Some time ago I read that tweet from my fellow animation and illustration artist, Juliana Cuervo who currently lives in Argentinia:

Another one from 2010…is very weird the see how your work evolves in the past years. fb.me/209O6Yxyw
— @JulianaisJuliet (March 21, 2013)

It is.
This thought still stuck with me when I discovered Portland based pattern designer, artist and author Jessica Swift who shares some old works of hers in a series called Time Machine on her blog.

Very often I think that I don’t work enough, but every time I review old portfolios, I feel astonished of what I’d created over the years… (Actually I work a lot. But I often think it’s never going to be enough.)

I’m constantly re-adjusting the way I work, and I recently learned that I’d definitely need more time and space for reviewing and processing the things I do. Ah, the understanding! For this reason I’m going to establish a time machine tag myself… I love the idea!

Time-Machining

I travel back to the very first animation I did back in 2005 today. I was doing an A/V course at my uni when the instructor said, “… and this is how you make animations.” I got hooked. I wanted to try this immediately, but I hadn’t had any equipment or much technical know-how. All I knew was I have to move things frame per frame.

I scanned an illustration I made earlier that year, and moved the layer frame per frame in gimp. After every move I saved and numbered the images to import them in the right order into my video editing software afterwards. Pretty simple setup. I still like the idea of keeping things simple and showing little stories or episodes at the same time. The drawing was perfect because it already had this inherent story of a fish with a ball who wants to play with a sad girl.

When I had a closer look at the image I found a few things that I still see in my current work: a love for absurd situations, and using stamps and watercolors to achieve a layered look.

Back in 2005 I chose a copyrighted track to the music since the animation has been a digital christmas present for a good friend. Since I wanted to share it with you now, I decided to use another track by the awesome Ergo Phizmiz who gently allowed me to use his music. I also edited the titles, but the animation remained mainly the same. I made a few timing adjustments here and there to fit it to the music, but I think you’ll get the idea. Ergos music adds a nice dose of strange to the sweet, weird atmosphere of the tiny story.

I love animation, I love every aspect of it and I never get tired of pushing things around under an actual or virtual camera… The tiny bit of editing reminded me how easy it is to get started again.

Mmmmh, animation!

Keep animating, folks!
Love,
Jessica

The other day I read a blog post by my dear fellow artist Jessica Serran who wrote about Resistance (yes, capital R).
Most artists I’ve met know this feeling well and I’m no exception. I meet Resistance every time I start to work, and for a long time I just tried to push it away to get at least some work done. I also tried to acknowledge Resistance to make it go away, to talk to it and to learn from it. Those approaches didn’t work: Resistance does not simply go away.

When I read the article the other Jessica wrote, those lines really caught my interest:

I was thinking about it again this morning on my walk to the studio. And remembering how Matthew Barney uses the concept of resistance. As a former jock and student of biology he understands that in order to build new muscle, we have to tear the ones that are there. And that in order to tear our muscles, we need, drum roll please…

Resistance.

Every body builder knows this. You go to the gym. You lift something really heavy. Your muscles tear, and then you get stronger. That’s just how it works.

And then you return and do it all over again a few days later.

This concept is an entirely new point of view to me: I don’t have to get rid of Resistance. I don’t need to get rid of Resistance because it is part of the process. Furthermore, it makes me stronger. The next step is to find a way to work with it.

I like the sports analogy.

I started to think about Resistance in a sporty approach.
I talked to the hubby about this since he regularly exercises in the gym. He said, in order to grow your muscles, you better try to tear your muscles without overstraining them. If you stress them to much, you’ll only hurt yourself. His point is, that we need to find a balance between gently stretching our boundaries and keeping ourselves sane and healthy.

I wanted to do any kind of sports for years, and occasionally started jogging or cycling or so. But I only did it once or twice and then stopped doing it for months. Even though I always felt better afterwards, it somehow was to difficult to keep on doing it and I got angry with myself and disappointed all the time.

