. The camera picks up everything, evidently.
“Nocturnal Visions” was also fun because I could blend images with my other love, music. This video was set to “Time” by Pink Floyd. It was by no means perfect but it was mine.
My video for Year 12 took the full year to create. It was allowed to be a maximum of 8 minutes in length. It was titled “Hold Your Breath”.
So much was going on for me at this time. I couldn't really comprehend and a lot of feelings I just didn't have words for. But I had the camera and I worked hard. I took video from home, including one experiment in my backyard, where I placed a bowl of some flammable liquid on a platform. I then placed the camera under the bowl pointing up. Finally, I lit the liquid on fire. My dog Basil also appeared in one shot for a brief cameo moment.
Today, that whole fire process could be done with the click of a filter button but there was really something wonderful in trial and error and, finally getting the shot I was looking for. I also took footage at school, in the town and on holidays at Manly Beach. With all of this, I could tell my story. I created something that I am still very proud of today. It has survived the test of time for many reasons.
But there is an extra layer to the story of “Hold Your Breath”.
You see, I didn't feel like creativity was valued a lot for me growing up. I was very rigid in my thinking and very shy. I also felt a lot of internalised pressure to perform academically right through school and on into university. It was sometimes very debilitating and still affects me to this day.
So, on top of the usual storm that surrounds the HSC for any kid, I had an additional layer. A, “well if I do well, perform well, then maybe I am okay and I am worthy”. But I'll tell you, the weight of that layer nearly killed me and no one should have to or can carry that for very long.
As I sit here 20 years later, I think it's very telling and very interesting that, even back then, it was where I felt the most free, safe, and able to explore my feelings with the right time and guidance, that I thrived.
I can see that “Hold Your Breath” mattered far more to me than the relentless pressure to achieve a coveted HSC score in the 90s.
I felt genuine pride my artwork was chosen for the Art Express exhibition and subsequently displayed in The Art Gallery of NSW in 2007, amongst other places. As I stood at the opening, what mattered to me the most, in that moment, was that I understood myself better through the process of making art. I was proud, not because I had beat out others to make it there, but because I had made something truly Laura Garretty out of nothing.
There is the beginning of your hesitant artist right there. I could have given up for so many reasons, but once I paused, found a medium that suited me, I had a story that was needing to be told.
The next development of me as a hesitant artist requires a creative fast forward in time of about 10 years, and involves a surprising gift.
Some way into my university education, my parents, of all people, gifted me a Canon EOS camera limited edition in fire engine red. I still use it today.
The camera lay dormant in its pretty case for quite some time, I'll admit. Study, my poor mental health, that good old fear of not being “good enough” so why start, many things got in between that camera and I, but once I started taking photos, I couldn't stop. It became like therapy for me and my soul. Photography made me slow down to actually notice the world, be more present and mindful, and got me out of the house on days I didn't think I could get out of bed. “Mistakes” were not mistakes, they were just opportunities to try another way, because if something didn't work out, I could just take the shot again. This kind of flexibility rarely showed up in other parts of my life at this time, but photography never failed me. And just like “Hold Your Breath”, I could tell whatever story I wanted to and people could take it or leave it. Open to interpretation but my perspective still had a place. I'm happy with that.
Another creative outlet that developed for me in my 20's was creative writing, mainly poems and short stories.
Oh boy! This is where the hesitant artist in me thrives, but if I look at it with curiosity, writing and me have quite a complex and interesting relationship.
Firstly, I am currently working on loosening the perfectionistic vice like grip I sometimes put on this craft. So many years and so many stories have been lost to me being so paralysed by the blank page and the need to get it “right” (whatever that actually means), and first time at that, no less. So often I have abandoned an idea altogether, not out of reluctance, but out of fear and the pressure of making perfection the key and the mistaken idea that nothing good can come from flaws or failure. For me, it still plays out a bit like “write nothing or write a universal masterpiece” and I am personally working on filling that gap in between, and for no one else but me.
Starting to read my work at spoken word events was another life changing time for me. There was something incredibly beautiful about taking the time and space to write and then getting to perform it every fortnight, not for scores or even for clicks really, but instead for the fact that I could process so much alone and then it could go somewhere. Although my hands were always shaking, my words were mine and they had power.
So that's a bit about me. Everyone has their own creative journey and experience.
Mine hasn't always been easy and, like I said, I still wrestle with very deep barriers to my creative freedom. This is exactly why I believe The Studio for Hesitant Artists should exist somewhere. Maybe this space can become that place for other hesitant artists too, a space for imperfect, uncertain, quietly creative people to exist without apology.
Because with the right conditions, hesitation doesn't have to mean avoidance or shame or fear. If hesitation is nurtured properly, it can flourish, with time and freedom, into something more confident, driven, passionate, highly individual yet so universal and exciting, and that, in itself, is a beautiful thing.