Grand Closing

Back in 2021, you were practising your artistry in a recognizably conventional way: making art that was highly personal but also available for purchase through an independent online shop. Over the last year and a half, you’ve opted to ditch the commercial aspect of this artistry and instead make art mostly to share it online in a way that feels very early-internet and organic. What were some of the catalyzing realizations that resulted in this pivot? 

QR ─ I was very lucky to have so much support for my online shop and commissions over the years, but after the pandemic it was obvious something in the algorithm had shifted away from me. It became clear that simply sharing my art online didn’t ensure people saw it. For about six months I continued pushing to create and share online to promote my online business but I caught myself conflating self worth with engagement, and that’s a dangerous game when it comes to creating art.

Deciding to close my shop was difficult; but I couldn’t be happier. I got a job in a field completely outside of the focus of my MFA. This allowed me to preserve my creative energy and put it toward exploring new mediums. Without the pressure of creating, sharing, and ultimately selling, I’m able to have more freedom to make things just for the sake of making them and it feels great.

Grand Opening

Do you feel “more like an artist” now than before closing up your shop?

QR ─ I would love to confidently say that being an artist is an innate, self-imposed label, but I admit that having a job outside of one’s practice and sharing less of one’s works online can challenge that identity. 

I am not myself if I am not making something, and I think that will always be the case. This interview request came at something of a precipice for me, as I just left the aforementioned job to pursue the arts again. I don’t know what form that will take but my time away from the creative industries has pushed me gently back into them. In many conversations I have with other artists and creatives, it feels harder than ever to get by solely on making art, so I’m curious what comes next.

Could there be a sustainable way for artists to maintain the best of both worlds: maintaining artistic integrity while also running a small business on the basis of this artistry? 

QR ─ I’ve dedicated the next three months to figuring this out. I don’t have the answers yet, but my goal is to speak to as many people as I can who seem to have balanced artistic creation with viable business. I’m very interested in exploring more traditional skills and artforms such as upholstery and quilting. As someone who used to exclusively draw and paint, I’ve been loving the time-intensive and tactile nature of creating quilts. It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever taught myself how to do. 

My hope is — as we become increasingly aware of automation and mass production and its immense impact on the world around us — there will be a shift toward a greater appreciation of handmade and deliberate works of art. Reenvisioning my work through the lens of quilting has taught me to slow down and really sit with what I’m making and perpetually ask myself why it is I’m making it. 

For Your Eyes Only

In Issue 6, you said, “When I first started talking online, no one was talking about how healing isn’t linear, no one was even talking about experiencing trauma. Now I hope we have become more sensitive about the ways we talk about these things online.” A lot has changed in the last few years in regards to internet culture, do you think that sensitivity towards trauma has evolved or devolved? 

QR ─ I’m not sure if it’s a result of gradual healing, or my relationship to the social media landscape, which has changed so much since my practice began, but I don’t work through things as publicly online as I once did. Similar to the ways in which quilting has slowed me down and allowed more time for me to process; I am more interested in creating works that articulate how I am feeling versus publicly and impulsively sharing those thoughts online. Ultimately, most of my work comes from an idea or phrase that I’m working through that seems too scary to say out loud. I’ve found those are the words that others need to hear the most. There’s still so much to be mad about as a feminist artist, but I now play it closer to my chest, until I’m ready. 

Again In Issue 26 

Looking forward to the next 3 years, what are you most hopeful for regarding your evolution as an artist? What are you doing now that you hope will build a stronger sense of community in the near future?

QR ─ If I conclude that the best way to continue to create work is not through my career (aka how I make money) but rather through finding a path that supports creation outside of my job, I think I’ll feel ok about that.  I will always be making something, working through something, finding a way to share how I feel, I hope that never goes away and I don’t think it will. I find community in conversations with friends, in working through hard things, in trying to understand how we stay afloat in this world, in small admissions of struggle and validation in our collective exhaustion. Today, these conversations sometimes meander into the social media space and sometimes they stay between friends and drift into my studio practice. As I enter a new phase of my life of trying to become a mother, I am confident that will expose a whole new catalogue of fears, uncertainty, joys and growth that will undoubtedly find their way into whatever it is I make next.