18: Year One in Namibia

illustration of guinea fowl year one in namibia © thesmarti

So it's been a year since we arrived in Windhoek, Namibia for our tour. How does time move so quickly? I still feel like a tourist! [...] But we have settled into a rhythm and routine, and I have adjusted without realizing. So I thought it would be good to take a moment and write down all the things I've internalized about being here.

illustration of bowing to giraffes © smarti

I'm learning to ritualize sunscreen, follow sun protection and embrace desert weather. It's dry all day. The sun is intense. It's nippy at night. Lotion up, bring a hat, have an evening jacket ready.

I keep a stack of 5 dollar coins in my purse for parking attendants. They wear these neon vests and sometimes they are hired by a shopping complex. More likely, they are self-appointed for that area. Other than as ceremonial security, they really don't offer much service. But I understand that there's a dearth of employment opportunities here, and these parking attendants are doing their best.

Sometimes their job is to point at the parking spot while I'm already pulling in. Other times they wave me permission while I'm already successfully backing out. Sometimes they do diddly-squat. I still pay them. I make sure to hunt out those 5 dollar coins like they are four-leaf clovers so I can have a stack at the ready when I inevitably need 'em.

I throw curtsies around after greetings or finished exchanges. When you enter a shop, a greetings is common and expected. (Heck, in Paris, we would be considered so rude for not throwing an all-purpose "Bonjour" to everyone inside while entering a shop.) But I think I got used to the direct Danish way (or maybe the very obviously American way) of using absolutely no formalities in an exchange.

So you can imagine my startled confusion the first time I shook a woman's hand in greeting and she bobbed into a curtsy! (More intrigued than confused and also somehow delighted.) I've learned since that people do this to shake hands but also to receive payment/tips. I thought it was strange but endearing. Now I throw them in all the time. After a friends introduction. At the end of a shopping exchange when I get the receipt. When I'm asking a question to a sales attendant. It's silly and fun and maybe that's why I like doing it!

Driving on the left side isn't so scary. When we arrived I had been spoiled for a decade with public transport. Metros and buses in Buenos Aires. Throw in some trains for Paris. And bikes in Copenhagen. So, dusting off my sleepy beach town driving skills to cruise on the left-hand side of the road was overwhelming.

Judging traffic felt wonky and wrong. Ignoring the honks from taxis (that's how they solicit riders, apparently) gave me anxiety. Checking mirrors was disorienting. Even perspective-decisions were tricky - why does it feel like I'm driving in the middle of the road! It didn't help that a car hit me in my first weeks driving. Yup, my very first accident. Even though it wasn't my fault, it still gives me sweaty palms every time I pass that traffic light.

But slowly, eventually, driving on the left side became more familiar. Trusting my left-side driving skills started to feel more natural. Navigating the city - with GPS on - felt a little better. Figuring out how to turn right at lights (there are very few right turn lights which means you have to just drive smack into the middle of the intersection and then wait for the traffic to finish on their red light to make that right turn) - became a little bit more manageable. [...] All the same, I'd trade the driving for a bike ride if I could.

Living a Windhoek life is small...but the wildlife payoff is big. I like to believe that I'm suited for a wide-range of spaces. After all, one can get used to anything. While Windhoek is a tiny capital, it's more like a town. There are less people, no public transport. Mail doesn't get in easily, the few existing shops/restaurants close early and often, the public library is dismal and you have to drive for hours before hitting another destination. It's just...very different.

And yet, I've always cultivated a small life - even in big cities! I like my workout & errands / work / dinner routine. Only periodically would I throw in the pleasures of a library and museum research visits, intimate SoFar concerts, vintage book hunting, thrift-store hopping, and vegan treats. Now, I've contracted my life way more here because none of those exist (unless I book a flight to Cape Town in South Africa.)

