Crab, collage, melancholy & surprise magic: Notes from an artist residency on the coast

Coming fresh off an artist residency at one of my favorite places in the world - a whimsical venue of vintage trailers and a historic lodge on the Washington Coast called the Sou’wester, I feel a lot better than going in. 

It’s November. So half the time it was blustery and rainy - this was fine. An artist residency is not like being a tourist, strolling around the shops eating a lot of sugar; critical that the weather is nice because you need external entertainments to fill the time. 

You are there, primarily, to create. And think. Deeply. Some of this can happen or be shepherded into existence while staring at the sea or wandering down the beach barefoot, absolutely. But it’s not a requirement. 

I keep getting asked - what do you do in an artist residency? Since my primary job is not ‘artist’, people get confused. Understandably. 

So, I’ll share my last experience, and then I’ll give you some tips should YOU be interested in doing one yourself. It’s a lot easier and more gratifying than you might think. 

I was in pretty rough shape when I first rolled into town. 

I’d been having a good amount of emotional turmoil, which I know is common in the fall. The Autumn really does offer you some excellent visual and conceptual material to work with; inviting you to dig in and noodle hard on the life/ death/ life cycle, and possibly do a little fun and excruciating tumble into an existential rabbit hole where you may or may not stay for the next five months, depending on the climate of the part of the world you live in and your temperament.  

Before I even officially began my residency, I was given a handful of gifts: 

1) Astoria. I used to live here, and still have a longing for it, but it was not an easy time. 

I had quit a wildlife biology field job right in the middle of the season (big no-no), because I just could not handle seeing one dead and mangled bird in the name of science, and I could not stomach being around people who seemed to revel in it. 

Astoria is in Oregon, right at the mouth of the Columbia before you cross into Washington, by way of the most  specular and spooky bridge I have ever crossed. On this day in downtown Astoria it was a balmy 65 degrees, people were wandering around, and I remembered the relief that comes with physically being in clearly liberal-leaning cities. Where I live at the time of writing is in close proximity to gobsmacking mountain beauty, but it’s also a 50/50 on whether the local business owner is a Pride or a neo-nazi supporter. (Ok, 50/50 is probably a bit high but any percentage of white supremacy feels like too much, amirite?) 

I had a plan for lunch but on the way there I see a new little spot, a window with four seats, one man behind it, and some interesting-looking noodles coming out. I take a couple more passes by, and I then commit and get the last noodle portion of the day. I meet the Buddhist chef named Kenzo. He writes this on the top of my lunch: 

The noodles were Yakisoba, a dish I generally couldn’t care less about, but these are phenomenal. It seems that the magic of Mr. Buddhist Chef is charring both the vegetables and the noodles. Starting immediately, I shall attempt to char every vegetable and noodle that comes my way.

2) I arrive at the Sou’wester, and see my old friend, the original Artist Residency trailer, with the same comforting white walls with poppy curtains, and the little vintage kitchen table. As I’m unpacking the first things from my car, I see a familiar figure and hear a familiar voice. And, I can’t even believe it, but here is Jessi. A wonderful friend/client/woman/sorceress who I wrote an entire essay about, she being the sole attendee of a two-day retreat that I had held two years prior… at the Sou’wester. I had no idea she was going to be here, and it’s a big enough place that you could easily miss someone. We hang out a bit, do some collage, as Jessi always has a basket of art supplies with her. 

3) At the same time as Jessi is in the lodge lobby by the fire doing art stuff, there is a group of people hosting a crab boil by the community outdoor kitchen. I had not yet realized that it isn’t yet commercial crab season, so I assumed I would get some crab the next day (and every day after that, being that kind of crazed seafood-loving person). 

These fellows had gone out in the boats to show their kids how to crab, and they were so proud of their catch and their homemade Old Bay Seasoning, and their ability to share their harvest that there was a random little group gathered, who had eaten their share of crab but was just hanging out enjoying being together, outside, on a warm-ish fall night, laughing with strangers.