The problem was that I didn’t like the types of sport I was doing.
A year and a half ago I started taking ballet classes. This is a thing I always wanted but I had an image of myself as a rather non-ballet type of girl. Out of desperation I just wanted to give it a try. – When I started, everything changed. I love to be in the dance studio, and I’m kind of really pissed off when I have to cancel a class due to something else. I now have a barre at home and exercise regularly and voluntarily and enjoy most aspects of the learning process.

It’s the same with yoga. I started taking yoga classes last autumn, and I so much look forward to every class because I can see how the sports change the way I move and think about myself.

Back to the arts.

I had a returning thought over the last days:
I always knew that I am a person who loves to move and to sport around. At the same time I presumed that I must be wrong about this since no kind of sports seems to be attractive enough to keep me going with it. Then I started ballet and yoga, and I just loved it. I could do it all the time. Aha! The knowing was right, the assumption was wrong. What if that’s true for the arts, too?

I always knew that I am meant to be an artist. At the same time I presumed that I must be wrong about this since no kind of art seems to be attractive enough to keep me going with it. What if the knowing is right and the assumption is wrong, too? I’m tired of struggling with the arts as I’ve been struggling with the sports before (I do it a lot). I now know that I just have to find my art form to make my peace with that Resistance. I don’t have a solution yet. Yet I know I will.

What about you? Where do you feel Resistance, how do you meet it or work with it? Share your thoughts in the comments, lift some weights with me!

Much love to you,
Jessica

Jessica Serran is not only an amazing artist and psycho-cartographer, she also runs a crowdfunding campaign for her beautiful art project, Field Guide to the Czech Psyche. Jessica is exploring “the pieces of life that make us who we are. It is an investigation into the threads that matter and the things that stick”, and you should go and support it. – I already did!

Dear friends,
The sun is shining for the first time in weeks and I’m so grateful for this. I can’t get enough sun beams after that long and dark winter. (Who could?)

It’s Easter Sunday today. Easter, the Holi fest or most of the other spring festivals exist to celebrate the transformation of a calm and introverted season into something awakening, lively and new. – I love that since this is what happens in my life right now.

Old believes slowly fade away, and turn into something stronger and more beautiful, and everything is growing and much more resonating than anything before.

Celebrate with me, guys!
– I send you much love!
Jess

The more I think about it, the more I understand that for me, art and life couldn’t be separated.

The way I live, I eat, sleep, meet people is the same way I want to make art: I love to laugh, to be curious, to constantly learn new things and to spend time with people who care.

For years I had the feeling that something isn’t just right: I’ve been regularly stuck. Making art sometimes even hurts me physically. I often have to do a lot of internal work before I’d start the actual work. – Even though that I know this one thing in my life for sure: I am an artist, and I don’t want to be anything else in the world. Period.

For years I’ve tried to fix myself from outside with helpful tricks and techniques. It has always been only helpful for a short moment, but haven’t lasted until the other day. – And I’m sooo tired of this.

These are qualities that I wish to meet when I work

• Ease. Just doing things without worrying too much about the outcome.
• Playfulness. Giving myself permission to experiment and to invite mistakes.
• Freedom. Detaching myself from what others may think about my work.
• Safety. Knowing that I’ll be fine and that I don’t have to do things that I don’t want to do.
• Trust. Following my instincts and my needs.
• Beauty. When I say beauty, I really mean quirkiness. Because I think it’s beautiful.
• To feel home. Like knowing, “This is my place. This is where I belong.”

Except for rare occasions, I’ve had none of those.

I now want to try a different approach.

What if I’d invite those qualities into my every-day life first?

We bought our house three years ago and due to life that happens, we didn’t manage to make ourselves feel home in all rooms. Our kitchen is lovely. But the rest? Our living room has been crowded with stuff for months, our bedroom isn’t as cosy as I want it to be (except for my sewing table) and my studio still isn’t my favorite place to work. The garden is a mess. I don’t really like this situation.

My idea is this: How can I have those qualities listed above in my work when I am not applying them to my daily life? If I’d be able to invite them into my life, perhaps this will change my work as well.

