Why do I make art?

Well, I don’t, but this was the heading for a list of reasons given by US sculptor Ursula von Rydingsvard in the catalogue for her wonderful 2014 exhibition at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, UK. They say a lot about how I’d like to be and about the solitude/creativity connection. Here are the ones that spoke to me, and some reflections.

To ease my high anxiety, to numb myself with the labour and the focus of building my work

This speaks to me about the value of flow, of physical activity to release nervous energy, the expression of feelngs through creative work

Objects, or the process by which I concretize my ideas, feel so good

–  the sexual/sensual dilemma of being alone – finding ways to use touch, sight – all the senses – to nourish the need for physical contact

Because there’s pleasure in it

Because there’s pain in it

– because there’s aliveness in it!

Because my deepest admiration goes to those who have made art that interests me

-making use of inspiration, of the sense of deep connection with art that speaks to me

Because I need to use both my body and my mind. The labour of my body is what keeps me awake and alive, what numbs me and offers a kind of veneer between me and the things in life that are painful to face.

This is interesting. Is numbing a good thing? Is it avoidance? Maybe sometimes it’s necessary – some things have to be taken in, faced, integrated slowly – we can only take so much pain. Certainly a healthier numbing than alcohol or food! And it’s pouring out all the energy generated by strong emotions. Makes me think that I used to be much more aware of having lots of nervous energy. Now not so much. Is it still there, waiting to be accessed and channelled?

Because the visuals – that which I perceive through my eyes – are an extraordinarily important part of my life

Yes, One of my greatest discoveries in the past few years is art – looking at great art speaks deeply to me and nourishes my soul. And more generally, trying to look at the world mindfully can transform the ordinary.

Because I don’t want to be doing anything else with my life – that the building of my artwork feels like the most consequential thing I could be doing with my time.

Because I can run into a world of making, both physically and mentally

There’s the solitary! There’s the answer to the relationships dilemma: something that fills her life, gives her total satisfaction and fulfillment.

Because I like working with a group of assistants who become another kind of family

I passed over that one at first, but perhaps there IS something for me here: how to find a communal dimension to my passions? The idea of “family” based on shared passions and creative work rather than blood.

Because I like the daily rhythm of going into my studio

NB rhythm. Two things here: having a gentle, non-driven structure- and the discipline of that, to actually get into the studio each day. Of creating enough structure to give life rhythm and coherence without getting tied down by it.

Because it’s a place to put my pain, my sadness

Because there’s a constant hope inside me that this process will heal me, my family and the world.

Because I constantly need to try to better understand the immense suffering and pain of my family that I never seem to be able to really understand.

She comes from a Polish family, displaced in World War Two, so from a background of much suffering and loss. At first I didn’t think these were relevant to me  – I’m not creating great art, I have no such traumatic history. And yet – pouring body, mind and soul into creating, touching inner depths, bringing to the surface personal wounds and pain – which will reflect in some way the history of our family backgrounds –  each of us who heals and interacts  with those around us more healthily, with more wholeness – the wider world is touched and affected by that.

Because it helps me fight my inertia.

So pleased to read this one, as someone who struggles with that draining fog of inertia, lack of energy and motivation

Because I like embroidering around my long-ago Polish fantasies

I nearly ignored this one too, as being too personal, but maybe there’s a general truth in it around using the past, using dreams, using fantasy – of playing, embellishing, transforming.

Because I can reach into the future with my work

I like the principle of this – that we can all, even if childfree, create and nurture something lasting that will touch people deeply long after the maker’s death. It may not even be a thing  – it may be our model of a way to live.

And finally:

And also because I want to get answers to questions for which I know there are no answers.


Ursula von Rydingsvard’s words from: Ursula von Rydingsvard at Yorkshire Sculpture Park. YSP, 2014.


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