Be Still and Know: On Stillness, Hustle, and the Art of Making

When I began painting seriously, life was all a flutter, to say the least. I was a hummingbird darting from one task to the next, consumed by a hustle mindset: produce, produce, produce. I took to heart Andy Warhol’s famous quote: “Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it.” And in taking it to heart, I somehow also altered it into a “make as much art as you possibly can” version.

And it served me.

As much as I look back at those first couple years of trying to make it as an artist and want to scold myself for my out-of-control version of art capitalism – in which no painting felt precious or particularly meaningful outside its ability to sell so I could justify making more – I’ve learned to be a bit more gentle. That season was important.

And, importantly, that season is over.

I was in a perpetual state of “fight or flight” that I have to keep reminding myself I am no longer in. Things are different now. I’m not working out of my parents’ spare room. I’m not staying up late at night wondering if I’ll ever be a proper adult. Old me gave now me the luxury of taking my time – just sitting with the idea, the combination of colors, the not-quite-right canvas.

I created Be Still and Know a few years ago. At first, it was just another churned-out piece. The background was several blocks of color that just weren’t it. I’m pretty sure I even displayed it that way. You can see a little of that transformation here

But it called to me, and I eventually brought it back to the studio, where it became the version it is today. The last thing I added was the halo of gold stars, as though I were drawing a sacred circle around the main idea: truth and beauty are as much in the stillness as they are in the hustle, in the calm water like a sheet of reflective glass as much as in the raging river.

I have come to these conclusions: It’s okay to move quickly, a thousand beats a minute. (Because who has time to constantly question oneself? The uninhibited making of marks is as important as the marks that have been made.)

And it’s okay to find peace in the stillness. To let the stillness absorb all those steps and missteps; all the fury, the chaos, all the trying; all the really making it; all the falling flat.

This piece gets its title from Psalm 46, a verse whose arms I am always finding myself returning to. It might as well read: I’ve got you.

I’m in a season of leaning into more stillness, more curiosity, more sketching, more long baths with a good book. It turns out, stillness isn’t the opposite of making after all; it’s as essential to it as the pauses in a piece of music.

It seemed fitting, then, that Be Still and Know would be the print I chose for September’s monthly art giveaway – a tradition I’m bringing back from my earliest days as an artist. If this reflection – or this little hummingbird – meets you in a season when you could use the reminder too, I’d love for you to enter.

If you’re already on my email list, you’re already entered. Nothing else to do.

And if you know someone else who could use a little stillness right now, share this reflection with them.