Driftwood
the steady march of babies of time
Two weeks ago I took a one week residency at Milkwood.
Professionally and creatively - its one of the best things I’ve ever done. And I am tremendously thankful to Sophie Blackall and Ed Schmidt for welcoming me into the beautiful space they’ve created. There are a lot of things I can say about Milkwood: the scenery - stunning, the barn restoration - beautiful, the children’s book library (organized by illustrator!) - amazing, my nine fellow residents* - all amazingly talented people, I am in awe of every one and feel so incredibly fortunate to call them all a friend.
But the true gift of Milkwood of course was Time.
I’ve been wanting to do this residency since I first learned about it in February of 2023 I heard Sophie Blackall at a conference. She gave a talk about her work, her career, and then invited the audience to apply for the Milkwood 2023 residency. I went up to her after to introduce myself (i.e. embarrass myself as a super fan) and said I would absolutely love to apply to Milkwood for that summer. I would be giving birth to my first child in July but no problem, I’m sure by August I’ll be ready to go!
Sophie raised her eyebrows and highly encouraged me to consider coming the following year.
June 2024 - I pull into the Milkwood driveway. Sophie greeted me and the other artists that I drove up with at the door - “nice to meet you” - “oh, we’ve meet before”. Clearly our whole first meeting where I psychotically suggested that at one month post-partum I would want to or be able to attend a professional retreat did not enter into Sophie’s long term memory (thank god!).
At the evening welcome drinks we are invited to bring a book (something we have authored and/or illustrated) to leave at the Milkwood library. Many other residents share books, filled with their illustrations, authored by themselves. I hold my copy of Gnomes and Ungnomes close to my chest. It’s just a couple illustrations. My name doesn’t appear on the cover. Does it really count?
At that moment - and I swear Sophie read my thoughts - she gave a toast:
No one in this room should have imposter syndrome. Everyone here belongs.
I place Gnomes and Ungnomes on the shelf.
I am so thankful for meeting Sophie, for listening to Sophie’s advice, for Sophie not remembering meeting me, for meeting Sophie again at Milkwood, for listening to Sophie’s advice again at Milkwood.
No imposter syndrome. I am just as good and talented and smart as everyone else here. I believe Sophie (she’s never steered me wrong in the past) but its a little hard to believe. Everyone here is so incredibly talented. They draw like I wish I could draw. Their critique is so spot on. And they know their work flow, they know their process, they set up their desks and dive right in.
On day one I panicked a bit - but what do I do with all this Time? There were no diapers to change, no baby demanding you break your back so she can have the joy of walking around the apartment. Literally just time. Terrifying. I kept thinking “this is not sustainable”. In 6 days there will be diapers and walking. I was living a lie, if I couldn’t get the work completely done in this one week it would never ever get done. How do I fit an entire year’s (possibly decade’s ) worth of work in the next 6 days‽?‽! Because surely I’ll never be given the gift of this much Time again.
Also I needed to draw a horse for the Milkwood “guest book”, just like Oliver Jeffers did the week before. Oh my god.
My friend and roommate for the week, Zara, seemingly was drinking the same coffee as me but was somehow running on rocket fuel - she literally RAN out of bed at 6am every morning and worked till 11 or midnight at night. I was in bed at both times. I would fall asleep and wake up to the sight of her slipping in or out of the door.
Eventually I realized two things -
Zara didn’t have rocket fuel, just double the motivation. She has two kids at home.
There was no Time to waste worrying about what anyone else was doing. There was only Time to work.
So I did.
I drew and drew, I got feedback, I threw out drawings, Anden picked those out of the trash (she told me later - “it wasn’t trash it was art!”). I drew more. I learned so much. Someone would walk by my desk, read the story I was slowly assembling on my bulletin board and ask a question, make a suggestion, sometimes laugh (yay! they think its funny!), or not laugh (oh no they hate it). Draw, draw, draw.
Milkwood, I learned, was named after the 1954 radio drama by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. By the end of the week, I am trying to figure out how to take Milkwood home with me. How to take Time home with me. I was heading home first to Brooklyn to pick up Matt, Margo, and Stevie and bring them to Maine so we can celebrate Margo’s first birthday with family. I told Matt on the drive that I wanted establish “Milkwood by the Sea” in Maine - or put a bit more poetically, “Driftwood”.
Matt of course starts looking at Zillow listings immediately of properties that could house ten illustrator residents at a time - but this is a plan that is dozens of book deals away. I need Driftwood now. I need Time now. So day one in Maine - I set up my own personal “Driftwood” (AKA - I take over the desk at my parent’s house). I lay out my story board, plug in my light table, pin up my drawings and the drawings by my fellow Milkwood residents on the (much smaller) bulletin board, I log into our Milkwood slack channel. I’m ready to go.
Except, it’s Margo’s first birthday. And the grandmas, and grandpas, and aunties are all here. And Margo got a new pair of walking shoes. She’s also ready to go too. To go far away from my desk.
Milkwood was the first time I spent any real time away from Margo in the first year of her life. She grew and changed so much while I was away. She’s continued to grow and change so much since I’ve been back. She’s walking (with assistance) still everywhere. We took her to the beach, I kept her in her normal clothes as I figured she wouldn’t like the freezing cold Maine waters.
It turned out I was very wrong, she kept steering us into the waves, wanting to walk deeper and deeper into the surf. Her clothes were soaked. Her diaper was soaked. We came back the following day with a bathing suit. The water was even colder. She loved it.
I’m trying to keep my dreams of Driftwood alive - to create time for myself everyday to draw. In order to do that I have to accept that Margo is my studio mate here at Driftwood, and for many years to come. Her critique is not quite as thoughtful as my Milkwood studio mates (her only real words are “uh-oh” and “Dada”), but much like Zara, she seems to be running on some mysterious alternative energy source. She walks out of her room every day (with assistance) and walks as much as she possibly can until she walks herself to her crib at night. Walking is her artistic practice.
We just need to figure out how to collaborate as studio mates.
*My nine fellow Milkwood residents were:
Armando Veve / Zara Fina Stasi / Anden Wilder
Heather Brockman Lee / Magdalena Mora / Marcella Kriebel
Miriam Hathaway / Naomi Canale / Tülin Kozikoglu
Thanks for sharing your story! We all move in different pace and with different priorities in our life. You are just as productive as other people as long as you keep going.