I’m genuinely thrown by the fact that February is over. The past few weeks have been a bit of an exhausting blur, if I’m being honest. But here we are knocking on March’s door, and I owe you another Deep Dive!
Alas, in this moment, I am acutely aware that I haven’t a cohesive Deep Dive within me. So, I’m hoping you’ll find it within yourself to accept more of a scattered-if-earnest skim this month.
I woke up in my very own bed this morning knowing that really all I needed to do today was drive to Boise (a five-hour straight shot) and write an essay. I told myself I’d ponder February’s subject matter on the drive and get it all figured out, but I realized about three hours in that my brain is hopelessly at sea right now (along with my heart, gut, and general viscera). Like I said, it’s been a tough few weeks.
Still, I trust this faithful little ritual. And I’m choosing to lean in.
After all, February was a big month for Artifice!
We kicked off the month with Anna Katharina Jens, a German ceramicist based in London.
When I asked Anna about her early childhood creativity, she talked about the joy of regularly rearranging her whole bedroom to highlight a new treasure, any beautiful new thing she’d acquired for her space.
It strikes me that Anna’s earliest association with creativity is this readiness for change, for an entirely new chapter. There’s a whimsical restlessness in this anecdote that feels encouraging to me.
I think Anna would agree that part of the restlessness was a deep sense that she hadn’t found her place, and was actively looking for it. Throughout our conversation, Anna was very clear that she felt like an artist from the very beginning, never wavering, despite the fact that she didn’t discover a truly satisfying medium until nearly four decades into her life.
Over the years, I’ve loved gathering stories of artists who’ve dabbled with and discarded many mediums before finding one that feels just right…but I think Anna is the first to really not have a single regularly-practiced medium for so many years, while somehow holding onto the innate instinct that she was going to find something. I find it immensely inspiring. The level of self-knowing and belief astounds me.
In Anna’s words “I’m very bold as a person, and I just go for it.”
She studied architecture and architecture history (soaking up all sorts of creative wisdoms in adjacent art classes along the way). Later, she followed her beautiful sensitivity and compassion into a degree in children’s rights. Anna’s curiosity also led her to continued education in anthropology.
All of this wholehearted exploration eventually breadcrumbed Anna toward her love affair with one of humanity’s oldest mediums, pottery. Drawing on her architectural background, Anna invented her (now famous) swirl bowl. Two weeks later, Anna’s bowl had two million views.
Now, Anna makes her entire living from this single item (she offers six sizes, and all sorts of wonderful glazing techniques/designs), and dreams of building a production studio in Africa, where she can ethically and gainfully employ as many creative women as possible.
As I often say (to myself, and to my students), it’s easy to see wasted time when you don’t know what you’re in the middle of.
As Anna puts it, “it’s incredible sometimes, what is hidden in yourself.”
These are lessons I hope to never stop learning.
Relatedly…Artifice officially passed 200 episodes this month. 🥹
When I started this project six years ago, I could never have imagined what it would become.
To be clear, I still have plenty of insecurities around it. Artifice never has many streams or subscribers. And for every artist I speak with, 20-30 more have rejected an invitation to be interviewed. You can do the math…it’s a LOT of rejection.
But this project has filled my life with an abundant wonder I never saw coming. It has given me so much.
To celebrate 200 episodes, I thought I’d switch it up and ask someone to interview me. In the end, I actually invited two really special people to interview me. What a gift these conversations have been!
I always refer to Jaron as “my one true fan,” because he gets my work how I know I would get my work if it weren’t my own. He always notices my very favorite parts of each song. He finds every little treasure I’ve hidden. It’s the best!
I’m so grateful for the thoughtful prep Jaron did for this conversation. He had so many wonderful questions ready for me, and approached the whole thing with such sincerity.
As I’ve said in many essays past, it’s really interesting to re-listen to a conversation six months later. I’ve found so much magic in this practice.
The smashing together of past and present begets all manner of surprising discoveries.
Actually, a lot of the time, it feels similar to pulling the perfect oracle card. As I re-listen, I’ll hear the guest (or sometimes my past self) saying something that sounds completely unfamiliar to present-day me, but will have spooky levels of serendipity with questions my students have asked earlier in the week, problems I’d been trying to crack recently, things I’d heard or read earlier that day…
It feels like the gems of each conversation come back to me when I’m ready to properly receive them, like the full salience of the idea requires a six-month incubation period.
The week I re-listened to my conversation with Jaron, I was feeling really full of doubt. I’d experienced some painful setbacks (artistically and emotionally), and felt really unsure about whether I could trust my inner compass. I felt worried about my sense of purpose and identity.
