Newsletter #15

[10/2023]

Hi dear ones,

I’m writing to you from beautiful Roussillon in South of France were I've been volunteering for the past month, fully embarking into this new chapter of my nomadic life. With this newsletter I’m sharing with you where i’m at -quite literally with the my new home on wheels!- as well as sharing some recent paintings. And you’ll find me reflecting “out loud”, via the keyboard, on my process and how I try to welcome the most instinctive parts of myself alongside the more intellectual ones.

And if you’d like to go back to previous newsletter, more content and access to my sketchbooks, here it is!
You can find original works through I share on Instagram; and here for commission work or by contacting me directly

A new home and back to school

When I last wrote to you I was on my way to say good bye to London and to my studio there as I finally took all my belongings with me, expanding from my backpacking experience of this past year onto a sightly bigger scale with my van.

I spent most of the summer finishing to build the inside and after much sweat I can happily (and proudly!) say that this little tiny nest on wheels feels like Home, and I'm well relieved everything did fit inside!
In order to make this life financially manageable I'm volunteering in exchange of food and of a safe place where to park. More than that, it feels like a wonderful opportunity to meet people and places, learn new skills and keep on seeking whatever my soul is seeking. 

And as if life is not full enough already I'm also starting a remote degree in Psychology; it's going to be hard work but I can sense it's the right path. I'm very curious to see where all of this ongoing change takes me.
And of course I'll keep on painting!

Musing on the process

Pretty revealing looking at one's mind as we paint!
What felt the most obvious is that for a similar process I can have a very different inner reaction: for example most of the time my painting process is instinctive, happens with speed as to not have time to intellectualise my observations.

If I'm in "a good day" (as in, I have energy, curiosity, openness) I feel very excited about this process, loving this slightly magical state of a painting happening without me thinking about how to make it happen, feeling very alive and present. I paint without judgement, enjoy each steps even the ones that look a bit ugly and silly, notice happy moments and keep the pace almost as if I'm a spectator to my own creation.

But on the other hand if I'm tired, worried, starting to impose some pressure on myself, then the mental story is all so different. I'm more scared of making marks, I focus on what's not working (and do this unfairly, as in I can get impatient, criticizing an early stage of the painting as if it should already be fully resolved) and the tough thing is that in those moments I'm thinking I should be slowing down, having a pause and I should think about the painting - because I know (some of) the theory, I know what I would suggest students to do, I know some logical steps to take in building a painting. But I feel I can't- my mind wants to order myself to think but I seem unable to get my self to listen. And so I feel stuck and stupid for not being able to accomplish those shoulds.

It's pretty interesting putting this into words. Right now I still don't know whether I should, or let's say want to find beneficial ways to sometimes think when I paint. It sounds like it'd be pretty useful. But at the same time painting without thinking feels so precious that maybe it's best for this to stay uncontaminated by thoughts. Maybe deep down I actually love those parts of me that refuse categorically to use intellect despite my mind asking for it, maybe they're protecting something quite special that needs to stay away from words.

That is not to say I dont think about painting, far from it I love doing so and having long conversations with friends. I also examine and critic my own work regularly and in those moments I make sure to be precise and clear with my words, as I find that a "gut feeling" is then too intangible to be constructive.

That's probably it. It's probably important to my heart that painting time is from the guts, without words ; and vice versa for when I get to evaluate. The former wants to be free and playful, it's like a kid - the later benefits from being as objective as possible, it's the grown up. I can't, and don’t want, to mix the two. What I can develop is letting them take turns with flow - and recognise that I need certain levels of energy for each. As well as acceptance and encouragement for them both.