That’s why I started to refurbish the living room today. A lot of the stuff is gone already, and I want to paint the walls in a sunny yellow and the wooden panes in bright white. Right now there are several shades of white on the panels due to careless former refurbishing. I’m removing the several layers of paint and wallpapers from the walls right now. We live in an old house, and we just painted the walls white when we moved in because we didn’t want to do this work then.

It’s taking a lot of time. But when I was scraping the several layers I had an epiphany: I took a step back to have a look at the half-finished wall, and I realized that my life is like the wall! I am like this wall: So many layers of other people’s wants and needs that I cover myself with. You can’t see the true essence since there are so many layers. But if I remove the layers, I’ll find a strong and beautiful core beneath. It has a few minor and major injuries, but I’m going to repair them with patience and love. With every inch that is dis-covered, I bring the qualities in that I’d wish to be here. Yes, I’m talking about the walls, and I’m talking about myself at the same time. So it’s probably a metaphor though.

My gift to myself: taking all the time it needs, and to bring ease, playfulness, freedom, safety, trust, beauty and feeling home back to my daily life. Babysteps!

Do you ever had a similar insight? I’d love to hear it, especially if this approach did work for you.
Hugs!
– Jessica

Even though I always considered myself as a drawing artist, I recently found out that I actually hate to draw. There, I said it.

Ever since I remember I’ve been admiring people who draw out loud, and I wanted to learn how to produce images from my imagination onto paper, too, wanting to be as cool as them. So I practiced. I practiced a lot, and I’ve been drawing for years. And now I’m able to translate my ideas through a pen into a drawing rather well.

Yet it has never been easy and it’s never been fun. Whenever I take a pen into my hand and just want to draw for a drawing’s sake, I just can’t. The harder I force myself, the faster my inner canvas goes blank. Even doodling is annoyingly un-relaxing.

I strongly believe that each problem has a solution though. Over the years I was able to collect quite a few techniques to overcome that stuckness. Want to know?

• Try to draw with your non-drawing hand.
  If your right-handed, use the left hand and if you draw with your left, use the right one.
• Draw without looking at your sheet of paper, and let your eyes just follow the outlines of your model (whatever it is).
• Change your point of view. Get a really weird perspective or turn your model upside-down, if possible.
• Speed up. Draw faster. The faster you work, the less will your inner critic be able keep your pace and eventually shut up.
• Work on as many sheets as possible at the same time.
• Use a pen you can’t erase. Use your mistakes.
• Try all of these techniques at once: Draw with your other hand without looking at your canvas while taking a handstand or so. (Seriously, don’t try this at home…) But you’ll get the point.

The idea behind all these techniques is to get things messy and playful, because play is the opposite of fear, and mostly it’s fear that keep us from doing what we really want, in this case drawing. At least I thought so.

A few weeks ago I went to a drawing class once more because I thought more practice is always good, and I’m still able to produce images that somehow look acceptable, but it was rather exhausting though. So many doubts, so little ease and fun. – Even though I applied all the mentioned techniques. Huh?

Then, over the last weeks, I’ve been working on a series of drawing like those I did in September and November, too, but even though I tried all the techniques above, I wasn’t able to produce anything I like. The harder I tried, the more painful it got.

Ah, sweet resistance! We’ve met before. 

I surrendered. Fighting resistance makes it even stronger. Believe me, I’ve been there. I accepted that I was stuck and the pain that comes with it without questioning it. Instead I asked myself, what I’d need right now. I needed something comforting and reassuring. Something that I really like. I stopped drawing. I got the portfolio with my collection of wannabe drawings and started to make cut-outs from them. Those cut-outs instantly created images in my head, and my hands translated them into a collage. It was easy, comforting and fun. Plus, I like the piece (click to enlarge):

Jessica Koppe: choose
mixed-media collage, 21 x 21 cm, 2013

Over the last days I more and more understood that I don’t have to draw if I don’t want to. I now see that the techniques above didn’t work because I just don’t want to draw. Luckily, there is no need to force myself anymore. There are plenty of ways to create an image.