But more interestingly, my life has expanded to include my own house garden (with planted citrus trees, tomatoes, basil, hibiscus and even roses from previous owners), as well as the obvious big adventure of travel and nature in Africa. Driving up north to see elephants, giraffes and impalas, or driving east to see whales, seals, flamingos - I mean, what is this life? There are even lodges and game-drives less than an hour away from where we live! The possibility of seeing wildlife is astounding and wonderful and I know I'm lucky to be here for now.

illustration of dancing with oryx © smarti

So it's been a year to adjust to life and realize the beauty of this adventure. I still feel lost with so many parts of our life here. I still have questions for why things are done a certain way. And I sometimes feel sad when I miss the things that I had in other posts. But I know these are all parts of the dynamic culture shock waves, and I'm riding them the best that I can. Mostly, I'm just grateful when I have awestruck moments of star-gazing or giraffe-studying or even just sampling small, sweet vegan dinner parties with friends.

here's to celebrating Windhoek and our first year here,

smarti

No.17 A Project Pile Up

when projects pile up illustration by @thesmarti

Lately, I'm feeling manic trying to claw my way through projects. I blame it on the fact that I took on too much client work (yay for the finances, boo for personal work). And it doesn't help that I'm like an elephant and will NOT forget a project if it's in my head. I almost don't feel free of it until it's been made. Even if it's not perfect, I just need it out of my head.

And it got me thinking about why this happens, and what kind of strategies I can use to think/feel/act my way out of it.

the one who whimpers illustration by @thesmarti

A daily conversation between me and my partner:

C: "Hey, I'm home! How was your day?"

Me: "Oh, hi! Yea, it was good. I didn't get done as much as I thought I would, or even what I was supposed to do, but look what I made!"

When I have a stack of projects on my desk it doesn't take long before it starts to feel daunting. Like, how can I even get through any of this? Everyone has a different experience with project pile ups. There's the rational stuff - like strategy, logic. And then there's the creative stuff - the emotional flow, inspiration...

On the rational side, it's due to bad time management and poor priorities. I'll confess, I'm not good at keeping it on a gentle daily schedule. I stack days at a time without resting for perspective OR rest too many days in a row. When I feel the crunch, I'll pull long hours and every now and again I will sometimes stay up late into the night to get through a project. (This might be partially due to my peak inspirational hour being in the late afternoon, but I digress.)

In the priorities department, I can also be silly. I treat all my tasks the same which is to say, I'm NOT good at deciding which tasks are priorities (besides client work, of course.) Basically, I throw everything on my list. And if it's on my list, I'm going to try to army crawl my way through it. Not by order of priority, rather by order of can-I-knock-it-off-the-list fast instead of tackling them in hierarchy.

If I was clever I would estimate better how long it takes to write a blog, record a visual brainstorm, sketch this thing, paint that thing, etc. And I would do a daily review of tasks and just shift them over as I move forward. No judgement needed. But man, that's all beyond my experience and patience. I'm just not there...yet.

But creativity is hardly ever just a logic game. Emotionally, I'll feel my way through my projects and some carry more weight than others. A series on my Abuela who passed away is too heavy for me to finish lately. Or a piece that I adore feels too precious for me to go back into and I'd rather see it on my desk - like an old friend to greet me daily! And even still, some projects will never get off my desk until I learn the skills to paint/sculpt/make them when my future self can step into the role.

In other cases, I let inspiration choose me. I'll get in the studio and have things laid out for a particular project, but I'll just slap it off the table like a haughty cat and do something more interesting. So fascinating, right? All I can say is that letting inspiration choose ME is a beautiful feeling. The fluidity of body movement, feeling at peace in my mind, falling into the flow. I have to accept that this is ALSO part of the process.

Maybe on the creative side, it's trusting that intuition is telling me that this is ok? Productivity isn't linear. Maybe it comes in cycles. There are periods when I will be active. There are times when I'll need to rest. There are things that will come easily and some that will be hard won. Maybe I don't have to put judgement on it - maybe it just is.

RATIONAL STRATEGIES

1. Get a better planning breakdown, spend time detailing out each project and keep it front and center so one can see what it actually takes to finish.

2. Keep a strict schedule - put away phone, block hours, use pomodoro, take breaks, etc.

EMOTIONAL STRATEGIES

1. Acknowledging my feelings. "Ok, mind, we are feeling anxious/sad/angry about these projects. This is what anxiety/sadness/anger feels like. Let's just peek our head into one and calculate what's actually in the mix." Maybe acknowledging my feelings will take away the sting of the feeling when I'm stepping into a project?

