As everything changes, I experience an change of 'art. My Creative Journey Through a Year of Loss and Adversity

Stormy times

Art has always been my refuge, but during this year, it became a series of push and pull moments. Whereas before, art became my lifeline, this year. there were times when it was almost becoming my nemesis. The challenges that artists now face in the changing and challenging times of social media platforms limiting our ability to connect with our audience, instead of previously enabling it, has added to the loss of this year. Yet whilst algorithms prevented my art from being seen by a large number of my followers, I still felt the pull to create, explore and expand the depth of my artwork. The irony of 'better', more evolved art emerging but seen by fewer and fewer people, created a push and pull me situation.

Do I continue to push the boundaries of what I was creating or allow the frustration and hopelessness and increasing invisibility pull me away?

I saw other artists facing their own similar social media difficulties and their feelings of hopelessness pushing them to the brink of simply walking away. Closing down their platform, shutting up shop and downing brushes, disillusioned and almost broken by the loss of a part of themselves.

It seemed that none of us knew how to turn the tide or ride the waves anymore.

I think there were a couple of differences that impacted upon me and probably for some specific reasons...cause and effect, if you like.

The first being my primary reason for creating. It was not for sales and financial gain, it was to express my innermost feelings in a less direct form than words can sometimes accommodate and in a powerful medium of art, with it's unique way of connecting to unrecognised emotions. My art was about connection and allowing, encouraging art to make a difference; to me and others.

Yet, that created a problem for me,. How could my art make a difference to others and offer me validation via visibility, if people weren't able to see it?

This is where a very strong different form of push and pull began. One about life itself. Not the meaning of life...I'll leave that to 'Brian'! No this was about the value I placed, or didn't place on my own life.

For several years now, my life has not counted for much. I no longer have any deep instinctual zest to live; that was taken away by the physical and psychological assault(s) I endured. Now, I live if I wake and if that were to end, then so be it.

This always speaks loudest to me when I'm facing a difficult path, I know that I can always just stop. That whatever the consequence, of a situation, I have an exit. It helps.

Whereas previously my art had been a lifeline, that had been cast adrift, unnecessary, unwanted and irrelevant. My art couldn't be relied upon.

So as I slowly disappear as an artist, I'm reminded of also being invisible during those traumatic years of confinement and control. Yet, I still feel that if my passion for art could continue to make a difference, then it would give me purpose and my artist life, meaning. So I carry on. I experiment, create some of my best artworks ever., feeling good and that I've achieved something worthwhile, only to face those algorithms as they continue to deplete my audience and connection.

So, I continue to disappear at the same time as finding myself, How crazy is that! The strong opposing forces that create an initial turmoil is 'swallowed' by reminding myself that I have an exit.

Experimentation with ink and sheer fabric

Seeking My Creative Journey and Visibility.

When I first encountered significant loss, I felt overwhelmed by emotions that were hard to name. Grief, confusion, and a deep sense of emptiness clouded my days. Suffering paralysing flashbacks dominated both night and day.

Somehow, I found a way to reach for my art supplies, almost instinctively.

The blank canvas wasn't intimidating, it offered a space where I could express what words could not.

My early works during this period were raw and unpolished. I used dark tones and chaotic lines to mirror the turmoil inside me. These pieces were not meant to be beautiful; they were honest. Through painting and sketching, I began to externalise my feelings, which helped me understand and accept them, mark by mark.

The Push and Pull of Loss

Loss is not a linear experience. It pulls you down, then pushes you forward, often in unpredictable ways. My art reflected this push and pull vividly. Some days, I created pieces filled with heavy shadows and fragmented shapes, representing despair and confusion. Other days, I found myself painting lighter more cohesive forms, symbolising hope and healing.

This contrast became a theme in my work. I realised that embracing both darkness and light was essential to my recovery. Instead of fighting the pain, I allowed it to coexist with moments of peace and clarity. This balance gave my art depth and authenticity.

Although my art was being received well by those that saw it, those algorithms continued to reduce my audience dramatically. I struggled, and still do, with this feeling of invisibility. I haven't a solution, yet, just as a lot of my peers. For us, it's heart-breaking. For me, it triggers a deep reaction due to experiencing people who turned their gaze away from what was happening to me during the assaults. Something I'll never understand or accept as it lay so far outside of my own moral compass.

Techniques That Helped Me Cope

• Experimentation: I knew that taking away the pressure was always a helpful technique to achieve freedom with your/my art, and so I did a lot of this and had some great results as well as a learning curve which excited and ignited my artistic fire.

• Layering: I found new ways to create layers, with paint and textiles, to show complexity, and create movement. I found that by creating movement within my art, freed me up too. That fear, freeze response had become overwhelming, fluidity and movement sent messages to my brain and emotional self, that to move was safe, was now ok. I found ways to create solidity to not only represent loss, pain and grief, but to also demonstrate strength and resilience. The softer, textile elements provided the softer healing and the ways in which I was allowing connection betwixt myself and the world.

• Mixed media: Incorporating different materials like fabric and paper added additional texture and dimension, reflecting the multifaceted nature of emotions and complexity of detail that often exists within my artwork, whether in gentle soft and quiet ways or with strong waves of resilience and survival.

• Abstract forms: Moving away from realistic depictions allowed me to focus on feelings rather than details, making the process more freeing. I found a new appreciation for the abstract and although it had always held a place within my work, it now had a stronger presence.

