Letting Go of Predictability: Painting Fresh Strokes
Written by Bria Kastens
photos by Lyla Dietz & maddie mcmurry
Sometimes, I stare at the nearest wall. I can find myself lost in my own head, drowning in a flood of ideas. Other times, I question why my mind is so vacant, an unforgivingly blank canvas.
This is what it is like in the mind of a creative.
I find myself wanting to embrace creativity amid unrelenting to-do lists yet find myself stuck in a mental back and forth, stifling urges to try something new. The phrase “one day” always seems to be tethered to my ideas, and it seems there are more questions than answers at times.
When does “one day” become today?
When I find myself white-knuckling comfort and predictability, I know deep down my heart is pleading for creative space. In this struggle, I have always been influenced by the stories of the gung-ho creatives, the ones who grab onto the horns of life with both hands.
I am reminded of Aaron Hardin during his transition from being a professor at Union University to becoming the director of The Carnegie Center for Arts and History in downtown Jackson. After years of consistency, this transition presented him with waves of risk and uncertainty.
“Philosophically what I’m doing is very similar because my goal with teaching is to illuminate someone’s life, to take someone on a journey and to help them understand a little better about whatever that thing is. Maybe it’s photography, maybe it's art, maybe it's storytelling.”
In his new position at the Carnegie, Hardin is the jack of all trades, juggling tasks ranging from social media and content creation to physical labor. Through his efforts, his mission is to create a safe space for people to convene and explore their creative side while gleaning inspiration for future projects.
Hardin’s vision for the Carnegie has been shaped by his own experiences. He admitted to me he has found himself in unwelcoming environments, most of which have been in elitist rooms. He explained to me that art is inaccessible to many because of this atmospheric distinction, and he wants to create a space where art is accessible to all, not just certain groups of people.
“All of those things in my mind are about expanding people’s horizons,” Hardin said. “I’m on the front lines now. Before I was kind of teaching people how to do that and now, I’m practicing what I was hopefully teaching for almost a decade.”
Originally attending college to be a minister, Hardin eventually discovered his desire to be a storyteller. Storytelling can shapeshift in many different forms. After dabbling in writing and film in grad school and experimenting with painting and song writing in more recent years, Hardin keeps returning to his primary medium of photography.
Being an artist in the workplace, there is a coexisting balance between being the creator and the teacher. I asked him about finding the silver lining between creating from the heart and the pressure of being a creative as a profession.
“I think the thing that I have embraced is don’t tell yourself “No” when it comes to being creative and trying something. It doesn’t mean that you wanna share it with people, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying it.”
I pointed out how the value of creation is often in the process and not always the end product. When I find myself focused on the result, I often miss the opportunity to notice the path I’m even traversing. Following a pace that allows for questions and lostness creates room for questions that may be asked otherwise.
Hardin pointed out the difference between having a production industry mindset and learning to truly lean into the rest and the emptiness. These spaces are often uncomfortable and unpredictable, but they might be the very breeding grounds for the most meaningful results later.
“I think if we want to consider the broad, complex, nuanced realities of humanity, there are things that we can’t quite describe with words sometimes and there’s things that we will never understand. And we’re such small beings that experiencing good art helps us see the bigger world and helps us connect with other people. Good art has the opportunity to remind us how big and connected everything can be,” Hardin said.
“I think that’s a special thing, especially in America where a lot of value is placed on how much money you make and how good your job is. It’s a very utilitarian look at human life and human value. There’s a dollar amount prescribed to your life and what you can produce, and I think that good art is an invitation for us to remind ourselves of value of our own lives and other people’s lives and that doesn’t have a dollar amount attached to it; it’s not a utility thing.”
Hardin expressed how an artist’s purpose is to gaze at the world and translate it into something receptive that others can ponder; in a way, artists are translators of reality.
“I think I get inspiration from being in awe of things,” Hardin said. “Never disregard your ability to be innocent enough to be in awe. Being in awe is a gift.”
This requires being open in a brutal, unforgiving world.
“If anything, what I’ve found on the journey is that you have to find a way to make it work and the way you find it is not always the traditional ways,” Hardin said.
This reminded me of a similar conversation I had with Samantha Wood, a full-time artist local to Jackson. Deciding to leave her position as an art teacher in the public school system after fifteen years, Wood chose to pursue art full time on her own.
