Art and Soup

Driving home after a day of painting in the studio, I am starving. I fantasize about the food I’ll pull together when I get home. What do we have? Who is eating? What can I cut up first to satisfy the hunger in me so that I can actually make a satisfying meal—and not burn it? On any other day, one that didn’t include painting, I might feel an eagerness to pull things out of the fridge and create an impromptu soup or stir-fry. But today, I’m already spent.

The creative process, whether in my kitchen or studio, begins with a nudge to satisfy a hunger—to mix the colors or stir the pot. Inspiration turns to action when I tend to myself first. From there, the output begins to flow. The action—pulling the proverbial car away from the curb—happens when desire and will overcome fear.

Sometimes I see something out the window, on a walk, or even while scrolling through social media that reminds me of an earlier idea that never had the chance to express itself. I hold onto it loosely, and it evolves by the time I reach the paint studio. The same goes for the idea of cheese and crackers; it might shift by the time I get home. Maybe the blueberries look good—and they don’t require a knife or cutting board. Yes, and…

Small table work. Sitting at the kitchen table with my mom in November, we made small collages using a recipe book that belonged to her mom. It’s filled with handwritten notes in cursive and torn recipes from pudding and sour cream packages. The collage incorporates scraps of paintings from my studio, and the stories seem to write themselves.