Don’t get me wrong, I love lines and a line is an essential element of drawings, shapes and patterns. Lines are a basic element of a lot of things that I create. But I have to draw a line here. (Sorry. Pun intended.)

You might try the mentioned techniques for yourself if perfectionism hits you. They won’t work in resistance mode. If you know similar situations, I hope that sharing my process will help you, too. If you want to share your experiences, please leave a comment. You’re not alone. Thanks for being here!

Love,
Jess

You guys,
This is a season of growth and development. After this stunning second half of 2012 of exhibitions and events, I still have a massive hangover though.

I may often seem to be tough and straightforward when it comes to my career in the arts but truth is, I often feel insecure and helpless, and I often not really have a clue on how to approach things The Right Way™. It’s a lot of trial, and even more error.

My hangover feels like this: a tiny, mean voice in my head telling me after a rather successful series of events, “That’s it. There won’t be any more successes.” And this tiny, mean voice causes me physical pain when I start to work on another idea. “See, I told you, you cannot even start. How will you ever finish?” It’s a slow and exhausting process – I don’t really get into the work right now. But I start again. Each effing day.

I know that I wanted to be an artist since I’ve been three or four years old, but it has never been easy: I remember a situation when I wanted to draw something when I was in third grade or so. I really wanted to make that drawing and at the same time I knew that it won’t be good and that the experience of creating something wasn’t as pleasant as I wished it to be. Why was I even trying? Those thoughts, at that early age already! These feelings never vanished except for very rare occasions.

Anyway, I’ve been taking yoga classes for six months now, too, and they taught me a most important lesson: Even though we all have limitations, it’s still possible to grow and to stretch in a mindful, loving and observent way.
“Oh, hi limitation! I see you and I acknowledge your existence.”
Breathing into the challenging parts allow me to gently expand my muscles and psychological boundaries. Though it doesn’t help me to dive into the work with full speed again immediately.

Stretch and breathe. Rest. Repeat.

It allows me to calm down and to accept the time as it is. I try to remember this every day. It’s hard, but it’s my way. I’m also working on a series of mixed-media paintings again. I really try not to force any artworks, but I work every day and even if it’s only for five minutes.

The header image shows the current state of the art. Sorry for the pun.

The good thing about being a creative multitalent: if the creative juices don’t flow in one domain, I trade ambition for play and suddenly there are plenty of other things to discover besides the rut. So I may not be able to create things that look like art right now, but this week I rearranged my sewing table and started to sew again. Win!

This is my new sewing corner there, on the right. It’s tiny, but beautiful!

After all those unhappy years of pushing myself through projects I don’t really wanted, I now allow myself to simply enjoy the creative process however I want to. If it doesn’t work here, I’ll go over there. – Gosh, it’s awesome! Giving myself some space, literally and practically, helps me to regain trust in my creative powers. I know that I’m an artist. I didn’t choose to be one, life chose me to be. I only follow. In my new hand-sewn house slippers. Ha!

Wishing the same sweet healing for you, too!
- Jess

From time to time I rewrite my artist statement. As much as I hate to put what I do in less than 300 words, it helps me clarifying what I want. In those moments I spend a lot of time to think about what’s important for me and my art. I reflect on why I do things and how and what’s the purpose of all behind this. Spoiler: I’ll never get an answer that is still true twelve months from now. People change.
[They transform!]

Anyway. Today I was thinking about why so many people don’t like the idea of making art as a form of therapy. Do you think so, too? Why is it so difficult to find it okay that art may not only exist for art’s sake but also for the well-being of the artist?

I met so many different type of artists so far, and they all have different concepts, ideas and explanations why they do art. I can’t speak for them all, but today I learned or remembered why I work in the arts.

For me, art isn’t primarily therapeutical, but this is certainly one of its many aspects.
The process itself of making and creating things can be very therapeutical, of course. But what does therapeutical mean? I’d need therapy if I’m somewhat dysfunctional (whatever that means and whoever defines that). A therapy is nothing but a transformation, from one (unwanted) status into a (wanted) other. At least artists may agree that art is transformational?

