Abbeth Russell In Conversation With Eva Goetz

Abbeth Russell and I have been friends for a number of years. She shows her work in galleries and on the streets of Portland on First Fridays, and has toured the country many times with her art and music. I asked Abbeth about her strategies for releasing stuckness or blocks that may keep her from completing or pushing through projects.

Eva Goetz

 

EG: Abbeth, how do you know when you’re stuck? What does stuckness feel like to you?

AR: I know I’m stuck when I have an urge to start a new project instead of continuing with the one I am in the middle of. This happens in every aspect of my life. I am often reading five or more books at once and will start a new one when stuck in the dull parts of others. The same mechanism happens in my painting process, which leads me to usually have dozens of paintings and multiple series all in progress at the same time.

EG: So when the energy of “newness” is alive your creative juices flow and the shadow of stuckness doesn’t exist?

AR: I never have a problem getting started. The only problem is that I love that feeling of “new” energy too much and it can block me from the more challenging middle of the creative process. The middle is where all the hard work is.

EG: Do you hit pause on a piece in your process and put it away for a while? Is there a difference between being stuck versus pausing?

AR: The feeling of being stuck feels close to sadness or anxiety. It is a physical feeling I have when I am making the work that blocks me from joy, flow, and the excitement of creation. When I am stuck I feel distracted, which is why I think my strategy is often to start something new or even switch between mediums. Pausing feels more like relaxation, I love the feeling of taking time to sit back and look at an in-progress painting. It almost feels like watching an enjoyable movie or TV show unfolding.

EG: Are there any other ways of moving through the anxious spaces you speak of?

AR: I also really love working on art in the presence of other creative people, whether it’s with just one friend who is working on a song or a whole group of visual artists that I’ve invited to bring their projects into my studio or a shared space. This often allows me to focus enough to break through a stuck place within a specific piece. I have found deadlines helpful, even if they are arbitrary. Sometimes I tuck all other pieces out of view and really zero in on one. The feeling of being close to finishing a piece is as exciting to me as starting a new one. Actually, it’s more exciting!

EG: What’s the longest time you’ve left a painting or project defined as “stuck” to simmer before you’ve gone back to it? Have you abandoned stuck projects and never returned?

AR: There is a painting I finished a few years ago called What I See in Me. I view this painting as a collaboration with my past self. I hadn’t touched it in ten years. When I worked on it again, I could feel all the changes and inner progress I had made. The struggles and everything that had happened in those years in between were also alive as I returned to this piece. The subject matter of this painting fits the process; it is a self-portrait of me looking at an unrecognizable and strange face in the mirror. I always come back to stuck paintings eventually. When I get low on my stock of wood panels, working back into or over stuck places in unfinished pieces often feels easier than building new panels. If you x-rayed my paintings you would find so many layers and images embedded inside of them.

EG: I know you’re also a musician and songwriter. Are there times you use one medium to free yourself from the other? In other words, do you leave a painting that has you scratching your head and write a song and then come back “new” and now able to complete what you were working on?

AR: Absolutely! Often singing or playing music or writing a song can release the stuck emotions that painting can’t quite express. When I’m painting it feels like entering a deep dark place of exploration. Making music is a way to pull myself out of that deep dark place. I love when my words inform my visuals and my visuals inform my words. Painting titles often come from lines in my songs or poems, which is why sometimes my titles are absurdly long. Currently I am working on a show where my paintings, music, words, performance, and sculptures are all thematically connected. The theme is Priestess of the Moon.

EG: That sounds exciting. I hear stuckness feels very visceral for you Abbeth—even dark—is that correct? I’m wondering if combining all the ways you enjoy creating will lighten your emotional load as you progress with this project?

AR: Stuckness does feel dark but this darkness is possibly what has led me to find so many new forms of creative expression. Yes, I can see this project doing that for me. But in typical form, while in the process of working over the past year, I have started and restarted multiple other projects. I am using my strategy of setting an arbitrary deadline. I would love to have this multimedia Priestess of the Moon project finished and ready to share by late spring or early summer.

EG: Abbeth, you clearly have a lot of energy! And stuckness for you does not sound like “stopping.” Is that right?

AR: Ever since I was pretty young I’ve had a constant feeling of “no matter how much I’m doing it’s not enough.” I think the challenge for me is to learn how to stop without the fear that I won’t start again. I think that’s called relaxing!

EG: Abbeth, thanks for this conversation. Is there a question you wished I would have asked or any other musings you’d like to share with us about your process?

AR: No, I think that’s enough about me for now. I’d like to bring you into the conversation Eva. What does stuckness mean for you? I always love hearing your perspectives!

EG: Stuckness, as you have explained, can be maddening, even after all these years. I resonate with you when you speak about the excitement of new beginnings. It’s usually my inner critic that leads me to the realm of being stuck. That’s when critical parts are activated and whisper spells “of second rateness,” pulling me into places of “shoulds” or “not good enoughs,” or “man, that’s been done a hundred times befores,” or the “why are you doing thats,” or “what difference will that painting make,” etc. Or “who’s gonna take you seriously?” When these voices are alive, or I’m tired, or not sure what I’m looking for in a painting, I can freeze. I’ve noticed flow stops when I’ve stopped trusting or “listening” to the piece I’m engaged with . . .

Stuckness can be fear masquerading as change. Perhaps, a different way of using paint is calling or it’s time to move forward into a new theme or direction. Mindless spacious activities like walking, gessoing new canvases, or journaling, or cooking good food, or taking a nap help loosen things up. When I’m really in a twist, dancing, speaking with other artists or friends, listening to inspiring music, or podcasts help.

Sometimes I put a piece away until its preciousness dissipates and fear of “making a wrong mark” leaves. After enough time has passed, I forget about what I thought “the right” direction was and can paint into areas once considered perfect. Picasso said, “if you think an area is perfect, then destroy it.” Good advice from a master.

Art making for me has always been a spiritual practice. “Stuck” is an invitation to ask “what’s up?” I find that remembering a little self compassion, permission to disengage, and a good bar of chocolate go a long way. Also remembering to relax and not take myself too seriously helps as well. Ultimately stuck and flow are both part of the creative process for sure, pushing us through our own “staleness.”

Thank you, Abbeth. Wonderful having a small window into your creative process. You know how much I cherish our friendship and your work.