But as I listened, the sweetest gift was there for me. Jaron had mentioned that all three of my albums sounded like me, which surprised me a bit. I’ve received quite a bit of feedback suggesting most people haven’t detected much of a common “voice” in my work. So I asked Jaron if he could pinpoint the throughline he was perceiving.
Jaron thought for a few short moments, then said “it feels like you’re really trying to engage with the world and add beauty to it, and understand its beauty in return.” 😭
I will never forget this. I have rarely ever felt so seen and understood.
I don’t think I’ve ever articulated my perspective about this (I’m not sure I even could have, to be honest), but Jaron is so exactly right – about both parts!
It means SO much to me that these things came through in my work, even if just to one person.
I really am trying to engage with the world. I am so earnestly invested in adding beauty wherever/however I can. And I so, so sincerely want to understand as much of the world’s beauty as I can.
I very frequently feel like I’m failing in every way. I feel chronically misunderstood, mischaracterized, and rejected. My works invariably struggle to reach an audience. So many visions feel vastly out of grasp.
But this little treasure is a buoy I will continue to visit whenever doubts creep in. Thank you, Jaron.
I felt similar magic when I relistened to my conversation with Olivia. Our friendship is one of the biggest victories of this project. We met six years ago when I first interviewed Olivia (Ep. 15), and we are the absolute sweetest of best friends now. I don’t know what I would do without her.
I haven’t mentioned it in a long time, but I think most people reading this know that I’m estranged from my father. I went no-contact with him on my birthday, almost five years ago (April 2020).
Since then, I’ve fielded ENDLESS criticism about this decision, but I’ve absolutely never regretted it. I’m so proud that I found the courage to remove myself from the most manipulative and abusive relationship of my life. I gave him over thirty years of patience and forgiveness, and then it was time for me to face facts, get out, and starting building my self-worth from the ground up. [If you’re interested, here’s a song I wrote about that experience.]
Over the past year or so, I’ve been doing EMDR, mostly focused on dad-related trauma. It’s been truly shocking to step back into those memories with an adult perspective. I’ve been able to see things I couldn’t previously understand. And I’ve felt my strength and safety growing like never before.
I went into 2024’s holiday season feeling more wholehearted than ever. I was full of creative energy, and so much joy. Thoughts of my broken original-family (which usually haunt me into deep depression and emotional flashback during the holidays) were, wonderfully, few and far between.
[I really wasn’t planning on sharing this today (or probably ever), but like I said ^^^ there’s an all-at-sea situation going on with me this week and I’m leaning in.]
A week before Christmas I got a letter from my dad. After nearly five years without contact, it was a real shock to my system. For soooooo many reasons, I didn’t even open it. I took it to a therapy session, talked my decision through with a trusted professional, and left it in the garbage can at her office.
I was VERY determined not to let my asshole dad’s selfishly-timed letter ruin the cheerful holiday spirit I had been thoughtfully, self-carefully cultivating for months.
Unfortunately, my subconscious didn’t get the memo and I’ve spent the past two months absolutely plagued by awful emotional-flashback nightmares (in which my dad is usually trying to murder me #sofun #realcool), among lots of other physiological symptoms – muscle pain, persistent headaches, insomnia, anxiety, all-encompassing dread…
Whenever this sort of thing happens, it’s all really severely compounded by the fact that almost nobody believes me about any of this. It’s crushingly isolating. I get feeling utterly worthless. So, so very small.
So, imagine my surprise when, going about my high-functioning business as I do (oopsie! another trauma response! 💃), I sat down late in January to re-listen to my conversation with Olivia…
…and heard my past self and my best friend having the most trusting, precious, confident, validating conversation about my shitty dad. I had completely forgotten we’d talked about him at all, but Olivia’s and my healthier-self’s words were right there for me when I needed them so badly. I couldn’t believe it.
See what I mean? This stuff is magic. The universe is inceptioning me in the most wholesome way.
Two brilliant quotes from Olivia:
“I feel more myself the angrier I’ve gotten in my life because it brought my values system to the surface.” 🔥 << I couldn’t agree more.
“One of the most painful parts about being an artist is that you feel everything so much. It’s so unfair, and yet it’s also magical, and exhausting, but awesome.”
If you decided not to click on that song link a few paragraphs up, this quote from Olivia pretty much sums up the whole thing. But I wouldn’t trade my artist blessing-curse for anything (and neither would Olivia).
I also wouldn’t trade Olivia for anything. I love her so much.
Oh my god, fam. Writing this is hard. About two hours ago I paused for doordashed mole enchiladas (fave), then I wrote some more, and now it’s 9pm and my eyes feel blurry. Although, some of that is last-day-of-the-month contact lenses. Relatable?
…I paused to take out my contacts. This was the correct decision.
