CLOSING AND OPENING
Since mid-October 2023, we’ve been navigating an overwhelming amount of details required to a) sell our New York apartment and b) secure a commercial space in which to relocate Joel’s studio which had been housed in part of that apartment. Because we now live in London, the time difference meant that for the last few weeks frantic calls and emails where whizzing back and forth until 11 at night, almost every day.
It strikes me as ironically interesting that the path to simplifying life is anything but simple and reminds of the saying: You have to close one door before another can open…and it’s hell in the hallway.
Apart from, or alongside of, all the logistics involved in such a big transition there is also the emotional journey. Joel had to find the courage to let go of an apartment that he’d had for 60 years. Yet while he still maintains a connection to NY via his studio, for me it felt like ending a 50 year connection to America; a connection which I had been yearning to break for a long time.
When we let go of something that has been gnawing at us for some time, whether it be a relationship, a job, or a place, there is at first a feeling of relief. But there is also the realisation that whatever that thing was that we were holding on to also provided us with an excuse as to why we couldn’t do something we kept saying we wanted to do….if only.
Suddenly, in the letting go, the excuse is removed and it can be painful to accept that the ensuing freedom brings us face to face with ourselves in the place where self-doubt has always stopped us from doing that ‘thing’. About a month before the closing something shifted in me. Perhaps because I’ve let go of so many things in life those experiences now provide me with a sort of foreknowledge. And so it was that I started planning to hold an Open Studio, here in London, the day after the closing.
Before I broke my neck 33 years ago, I was a visual artist regularly showing and selling my work. After the injury, permanent damage made it impossible for me to hold my arms in a raised position. As a result, working on large canvases was no longer an option. So, I became a writer. About 5 years ago, when yet another novel failed to find a publisher, I found myself returning to visual art, never contemplating showing or selling it.
Since moving to London I’ve created several different bodies of work which I kept saying I wanted to exhibit but….well, we had to get Joel legal residency here, had to make new wills, had to sell the NY apartment, had to find a studio for Joel, had to, had to, had to. As the closing drew close, fear rose up in me that I soon would have no excuses left for not fulfilling my creative life. Fear can either paralize us or motivate us. Our choice.
The sale of the apartment closed on 2nd of February. On 3rd February I held my first Open Studio. I chose to exhibit some 40 odd small vessel drawings which I had made 2 years after breaking my neck. Drawings that had remained hidden away for all those years. I sold several pieces and took a bunch of print orders. And, on a last-minute impulse I put out 20 copies of 2 of my novels…and they all sold!
The beauty of a vessel is its capacity to empty and fill itself. Yet even when it is empty it is filled with air. We too have this capacity.; to empty ourselves of that which no longer serves us and to fulfil ourselves anew. And instead of fearing the emptiness perhaps we could choose to breathe in its spaciousness.
I will be holding more Open Studios this year, so stop by if you find yourself in London. I will also be opening a shop on my website: www.maggiebarrett.com and making work available on Instagram @maggiebarrettsideas I’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime, consider what you might let go of in order to make space for something you’ve been wanting to do.
With love
Maggie
