Good News and the Reset that Wasn’t

What are you doing on January 7, 2028?

Haven’t thought that far ahead? Me, neither. At least not until yesterday afternoon, when I learned that the proposal I submitted to the Shenandoah Valley Art Center this summer had been selected. I’ll be having an exhibit in their Virginia Ross Invitational Gallery in fifteen months!

I am beyond excited and can’t wait to dive into the work. More details to follow, of course, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up so my California peeps can make travel arrangements. The exhibit will run through the end of February 2028.

In other news, my beloved was recently away on a grand adventure that took him to three different countries over the course of three weeks. I love him, but I also love my alone time, and I had planned to use those twenty-one days as a bit of a reset. A personal retreat at home. A time to reflect, write in my journal, spend more time in the studio, and generally get my proverbial poop together.

Yeah. So that didn’t happen.

It’s true that I spent more time in the studio, and I’m happy with the work I produced. But the rest of my time vacillated between reckless debauchery (scrolling until 1 a.m., which is about three hours past my normal bedtime) and dealing with the vicissitudes of life: a broken washing machine, a beeping smoke alarm, and a fender bender involving one of Charlottesville’s finest.

But it was the scrolling, the mindless, stupid scrolling, that kept me from embracing the intentions I’d set for myself.

One of those intentions was to submit a fellowship application to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. All that was required was a CV, a 200-word artist statement, and eight images of recent work.

No problem.

Except that it was a problem.

Why else would I let that application hang around my shoulders like a wet albatross for weeks?

Easy. It was that silly tape loop playing in my head. The one we all sometimes have to put up with. The one that tells me I’m not worthy.

Who do I think I am? How dare I imagine that my work could be considered alongside that of artists like Sally Mann and Cy Twombly?

It took me weeks to quiet those thoughts and finally arrive at a place where I could ask myself, Why not?

And once I did, submitting the application was easy.

Off it went yesterday.

The moment I clicked “Submit,” I felt the weight of that wet albatross melt away. And just a few hours later, I discovered the acceptance email from the Shenandoah Valley Art Center.

Funny how that works.

My beloved returned on Sunday, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to embrace a routine. The washing machine is working, the smoke alarm has stopped beeping, and the fellowship application is out of my hands.

I didn’t have the twenty-one-day retreat I’d imagined. I didn’t spend my evenings writing in my journal or contemplating the mysteries of life. I spent far too many of them staring at my phone.

But I made art. I submitted the application. And I have a new exhibit to look forward to.

Maybe that’s enough of a reset for now.