2. Practicing enoughness. Can I find gratefulness in making the smallest of progress? Can I let go of the pressure to finish? Can I accept that the act of trying is the only thing that matters? Isn't there beauty in the wanting to finish but not being done? Is there a place where I can feel softness for the human need of a finished project without giving into the pressure?

the one who looks weird illustration by @thesmarti

Project pile ups happen. I hope it's something I get better at as time goes on. Hopefully I learn better skills, or find new ways of emotionally immersing. At the very least, I'm reframing these pile-ups as being so excited for buffet of life that I put too much on my plate. That's ok. It's naive and wonderful and silly and forgivable.

Here's hoping you find strategies or softness in your project pile-ups too,

smarti

16: A Look Back At Old Art Skills

Whatever I think I've learned now ...is definitely going to feel primitive when I look back. I'm reminded of this epiphany every single time I stumble upon my old art. Today I'm going back to not so long ago when I started this journey.

I've always loved drawing, but until my 30s it never progressed beyond small doodles. But when we were stationed in Paris in 2018, I took up a drawing with a passion. It helped that there was a heck of a lot of people-watching available. On the way to school, gym, or getting groceries, I would sometimes surreptitiously snap pictures so I could use them as references to draw. Those pictures were immensely helpful to study shapes, and practice hand-eye coordination and line fidelity. (Probably wasn't legal then to take pictures, but I never posted any of them, so I hope it was ok.)

Black and white illustration of an old diva in fur coat by Smarti.

Black and white illustration of a man feeding the pigeons at the park by Smarti.

Black and white illustration of a woman walking away and a man walking forwards by Smarti.

Black and white illustration of a woman holding a finger to her lips in thought by Smarti.

Black and white illustration of a woman talking on her cell with her bag between her feet by Smarti.

Black and white illustration of a skinny man scrolling through his phone by Smarti.

Illustrations @thesmarti

After half a year of these drawings, I got obsessed with line thickness and photo-editing to maximize the black/white contrast. My work became more stylized and it was probably the most freedom I felt while drawing. I love how sloppy and expressive my lines started to be. (You can see more of these type of minimalist drawings here.)

Black ink sketch of a woman in a winter coat walking her dog.

Black ink sketch of a man in beard and chest hair by Smarti.

Black sketch of a teen boy with backpack on by Smarti

Black ink sketch of a toothy little kid by Smarti.

Black ink sketch of a woman on the bus listening to music by Smarti.

Black ink sketch of a woman with bun and sunglasses by Smarti.

Illustrations @thesmarti

After that, I started testing out my drawing skills with pencil only. There's something about feeling the pressure of the lead and how it can create softness and depth with textures and weight. I made a little travel paper pack and it made drawing-on-the-go a lot easier when visiting museums and being about town.

Illustrations @thesmarti

In the lead up to corona virus in 2020, I started transferring images and playing with my iPad's procreate app drawing tools and playing with layouts. I had a lot more time on my hands without errands outside of the house. So I started trying to be more serious with my instagram postings and sharing curated storylines. And gosh, I had so much fun creating these series and pushing my creativity. The ability to tell a bigger story felt like an 'aha' moment for me.

Pencil sketch of a portrait piece of Momola by Smarti.

Graphic line sketch portrait of a man with beard and fedora by Smarti.

Graphic illustration comic composite of Parisians by Smarti.

Illustrations @thesmarti

And well, that's enough navel gazing for now. What I'd like to share is that I'm not one of those people who ALWAYS had the skill. Nope, I learned and erred and practiced. And then through everyday exercise in learning, playing, experimenting, I started to trust myself.

Yes, there's cringe when I look back sometimes. But I also have so much compassion for wherever I was then. I'm grateful Paris gave me time and space to explore this.

I read somewhere that if you don't look back at your art with dismay, then you really haven't learned anything. I'm still learning a lot, but it's fun to look back and see how my skills change each time I try something new.

here's to hoping you find some joy looking back on your own progress,

smarti