Hi there,
I want to say how much I love writing this newsletter! For those who don’t know, I got my Master’s in technical writing at UNC-Wilmington and taught writing composition there as a TA and professor. I enjoy the writing process as much as my painting process.
These letters give me a reason to write again, and they let me be more creative than the research-heavy writing I explored a few years ago. Since grad school, most of my writing about art has been for Instagram captions. With the pace of social media, Instagram posts only feel “alive” for one day, and I tend to write them quickly. These long-form newsletters give me an opportunity to sit with my thoughts and reflect on my artistic process and more. It feels like a way to resist the sense of urgency I sometimes feel in day-to-day life.
As an independent artist, I often feel a need to “get to the next thing.” The fast, efficient, multi-tasked programming built into each day can leave my brain feeling like a scrambled grey cloud. Scattered. Urgency is something that has bled into all of our lives, for better or for worse. Quick gratification, busy schedules, comparisons, and expectations, work smart-not hard, pick up the pace, get it done now—it all feels fast to me. And the opposite notion of carrying a “lack of urgency” and slowing down really interests me.
A few years ago, my older brother Des’s wife, Emi, gave me a book called “The Things You Can Only See When You Slow Down” by Haenim Sunim, and it changed my perspective on how I was living my day-to-day life. My mindset on whether I was “good enough” was based on if I was productive enough.
Growing up, it felt like I had a stopwatch eyeing me down at times. Things were done quickly in our house. Sometimes my family would race into the grocery store: my siblings and I were told which items to get, we split up, and then met back at the check-out line. The outcome: fast, efficient grocery shopping. Events and times were mapped out perfectly so we would arrive just on time. In most things, efficiency felt vital.
I have a very efficient, go-go-go way of living. I know and enjoy the positives of this way of being. But sometimes, I don’t know how to slow down to savor the present, as I’m already thinking about the next item on the list. I can feel guilty for doing nothing or taking my time. My impatience makes me frustrated at those around me sometimes. I’ve worked on it since realizing it was a big issue for me in high school. My heart starts beating fast if we don’t leave for a road trip at the planned time. I feel worked up and annoyed if someone takes too long to get ready. But for what? What could happen that is so bad?
I don’t like that I have these visceral reactions in my body to slower paces and changes in schedule. It’s been one of the hardest things to battle, but it gets easier as time goes on. I think I’ve made good headway in shifting my perspective on how I want to carry on living my life.
The most pivotal part of this journey all started in a grocery store.
Des, Emi, and I were driving down to Georgia for Thanksgiving about 3 years ago and we decided to make a pit stop at a grocery store. Walking in through the front doors, I asked what we needed to get. I was ready to get in and get out.
Emi said “Let’s go look at the beauty aisle.”
And I was like “Why?” …
“Just to look! It’ll be fun” she responded as she led the way.
Browsing the beauty aisle on a road trip might seem like a fine and normal thing to do. But to me, it was foreign. At that moment, the priority shifted away from “We’re on a road trip; let’s get back in the truck and keep going to reach our destination as fast as possible” —to— “You have time, go enjoy the pitstop.” Suddenly, everything felt peaceful. The stopwatch stopped ticking, and my brain let go of the ETA.
This is not a standout magical moment, but I think about this memory and feeling often. I try to remind myself to slow down when I go grocery shopping, when I get ready in the morning, when I go art supplies shopping, when I say goodbye to people… everything.
I’ve enjoyed pulling off the road to stop at cute trinket shops or funky-looking mega gas stations on road trips. My boyfriend Jack is very adventurous and “go with the flow,” so he prompts some off-the-schedule adventures. One time, we pulled over at this strange, zombieland-looking junkyard city outside of Holden Beach and met the owner, Dale, who gave us a 30-minute schpeal about his life as one of Pablo Escobars's associates smuggling drugs into the US. We wouldn't have met the mysterious Dale without wandering off and slowing down.
By the way: Google Dale Varnam! He’s an interesting man.
Overall, I’ve gotten better at not getting upset about a long restaurant wait or a slower walker on a busy sidewalk. I want to have a “don’t worry, we’ll get there, it’ll all be okay” mindset, like Emi. The book she gave me is my favorite book. It’s short and easy to read, but it’s still my favorite book because of how it changed me. My copy is full of underlines and bookmarked pages.
