On The Art of Practice

A new year, a new project

I’ve been thinking about a project like this for the last 3 years but where I’ve landed looks different than what I originally imagined. Pivoting is the sometimes-surprising gift of time, space and rest—and healing. While this new project bares elements of my original idea, I love this one a thousand times more, and part of what I love—wait for it—is that it will take so much time to complete—52 weeks, to be exact.

I can assure you that before this moment I have never ever said that I loved when a project happened slowly.

But I am a new person. Today is a new day. This is a new year. This very moment is new. And this one—and this one—and—you see what I am saying? So many opportunities to do something new.

(Warning: I’m going to use the word “new” a lot in this post and I shall not apologize for this renewed energy around my creative practices. Energy like this is contagious, stick around, it might rub off on you. You’re welcome. I love you.)

If you’ve been a reader for some time, you already know that the last handful of years I dubbed “the locust years”. Without rehashing all the things, it’s fair to say that there is nary a facet of my life that my struggles did not touch. Everything from my health to relationships, to my creativity, to my faith has been shaken up, poured out and tested in some very uncomfortable refining fires.

Even So!! Without any evidence to truly demonstrate why I feel that 2024 will be starkly different, I feel the newness of this season in my bones, and I am hear for it.

I am firmly planted in my middle years and the middle years are magic—I am going to skip over the groans of aching body parts, digestive systems that revolt and make you stop eating your favorite foods, and the thinning of the hairs and the graying of the beards, and the loss of hearing, and the general disconnect from what is passing now as pop culture—and focus on the joy that is waiting for us when we have no more damns to give¹ . When we are finally free of fear about how others have decided it’s appropriate for us to show up. I’m talking about the season of life when you can use as many exclamation points as you want, and continue to use punctuation in texts to your children because it’s the right thing to do, and be unbothered that they misuse the word, “aggressive” when referring to said use of punctuation. I’m talking about when you are so settled in your God-given identity as a maker (or insert your own vocation), that you will do your thing and let yourself feel His joy over you, and in you.

What I’m talking about friends is freedom. The gift of being your whole self at the risk of being misunderstood and being perceived as too much. I’m talking about wearing sequins to the grocery store. I’m talking about making the art you want to make regardless of what the metrics/critics/gatekeepers have to say about it. After a very long season of recovering from my people-pleasing ways, I am basking in a new-found freedom and it’s inspiring me to create again.

“Practice” Card #1 of 52. Mixed media, original by Kris Camealy

What comes with this freedom is a renewing of creative energy, an invitation to make whatever you want because it will be fun to do the thing, and it isn’t about how well the art will market or whether anyone will get it, or even like it².

I think one of the worst things we can do as artists is make for the market. I’m not talking about selling your art. I’m talking about making purely for the purpose of the sale. I saw a short video on Instagram the other day where Rick Rubin said,

Something I say in the book is that I believe that the audience comes last, and I believe that. I’m not making it for them. I’m making it for me and it turns out that when you make something truly for yourself you’re doing the best thing that you possibly can for the audience. So much of why if you go to the movies, so many big movies are just not good, it’s because they’re not being made by a person who cares about it, they’re being made by people who are trying to make something that they think someone else is going to like and that’s not how art works. Art doesn’t—that’s something else—it’s not art. Thats commerce. So if we're making art we’re making—it’s almost like a diary entry…Could I be concerned that someone else might not like my diary entry? Doesn’t make sense. You know, it has nothing to do with them. My diary entry has nothing to do with anyone else. So everything we make as artists are essentially diary entries.

I love this perspective because art made purely for the market has no heart. It has no soul, and what we need more of is heart. We need artists and writers who create from a place of love and care about the flesh-and-blood-people who will be engaging with their art.

This first card is simply called, “Practice” because it is the beginning of a new practice for me. I have never done anything like this before, and so it will be a new thing requiring new rhythms. Rhythms are not formed by doing something once—they are born out of practice, and so, this is where I begin.

The Art of Practice

The project I’m gifting myself with for 2024 is my “Artist’s Deck.” Over the next year, I will create one card a week, and by the end of 2024, I will have 52 handmade cards reflecting what art is in me at the time of creation. This deck will be personal, it will be unique, and it will be beautiful—not because I am a great artist—but because it will represent surrender and sacrifice and discipline. It will be lovely because each card will reflect a few moments captured over the course of a year.

These cards are a bit like what Rubin described as, a look into my diary. My intention is to show you each card, as well as share a little about each one. I hope to share one a week, but it might be more like every couple of weeks depending on my schedule. I’ve made today’s post accessibly to everyone, but going forward The Art of Practice will be accessible only for paid subscribers*, and will land in your inbox every time I share a new card.

[*Sharing one’s art is a vulnerable practice. This is the reason for creating a “door” to this sacred room, by offering this vulnerability within this specific confine. If you are not a paid subscriber, and want to be, but cannot afford the subscription, simply email me: kris@refineretreat.com, and I will add you to the paid list, no questions asked.]

“Practice” Card #1, Mixed media on standard playing card, by Kris Camealy

1. This is a lyric from Andy Squyres song, Love Never Fails.

2. As a life-long people-pleaser I did not understand the bondage that living hemmed in by the acceptance and approval of others actually is. I thank God, and therapy and God some more for tearing away the chains that have held me hostage from the joy that is mine in Christ’s unflappable love for me, just as I am. More on this journey will no doubt some up as I share these cards.