Preparing for the Show... and What Comes After

Mood: Organised Chaos | Post Type: Behind the Scenes | Weeks Until Show: 7

Preparing for the Show

Lately my sketchbooks have become less about planning my next larger pieces and more about mind maps.

That's usually a sure sign that I'm trying to get organised as the countdown to my solo exhibition slips into single figures.

There's a mind map dedicated to the practicalities of the show itself – signage, invitations, nibbles, display logistics and all those little details that visitors probably never notice but somehow make everything come together. Then there's another for prints and pendants: working out the deadlines for test prints (which means getting everything photographed first), deciding how many print editions is realistic and settling on ten for now – six Dartmoor and four coastal.

I'm also wondering whether to increase the number of notecards. I have my eye on a lovely whirligig display that holds sixteen cards, and they're such a useful way of discovering which images people naturally gravitate towards. They might even help shape future print collections.

The final mind map is the biggest one of all – the wall pieces. Looking at it was both encouraging and slightly terrifying. There is still so much I'd like to create before the exhibition, but somewhere over the past few months my thinking has shifted. Earlier in the year I probably would have been putting myself under enormous pressure to complete every single piece on the list. Now I'm trying to be kinder to myself.

If I finish ten wall pieces, that's enough.

If I somehow reach nineteen, that's wonderful too.

It's a mindset I've had to adopt because my other professional life has become incredibly demanding. Since the beginning of the year the pressure has steadily increased, particularly over the last few months, and I simply can't afford to have every part of my life competing with one another – work, my exhibition, my hubby, Boo hound, home and supporting my mum. A recent blip reminded me that my exhibition is supposed to be something I enjoy, not another source of overwhelming stress.

When Success Creates New Problems

Recently I sold two of my larger framed pieces at an exhibition. I genuinely didn't expect them to sell, so suddenly I found myself two 10 x 8 frames short of my exhibition plans. The positive is that those sales, along with seven pendant sales, even after gallery commission, have helped fund the next batch of frames. I've just spent another £234 on six replacement frames, so every sale really does matter.

What surprised me most, however, was my emotional reaction to losing those two wall pieces.

I was delighted they'd found new homes, but I was also a little heartbroken. Partly because I don't know where those new homes are, but mostly because I loved those pieces. I could picture exactly where they would have hung in my own exhibition.

The Grant I Didn't Submit

Around the same time I spent well over forty hours preparing a grant application. Yep... I do nothing by halves.

There were letters of recommendation to organise, mentoring quotes to gather, equipment hire costs to source, budgets to calculate and a detailed action plan to write. Then, on submission day, I discovered something I'd completely overlooked. Although I'd registered for an account weeks earlier, I also needed approval to become eligible to apply—a process that could take up to ten working days.

There was definitely a moment of disbelief, despair and a fair bit of self-loathing, accompanied by a few choice words that are probably best left out of this blog.

But then something unexpected happened.

I felt... relief.

Yes, I felt guilty because several wonderful people had generously given their time to support the application. But underneath all of that was a quiet sense of relief.

The grant would have launched a year-long project beginning in January 2027. The chances of receiving it were always slim, yet I'd already mentally committed myself to another huge body of work.

Perhaps I wasn't ready for that just yet.

Oddly enough, one of the sold pieces helped me understand why.

Edge of Evening was created from a photograph taken at Bellever, one of the first places we visited after moving to Dartmoor. It was also one of the first locations I began incorporating into my pendant collection.

I've only really visited it once.

And that's what bothered me.

Bellever has so much more to offer than a single artwork. I don't want to simply produce another finished piece from a photograph. I want to spend time there. I want to sketch. I want to walk through the forest in different seasons, understand its character and atmosphere, and gradually build a body of work that truly reflects this beautiful place.

That kind of creativity can't be rushed.

Looking Beyond the Exhibition

It's one of the reasons I've joined an online sketch club. The timing couldn't really have been worse. I've already missed the first three live sessions because of work, but I've been watching them on catch-up, and that's still feeding something that's been quietly asking for attention.

When I joined, I admitted that September would probably be when I could fully immerse myself. Then I remembered September is also likely to be when I'll become a full-time carer while my mum recovers from her operation. Life has a habit of reminding us there is rarely a perfect time. Perhaps that's the biggest lesson I'm taking away from all of this.

For years I've often been guilty of thinking about what's next. Finish this exhibition. Apply for the next opportunity. Plan the next project. Keep moving forward. This time feels different. I'm not thinking beyond the exhibition because I'm chasing the next milestone. I'm thinking about what comes afterwards because I want to make space for something I've realised I've been missing. Creating without every piece carrying the weight of whether it belongs in an exhibition.

That's not to say I'll suddenly have lots more time. I won't. My work will still happen in the gaps around everything else, just as it always has. But I'd like those gaps to be driven by curiosity rather than a deadline. I think that's something I've been missing.

This is Episode 26 in my ‘Solo Show Diary’ series — a behind-the-scenes look at how my work develops. You can find my earlier posts here.