Beep beep boop what am I even writing about. Let’s focus…
The third celebration-week episode was just a fun little mini. I’ve often considered recording spoken versions of my Deep Dives. I really try to write them the way I would speak them, so it’s seemed like a fun idea to actually speak them. But I’ve been too shy! Darling Andrew really loved my last essay and was very encouraging about it. And it felt like really auspicious timing – first essay of 2025, landing smack on the big celebration week, etc. So I went for it!
I’ve never really called myself a writer, but the fact is that I write a helluva lot of prose. And it felt really nice to honor my work in that way. I hope people like listening to it! And I hope to make this a more regular practice in the future. Note: I will probably definitely skip recording this one, though. 👀
Speaking of auspiciousness…
The final celebration episode was the Love Notes episode, which really very magically happened to land on Valentine’s Day. 😭
I was SO nervous to reach out to my previous guests to invite them to share a little love note to help me celebrate 200 episodes. I was terrified nobody would respond! But I’m very, very glad I ignored that worry and reached out anyway. I will treasure these notes until the end of time.
Here’s a really special one from absolute badass Jessica Hancock (Ep. 109):
“As I reflect on my artistic journey, I can’t help but think about the wonderful opportunity you gave me several years ago to share my story on your art podcast. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for that experience. It meant so much to me to have a platform to express my vision, my creative process, and what it truly feels like to be a working artist in the 21st century. As you know, being an artist can sometimes feel like walking a solitary path, navigating both the highs of inspiration and the lows of inevitable challenges. Your podcast gave me a chance not only to share my experiences but also to connect with others who understand the unique joys and struggles of an artistic life. It was a reminder of how vital a strong, supportive network is—not only of friends and family but also of admirers, patrons, and fellow creatives who truly “see” us. Your belief in my work and thoughtful questions during the interview has stayed with me, reminding me of the importance of community. It’s that connection—those moments of being heard and valued—that sustain artists like me through the challenging times and fuel our determination to keep creating. Thank you, Emily, for your kindness, support, and the meaningful work you do to uplift and celebrate artists. I’m so grateful for your friendship and encouragement and endlessly inspired by your dedication to the arts. Thank you!”
How can I doubt my sense of purpose when this exists in the world? I couldn’t be prouder. And I couldn’t be more grateful.
FINALLY…
We arrive at February’s last offering, my interview with surrealist painter William D. Higginson. His work is so rad, and I loved talking with him.
You know, I realize it all gets a little meta. I’m an artist who talks with other artists about what it’s like to make art and be an artist. I’m admittedly obsessed.
But I can’t ignore my intuition telling me this is one of the keys to getting us out of so many of the messes we’re in right now, as a species.
Art is what humans do. We’re meaning-making creatures. We’re among very few creatures known to experience awe, a state that’s been proven to have myriad health benefits, and is readily accessible through art. [Note: I spent a good chunk of today’s drive listening to this book on the subject.]
Further, as a deeply social primate, we absolutely require connection, which means it’s imperative that we express, and that we learn to listen. Making and thoughtfully consuming art helps us develop these skills. Art helps us understand ourselves, help us reveal our inner selves to others, and allows us to see each other more clearly. It’s one of our greatest tools.
Specifically of surrealism (let’s be honest, art is really more of a swiss army situation), William says “people become numb to seeing the same thing every day. So, if you start painting that same thing recognizably in a different way, it’ll jump out…and it might start telling you the message again.”
I love this explanation so much. It rings true.
William said SO many cool and wise things about technique, determination, dedication, exploration…all topics I love so much, all topics I thought I’d want to focus on in this essay.
But in this moment, I’m finding that instead, I want to share more of what William said about purpose and vision.
William spoke about how the repression of artistic energy can come out as reckless behavior. “You can’t hold back the artist in someone. I think it’s kind of dangerous to do that.”
I think he’s right. I think it’s dangerous to encourage someone to ignore their unique voice, their unique gifts and interests. I can’t fathom how much brilliance we squander when we suppress ourselves and others (especially children) in these ways.
We so desperately need diverse perspectives. We need the skills to effectively communicate our diverse perspectives.
We have to be allowed to explore an individual sense of purpose. And we have to encourage each other to dive into our most purposeful works.
In William’s words, “art existed before language, and what a lot of artists have forgotten is how to communicate through their art. So, I think it’s very important to keep that vision as the most paramount thing. That’s the one thing we should all be focusing on. And then let everything kind of grow around it.”
These words, and really all of the Artifice things February has provided, are a great reminder to me.
Even all at sea, I am trying to let everything grow around what’s most intuitive. And I’m trying to remain committed to my most purposeful practices, and wildest visions.
I want this for all of us.
Love,
Emily