• Time: This was and continues to be a crucial element to managing my pain and hurt. There are ways that I already know could be used to develop my connection with my audience. They require a level of energy that was stripped from me when my Dad passed away, so soon after my Mum. I have and continue to allow myself time, time to grieve, time to feel, time to cry, time to be angry, time to complete those awful tasks that are required. I tell myself, remind myself, that I can focus on these visibility methods when my battery has been charged a little more than right now. I don't find this easy. The trauma kicks in and leads me down a path of slowly vanishing from existence, unseen, unheard. I almost need one to enable the other and vice versa... a conundrum for sure. We can't force time. It ticks away but is fluid in that we can shorten or extend its experience. I'm working on slowing the panic and extending each wave of time, to enable me to pause rather than panic, because when I panic I start to encounter those negative thoughts of failure, hopelessness.

Movement = the ability to adapt and be free

Art as a Bridge to Connection

One unexpected outcome of my creative journey was how supportive those that DID get to see my artwork were, despite those frustrating algorithms! Sharing my difficult days and my new artworks, led to open, honest conversations about loss and healing that were otherwise difficult to start. People resonated with the emotions in my pieces, and I found comfort in knowing I was not alone. I actually realised that there was a 'family' of support growing ever deeper. This support has been immeasurable to me and I hold no shame in sharing that this saved my life on several occasions. I don't think those people realise that...

I also joined art online calls for the first time. This was mixed. It highlighted my communication difficulties, which are due to the injury caused to my throat and speech. because I'm now unable to raise my voice, to project it, it was evidently difficult for others online to hear anything I wanted to share or contribute. I remember first becoming aware of this. I crumbled silently inside. Becoming increasingly silent until I didn't join these calls anymore. I realise that it was a connection that felt incredibly important to me, yet at the same time, reinforced how my life is now completely different.

I will be facing this fear again at some point in the near future. In the hope that my voice can be heard.

Until then, my artwork is my voice. So the circle connects. The algorithms endlessly limit this connection, yet it's vital for me to walk forward.

So, do I give up or do I press pause and consider the ways in which I may be able to overcome this? Those that know me best, will already know the answer to this.

I've had a couple of blows to my hope recently. I tried a couple of new methods to connect with my audience. So much preparation was involved, but I stayed with it, ever hopeful. I knew the artworks were of good standard, unique and authentic. However, when social media posts reached 3-6 people out of the thousands that follow me, it tends to crush your heart. And sales were very low.

And so I fought the urge to withdraw, questioned whether I should keep pushing against the tide. My exit sign flashing in my mind.

Personal Loss

As I still grieve over the loss of my Mum, my Dad then passed away just a few months ago. A huge blow. I hadn't realised how I hadn't really started to grieve over Mum yet, I was so focussed on making sure my Dad was okay. Now I'm faced with both bereavements. I remember their words to me...

"Don't give up adele, keep fighting, each day as it comes. That's how you win...."

But here I am, light still flashing periodically. There will be a solution, there has to be a solution, one that fits my circumstances. As I'm unable to utilise many of the low key methods used by some, one because of my new disabilities and also because my artwork is of a premium nature.

This is currently out of my control. And if something is out of your control, then hitting your ahead against an immovable object simply causes a headache! I need to rethink, research, find a way over, around or through.

Art is who I am, do I lose that and notice that flashing exit sign, or do I broaden my search. Apply my creativity to seek new ways to become visible and connect...for now, I'm choosing the latter.

A boulders size is a matter of perspective...

Growth Through Adversity

I intend to re-evaluate my methods of connection. During this period of pause, and personal change, of personal grief, I will allow art to exist with positivity within me. Then, with a recharged battery and a curious mind, I will look at ways to circumvent these frustrating algorithms and try new ways to reach my audience.

The Exit sign may continue to flash, trying to pull me towards it. But I know I've resisted thus far and that my resilience is great. So, here I will stay, allowing movement to enter my heart and mind. For curiosity to recharge my artistic self.

Now is NOT the time to forget all those moments where I fought to live, now is the time to tend to my grief, allow it to be expressed and take each day, each step at a time.

Creating art taught me patience and is teaching me self-compassion. I learned to accept that healing is not a race but a journey with ups and downs. Each brushstroke or stich is a step forward, no matter how small.

Lest I forget those big wins!

How easy for me to push away the wins and how crucial to mark them in permanence.

• I held a solo-exhibition and raised £200 for Yorkshire Air Ambulance (YAA), who saved my life....paying it forward.

• I was approached and agreed to be published in an art magazine. 10 page spread which I also sold signed copies to raise funds for YAA

• I had a book released, A Selection of Artworks, which sold well and is still available.

Available Now!

Featured Artist in north art magazine

Pay it Forward

If you're finding yourself stuck or struggling, here's a few simple art steps which may get you started...

• Play: This may sound silly, but starting from a place of play, no rules, no expectation can loosen you up and introduce joy and freedom. I start every piece of art from this initial place, it leads me into a freedom and much greater things.

  
  

• Start small: You don’t need to create a masterpiece. Even simple sketches or colour experiments can help.

  
  

• Focus on process, not product: Let go of expectations and enjoy the act of creating.

  
  

• Use symbolism: Colours, shapes, and textures can express feelings that are hard to say aloud.

  
  

• Create regularly: Consistency builds a habit that can provide ongoing support. Just 10 minutes is better than zero!

  
  

• Share when ready: Connecting with others can deepen your healing but only share if you feel comfortable.

  
  

Large and loose. Free hanging paintings on fabric

So let me finish here today, with a heartfelt message, hold on, you're doing great, you are needed and I hope you all have a...

Merry Christmas!

Whatever your beliefs, wherever you are in this world, whatever your circumstances I send warmth and hope for your future.

adele xx