An artist creates an animation, she learns something during this process, solved some problems and is much wiser afterwards since she reflected her process, too. A viewer see one of her installations, and he said, “this was really touching! It reminds me of my gran to whom I haven’t spoken in weeks after our last fight. I’m going to visit her today!” Random examples, I know. But! Somehow the art transformed a situation or a person, and may the change be as tiny as a pea.

My process in a nut shell:

Make/Create. Reflect. Show. Start again.

It’s about improvement.
I’m also fascinated by philosophy. I’m fascinated be the concept of turning the world into a better place just by reflecting my actions and discussing them with other people. And to adjust my actions if this is necessary to suit my ideas of a perfect world. And sometimes to adjust my image of a perfect world.

It’s about humanity. I want to grow through the things I make and do, I want to gather experience and to learn things about myself and the world that I haven’t seen yet. It’s about the joy of discovery and adventure, at least for me.

What’s your approach? Why is art important to your work/life? I’d love to read about it in the comments. Your chance of starting a philosophical debate! Go on!

I send you much love!
– Jess

You guys, it’s been a while.

And now everything looks different. Which is totally cool. From time to time (about every two years) I’ll get the urgent wish to redesign my websites, and this is what it’s now. This time it’s been intense. I learned a lot about myself again over the last twelve months, and most parts now just fell into place, and so did the website. For almost since I’ve started studying art, I felt not right the way I was. This sometimes is still an issue, but it has also changed: acceptance is key!

In art school, I had some ugly encounters over the years. Just to give you an impression:

• When I showed my works to a professor at an art school I back then wanted to apply for, he said, “With this fantasy crap of yours you’ll never get in here.” It was the first time I’ve ever showed my works to a professional at a uni.
• I was drawing intensely for two years in a row to reach a level of skill that would be good enough to enter art school. I drew every day, and increased the quality of drawing immensely by the help of an artist who is still a fried of mine today. When I got in, and showed my drawings to my first-year instructor for the first time, he simply asked, “Gosh, have you ever learned to draw?”
• After passing the intermediate exam at art school, one of the examiners told me: “We’ve been discussing if you’d be going to pass the exam and your works extensively, you’ve made it just barely.” He just wanted me to know that.

All these moments taught me that I got something fundamentally wrong about art, because nobody in art school seemed to like or understand what I do. Over the next years, I try to understand what I’ve obviously been doing wrong, but I just didn’t get it. Because I didn’t understand the art school circus, I got no scholarships, no prizes. And after a while I was only working secretly without ever showing anyone what I do.

animation saved me

The moment I started to make animated bits, I came to believe that this is something cool but it couldn’t be art. It couldn’t be art since I chose it, and nothing that I chose to do was recognized as art so far. But then I discovered that I’d do it anyway, no matter what the circumstances are. Plus, things got less tough the moment I started working in animation. I also got a travel grant to study animation at an art school in Vienna. How cool is that?

I recently was asked if I could live from my art, and I gave a really smart answer:

I do not do it because I can make a living of this. – I do it even though I put more money in than I get out.

I was asked by a journalist who thought what I do was interesting enough to report about.

I’d do what I do even if my work may not support my living. I’d do what I do even if nobody would care. What I do is the best contribution I could ever make to society. And the moment I decided I’m okay with what I do, the rest of the world just said, “Okay!” I found galleries who wanted to show my work, I sold artworks, got a job at a uni (and take good care on my students there) and people paid me for talking about my work. Interesting, huh?

Why I tell you all this stuff? Because I have a new website. And art and animation and words are not longer separated: they’re all different aspects of what I do. – Finding and developing images that move. My old animation blog won’t be updated anymore, you’ll find everything here now.

I finally feel home. This is my place, and I’m glad you’re here.

Internet hugs and much love!
Jessica

PS If you need support for what you do, and there’s nobody to make you a hot chocolate, just watch this Video of Neil Gaiman addressing the University of the Arts Class of 2012. It’s encouraging and rescued me several times last year.