I asked her how her current artistic pursuits became her livelihood, and she laughed, sharing how she planned to teach her whole life until her husband had an injury that opened her eyes to a “now or never” approach to life.
“It just kind of felt like my life was closing in on me, and I realized I was angry with myself for never trying to do what I really wanted or being brave enough to do that,” Wood said. “It was weird because I didn’t even really realize I was mad at myself, but as soon as I was kind of put in a different situation to where what I wanted might not be an option, it made me realize how much I really wanted it.”
She laughed and told me how she always heard about those “starving artists” without really understanding until she dove headfirst into entrepreneurship herself. So, I asked her about one of her commission pieces that featured a pink dumpster.
“I go for walks in my neighborhood all the time and there was a pink dumpster. It just made me happy that it was pink and bright and that it wasn’t the norm, and then I thought, ‘If I could find anything in a dumpster what would it be?
Wood told me how the items in the pink dumpster symbolize the things she had in her house as a child, clinging to a sense of nostalgia in a world that churns onward by advancement and newness.
Her eyes danced around the room as she processed her thoughts before sharing them with me. Like Hardin, Wood has also encountered quiet periods in terms of creativity, but also in selling her commission pieces.
“I’ve learned that you go through quiet periods where nothing sells for you know an extended period, and it’s really hard in those quiet times not to start questioning yourself,” Wood said. “But I also say it’s in proportion to the happiness I feel when things do go my way.”
Through these periods, Wood has found strategies to keep moving forward and pay the bills despite the silence. Wood likes to think of ways she can provide for others in the immediate sense, whether it be through offering private lessons, selling merch, leading classes, or creating mini art pieces for small gifts.
“I think every artist ideally wants to just be able to do their own thing all the time, but I think part of being an artist is applying your creativity to the business side of things too. It’s not just being an artist; it’s also deciding how am I going to make this job work for me?”
Part of being a creative is often skipping to an off-kilter beat, but balance is a vital element in the life of a creative; there are strategic elements with bursts of freedom wedged in between.
No matter the medium of creative expression, making connections and stewarding others is always a key element. Ebonee Woodland, band director at Northside High School in Jackson, spoke to me about this recently, explaining the nuts and bolts behind steering the wheel of drive and passion.
She laughed and told me, “If this is something you’re passionate about, you will make it work.”
Woodland’s main aspirations in teaching band are like Wood and Hardin; the ultimate goal is to convey, equip, and inspire through messages of different mediums that words cannot always express.
“What really sold me to become a band director was when I had opportunities to teach at my middle school when I was in high school helping with some beginner trombone players. You can never stop learning. The moment you stop learning is the moment I think as a teacher, you stop serving your students as well, so that's why I feel like I should always be a forever student,” Woodland said.
The underbelly of teaching is an act of service, but at the same time, being a student again invites new approaches to the same practices of creation and teaching. There is not a one size fits all, which really makes the learning experience so valuable.
“That’s always been one of my philosophies: to have well rounded students,” Woodland said.
“Truly the most exciting thing in my career is the students I have and the moment that lightbulb goes off the moment where students are like, ‘Oh my goodness I really love music!”
Woodland aspires to regrow the music program both in number and skill level at North Side high school over the next few years. She has already created a lasting impact; for her it is not all about instruction, it is also about active engagement.
“I see so many kids who have let music become their outlet, and if I can continue providing that outlet for students through music that will always be my why.”
Woodland’s artistry shines through her dedication in equipping future musicians, teachers, and performers. Being a creative often means bestowing skillsets to others through different means, whether through workshops, cultivating inspirational spaces, selling paintings, or entering a directive position. That is the beautiful nature of creativity; it is more than just picking up a paintbrush.
I found a smile on my face as I left each of these conversations, feeling like something in me was illuminated by the bravery of entrepreneurship. Success is not a clear cut, one size fits all path; it is ambiguous and ever-changing.
Clinging to comfortability might allow for certain levels of security, but the steps necessary to make “one day” a reality often bring us to the end of ourselves and ask more than we can handle at times. As T.S. Eliot wrote in Four Quartets, this uncertainty can lead to unsuspected destinations.
“Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.”