Autumn on The Fens - Embracing slow living as an artist

Photo of an autumn garden with leaves on the ground in front of an ornamental pond. Trees in the background leading onto the fens.

Autumn has well and truly arrived here on The Fens. I love the misty, murky days, the smell of soil in the air as fields are cultivated, and the wonderful sight of flocks of pink footed geese flying to fields to feed on sugar beet tops. Nature is winding down for the winter rest, and it's always a pertinent reminder we need rest too.

I'm sure like many I feel a growing sense of discordance with modern life, we were never meant to be on the go 24/7. We need periods of rest and reflection, or we risk burnout, physical, and mental health issues. Computers and the internet, once something that gave us more freedom, can become shackles that bind us if we're not careful.

As an artist now, we're meant to hustle. We're supposed to have multiple income streams and be productive all the time. The act of creation, the piece of our spirit that we put into our work, is becoming secondary to creating content and constant marketing. Everything has become a product to be monetised, including ourselves and our lives. 

Speaking for myself, I too have been swept away at times doing the things I thought I was meant to, but there is a tipping point where it becomes a hindrance rather than a help. Creative feedom can become impinged by pressure to make sales, stay relevant, and grow a following.

Over the past year and a half I've made conscious effort to slow down, to create and live more mindfully. I also remember when the internet started and things were more about connecting and sharing our passions, rather than it being solely about monetisation. 

The fact is, and it's taken me a long time in my life to get here, looking around me, what I have is enough. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have my needs met and much more, and I never forget the relatively poor background I come from where we often couldn't afford what everyone else had.

Photo of a balckening waxcap mushroom

For me slow living involves:
- creating mindfully, doing projects that move me, that I connect with, rather than creating lots of things because I hope something may sell, and being productive for the sake of it.
- being a conscious consumer of art materials (and everything else!). Not hauling supplies, not buying things because they're popular and other people have them.
- taking time over art projects instead of feeling I need to rush to get them done so I can do more.
- consciously consuming media rather than mindlessly surfing or scrolling.
- enjoying and having gratitude for the little things I have in my life. Moments with my animals and the people I care about, the nature I see, and the things I enjoy.
- looking after myself and resting when I need to, so what I do is sustainable in the long term. 

photo of an ink cap mushroom

I'm constantly inspired by the landscape around me. One of my joys is finding little hidden places that few other people notice. Nature is often worlds within worlds, and the closer you look, the more you see. My art is my way of sharing my love, and my little world, with others. 

I think our society has conditioned us to want more, thinking that things are the secret to happiness. However as I've got older I realise that to be happy people need meaning, connection, and a little bit of magic in their lives. By magic I mean the possibility of something more. The magic that creative people weave in art, in books, and in films. The magic that stirs our senses and makes us feel that childhood wonder again, if only briefly. By slowing down we're more able to notice and find those magic moments, bring them into our work, and in turn pass that magic on to others. For me that is what creating is about.

Vintage style forest art journal with gouache paintings of blackening waxcap mushrooms and shaggy ink cap mushrooms, on a page collaged with vintage note paper and the words find hidden places

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