Just This.
As an artist, I often find myself moving toward something—a goal, a milestone, the next chapter. There is always another project to complete, another exhibition to apply for, another idea waiting to be explored. But lately, I've been thinking less about where I'm going and more about the space between having an idea and actually bringing it to life.
The theme of an upcoming exhibition I'm submitting work to is titledWhat Now? and the question couldn't have arrived at a more fitting time.
As artists, we spend so much time imagining. We gather inspiration, fill notebooks with ideas, save screenshots, create mood boards, and dream about the work we want to make.
The exciting part is often the idea itself. The harder part is committing to it.
Creating requires vulnerability.
Not just the vulnerability of sharing finished work, but the vulnerability of starting.
The willingness to make something that may not live up to the vision in your head. The willingness to experiment, fail, revise, and try again. The willingness to be seen.
When I first began thinking about creating work for this exhibition, I immediately started building ideas around the theme. I knew what I wanted to explore: the space between thought and action. The moment when the destination feels clear, but the first step feels impossible.
And then I got stuck.
I began thinking about logistics. I would need a model. I would need someone willing to step into the concept with me and be vulnerable in front of the camera. I considered putting out a casting call on social media and waiting for someone to respond.
But with a deadline approaching, I found myself hesitating. More planning. More thinking. More waiting.
Then, during a meeting, an artist and mentor I deeply admire ended our conversation with a simple suggestion: "Take a self-portrait."
It felt like a lightbulb turning on.
Of course.
There are limitations when photographing yourself. You can't easily see what the camera sees. You become photographer, model, director, and subject all at once. But as I sat with the idea, I realized something important:
I was the obstacle I had been trying to solve.
I didn't need to wait for the perfect model. I didn't need someone else's vulnerability to make this work happen. I only needed my own.
The work is about transition, uncertainty, and the question of what now, and ultimately what comes next. What better subject than the person currently living inside those questions?
So instead of writing a social media post and waiting for an answer, I picked up my camera.
The irony isn't lost on me that an exhibition centered around What Now? led me directly into my own answer.
Just this.
Not next week. Not when everything is figured out. Not when the perfect opportunity presents itself.
Just this moment. This attempt. This photograph.
Maybe that's what creating art asks of us most often—not certainty, but willingness. The willingness to begin before we're ready. The willingness to trust ourselves enough to take the first step.
Because sometimes the answer to "What now?" isn't another plan.
It's simply to create something that feels like a touch of magic.
what now? OPENING RECEPTION:
FRIDAY JULY 10TH 2026 @ 6PM
555 ASYLUM AVE HARTFORD, CT