Here is one of my favorite quotes from the book:
“What makes music beautiful is the distance between one note and another. What makes speech eloquent is the appropriate pause between words. From time to time, we should take a breath and notice the silence between sounds.”
Thoughts About My Creativity & Urgency
I’ve realized that when I’m tapped in to a creative process, I don’t experience that felt sense of urgency. It doesn’t exist when I’m writing or when I’m in the studio. When I’m painting, there’s time to settle into the moment. I’m not focused on what comes after but feel entirely consumed in the present moment.
From an outsider's view, I can see how someone might think I am moving with haste as I paint. When people ask me how long a painting takes, I’ll say something like “sometimes a day, sometimes a few days. It just depends” And their eyes get a little bigger and they ask “Oh, really? how!”
It does not take months or weeks to produce my work. I have a quick hand. I usually spend all day captivated by one painting at a time. Though the natural lifespan of my painting process is short, I’ve realized that my artmaking is one of the main things in my life that slows me down—by nature and by choice. From building the canvas, thinking of compositions, and resting with the piece after painting, my process gives me time to slow down and think between steps.
When I’m painting, I think it’s the closest I’ll ever get to being fully present in the present.
Composition
When I am not painting, I am still thinking about art all day. From when I wake up to when I go to bed (and even in my dreams), I think of compositions and daydream about how art could manifest. There’s no rush when coming up with ideas. There’s no timer when pondering colors or memories.
Building Canvases
The act of making the frame, wrapping the canvas, and applying the coats of gesso adds a methodical slowness. Those extra steps take a day and a half. And through the building process, I feel more embedded in the physical sense of my work because I’ve made it entirely from scratch. Running to Micheals to restock canvases doesn’t give me or the work the same feeling. It’s empowering to build my own canvases. And to know what my canvas cloth is made from, to know my primer is high quality, to know I drilled each piece of wood together to make a sturdy frame that will last.
I can now build my own canvases! (This a big deal to me as I’ve never felt that working with miter saws or drills was something I’d feel good at or genuinely like. For the past 6 months, Jack has been making them for me.)
Sitting With It
When a painting feels “done,” I leave it somewhere around the house where I can look at it for the next few days. I analyze it and decide if anything needs to change. I determine my closeness to the girl in the painting. I'm not sure it's something you can determine, but I try. I just let the painting simmer. And then I know what steps I need to take to finish her, or if she has told me she’s done.
I will always be grateful for the grocery store moment with Emi, the book she gifted me, and the shift in perspective that came along with it. I hope she knows how much that moment meant to me (hi emi if you’re reading!). Thinking about the pace of life is now more important to me. And when I feel the physical sense of being impatient, I’m reminded to slow it down.
“We can be consumed by anger for a long time without realising we have been angry. Similarly, we are easily lost in thought without knowing we have been thinking. Even when we are awake we are no different from a sleepwalker. We do things without the awareness of doing them. Just because our eyes are open does not mean we are awake.” (p. 66)
A FEW special notes:
(I told you I would update you on fairs and the void. Both have spoken!)
- First, I got into another art fair! “East Hampton Art Affair at Herrick Park” is up in The Hamptons June 17-29th. I’ve never been to the Hamptons or anywhere in New York besides NYC. I’m very excited!
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Second, I applied to be in an installation inside the art-driven Charlotte restaurant, Counter… and I got in! Counter rotates art quarterly alongside their menus, ingredients, and tableware. A perpetual rotation of elements and storytelling. This constant exchange of energy is a concept I very much align with. So, starting February 27th, another artist and I will be exhibiting there. I’m currently building an 8-by-8 canvas for the show and was gifted a surfboard to paint by an amazing girl named Hannah down on Wrightsville Beach! I don’t have a concrete plan for what I’m doing with the board or canvas, but I am not worried. I’ll figure it out!
- This is really exciting because getting my art outside of coastal NC was one of my 2025 business goals.
If you have other media (books, movies, podcasts, talks) centered on the act of slowing down, please share them with me!
Thank you for reading. Lots of love,
GERB
P.S.
Abigail Toal: I know you read this. Text me. Love you!
