Only Weather
Only Weather
It is the depths of winter in Minnesota and we just came through a pretty intense stretch of sub-zero air temps that began in late-December. In January so far, there have been only a handful of days in positive air temps, and none without a negative windchill. Today as I write this, I look outside and the sky is the same color as the ground a cool, blue-tinted high key grey. A palette begging for color, a photo wishing for the warmth of a yellow sun. This weather is a gift. I’m working on trying to not ascribe judgment to the patterns of cold temperature warnings and snowfall estimates. I’m trying to learn how to be present in this moment, to breath through the spike of anxiety when my phone buzzes, “Winter Weather Advisory” or “Blizzard Warning” again. There is no such thing as bad weather. Only weather. Whether we find ways to exist alongside these cold, snowy landscapes with joy or angst is up to us, even as I tend to trend toward despair.
The weather this time of year forces slowing down. I learned this lesson the hard way in December 2019 when, in a rush to get going with my busy and packed day I did not slow down enough as I turned off our road and onto 260th. The speed combined with the turn meant braking was irrelevant and so I veered precariously, sliding over the edge of the road. I had always wondered how a vehicle would end up off the road and facing the other direction. “People going too fast” Vaimo would tell me. And then I got to experience it myself. I was grateful for the snow pile that stopped my vehicle from tumbling off the edge, my all-wheel drive vehicle had two tires stuck on a decline in a snow bank and the other two tires no longer contacting the road. I experienced that slow motion phenomenon where time makes one more observer than participant as I watched myself careening beyond the edge. After the snow stopped my vehicle, I also felt like I was in an action movie stunt, like with any wrong shift in my weight the car would tumble over the edge. This meant I held my breath and tried to counter balance my mass as I gently and carefully leaned over from my elevated seat toward the passenger side to retrieve my phone that had been flung over that way to call for help. Slow down Kandace, slow down.
In a Minnesota winter everything takes longer. You must don more layers each time you hope to exit the warm home. I’ve been tracking down scarves and gloves and hats and choosing my snow boot based on the snowfall. Sliding the boot on to my foot and lacing up is a true chore. A minute to boot up instead of seconds to slip on. I wear all of these things to drive down to the mailbox. After a snowfall it’s time to move the snow off the driveway. After the windstorm it’s about addressing the drifts that slow the car’s wheels as we attempt to make it off the compound. Everywhere takes a little longer to reach. It takes longer to speed up and slow down. Minnesotans learn a choreograph of taking foot off the gas peddle instead of applying the brake when gliding over an icy stretch of pavement. Slowing down through releasing pressure; counterbalancing, fighting the instincts of putting on the brakes to stop. The weather these days requires a slowdown and I’m trying to listen. I lounge a little longer under the covers in the morning. I read a few minutes more under my blanket on the couch. I take slow and purposeful breaths as the water warms in the kettle and as my tea steeps. Going slow, slow going, is an ethic I do not yet know by heart. I’m trying to take my lessons from nature, from the birds who are nestled in the fallen trees. They’re not singing in the mornings yet. I’m trying to emulate the squirrels who, while busy, also rest and stop to feel the sun on their fur on the rare days when she breaks through the cloud layer. I want to be like Muskrat who has made a home under the ice, we’ll see her when the waters thaw, but until then she’s resting. She’s taking comfort in the warmth of the ice. I want to no longer need to be reminded that snow insulates.
It’s fifteen days into the new calendar year and I am struggling with slowing down despite my environment requiring it of me. I have all these plans for the work that needs to be in the world through my hand and instead of achieving I’m tinkering around the edges. Everyday, I show up to work and pass the time by preparing for the birth of these paintings, the writing. I find more joy in decluttering, in the visual emptiness of a cleared off desk, in my freshly swept studio floor or reorganized fabric stash. I’m just not feeling the call to create right now, so I’m focusing on being ready when the feelings come back to me. I’ve told my nearest and dearests “I’m gestating.” I hope that this isn’t procrastination or resistance. But even if it is, at least I’ll have a clean worksite at the end of all of this. The snow will melt, the ice will thaw, I’ll find a way to weather this creative drought. It’s ok to go slow, I’m writing this to you so that I can believe it too. There’s no such thing as bad weather.
What I’m Reading
Dear Memory by Victoria Chang
If you’re looking for a book that will give you a poet’s take on silence, grief, and intergenerational trauma, this is a beautiful offering. Chang’s approach through letters and mixed media poems derived from her family archive is a testament to the power of challenging what a book is/can be. And as a writer who is deeply invested in writing, the book interweaves meditations on craft alongside trying to make sense of the silence in her family. Wading through memories from different vantage points, this unique family memoir will the leave the reader wanting to revel in the turn of phrases, marvel at Chang’s ability to begin and end an essay, and most importantly make one feel something along the way.
Artist Offerings
- I’ve been reading through the Woven Tale Press and dreaming about my work in this online forum
- Absolutely enthralled by these Chie Fueki paintings
- Still trying to get yourself together for the new year? Check out this free resource on closing out 2021 and beginning your plans for this one - Year Compass
- Erick Medel’s stitched paintings are divine
- My critique group I’m a part of has been thinking through the concept of bad art and when I’m feeling down about my work I spend some time with these strange and compelling offerings
- I hope I’m still painting when I’m 100, RIP Wayne Thiebaud
- A fan of Joan Didion and Myriam Gurba, this is a very excellent essay by the latter about the late former
Creative Ritual
I have been resting as evidence from a full month passing since my last newsletter. Look at me! Taking a break, going slower than I believe I need to go! That said, all my goals are taking longer than anticipated. But I’m making it somehow. I submitted a grant application for material support for the big painting series I’m currently working. I’ve painted a bit here or there. I’ve listened to a few albums many times in my studio. I’ve started this new thing where I’m posting on my Instagram everyday, more as an accountability for me to do something…anything that advances my “art career” though the likes and new follows certainly buoy the spirit. In sub-zero temps I somehow managed to take five paintings from my Interior Intimacy Series to my community college alma mater where they are on view through February 24th (and I’ll be doing an artist talk there on the day the show comes down). Stop by and see the work! Can’t make it? I’ll be posting some shots of the show on my Instagram. Lastly, I have released some small works on canvas paper to my Ko-Fi Shop. You heard it here first! If you’d like a little ArtofKCF original follow the link, the sale will be publicized beginning Monday so if you have your eye on something, snatch it up!
Questions to ponder
How are you slowing down?
Does nature impact your rhythms?
Does nature impact your rhythms?
What does winter mean to you?
What can the cold teach us?
Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time.
-KCF
PS: Special shout out to my newest monthly supporter Brittney <3. Gracias to all my one-time and monthly sustainers, your support helps fund the work of this newsletter, keeping it free for everyone.
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