DAMN IT IF I DON’T LOVE THIS KIND OF IMPROMPTU COMMUNITY. (even more so over crab)

Unsurprisingly, the next day after Jessi has left and there’s no more crabby community, I’m feeling a bit glum. It’s Monday, and I’m here till Friday which yes, is a massive, unbelievable treat. And I want to do some shit, really get it done, and now I have the time. But, my brain is also frizzy-frazzled from digital devices and work and stress, and the aforementioned turmoil, and so I take a bit of a transition day, where I fully sink into getting to BE here, try to get off my phone, and settle in. This feels like a bit of a lost day, but sometimes you need that. 

The rest of the week has ups and downs but is overall, wonderful. I do two notable things: 

First: Go back into Astoria over the spooky bridge, buy a sketchbook and glue from the fine arts store, and proceed to begin a collage/ mixed media journal. Partially because the visual artists always have a lot more to (visually) show for their residencies than writers, dancers, philosophers, etc and this can be a little annoying.

But also because I had created these types of journals all through my young adulthood, and then stopped. Last year I finally recycled all of my piles of magazines, sighing, because I was convinced that I had outgrown this type of expression. 

What? Why? 

Oh, I know why. Social media. I’m not just saying this because it’s convenient for my digital minimalism work (haha). Scrolling (and streaming) had honestly just replaced my desire to sit down after work, after dinner, on a Saturday afternoon, and create something physical for the sake of creating. But seeing Jessi do this rekindled my desire for it. 

It was strangely hard to get started - perfectionism can really be a judgy spiny toad that sits in your path, and not in a fun way. But I picked up that scary toad and put it gently to the side and got something on the page. It didn’t matter what it was, I was just proud to have gotten something glued down. 

And: I started writing my first book. 

Yes, indeedy. Stay tuned. 

Now, here are some tips for YOU, should you have any desire to undergo an artist residency: 

Numbero Uno: You might think that you need to find an official artist residency somewhere fancy and that it has to be a month or a year long and you also have to be an official (‘official’ = paid? Not sure) artist. 

You don’t. 

You can make up your own. Ideally, outside of your house just to give your brain a different environment, and you don’t become all the sudden hellbent on organizing your closet instead of sitting down and making something. 

And also ideally, give yourself as much time as you can eek out of your schedule, especially if you think you may need a transition day, which you probably will. 

Does your friend have a cabin in the woods that you can trade something for a week at? Can you afford a simple airbnb, even nearby?

One important point is that you do need to be alone, alone-ish, or at least with other folks doing a similar thing (this really won’t work if you’re just visiting family for a weekend). 

If you’re anywhere near Washington State, apply for an Artist Residency at the Sou’wester. They run a non-profit arm and they just want people out here doing creative things. You don’t need to have a huge mission, or again, be a ‘paid’ artist. They create the space; you bring whatever is on your heart to make or do. The added benefit of going to the Sou'wester is that they have a private sauna that you can book for an hour at a time. 

Oh, but how to find the tiiiiimmmmeeee??? This brings me to punto Number Dos: Schedule this shit out as far in advance as needed. 

Ok, so your schedule is paaaacked oouuut for the next whole YEAR because AHHHH life is SOOO CrAzYYYY and work, and kids, blah blah blah. 

There is something to say for (and by that I mean if I could compel you with a wizard’s staff I would) to just get things down on the calendar, no matter how far out, even if it feels ridiculously far out. If the trip, or the visit, or the residency needs to be a year and a month from now, ok FINE! 

The great news is that once you start inviting your calendar to be your friend for the long term, scheduling out quarter rituals/ retreats, that monumental backpack trip that is your huge dream, that trip to France, and those dates are held, you just… work around them as it gets closer. Because then it’s then the plan. 

(This is also a great strategy for planning IN PERSON visits of people who may be far away.)

Numbero Tres: Agenda vs Intention 

This is an interesting debate - create an agenda for yourself, or just go with the flow and see what happens. 

I believe there is a time and place for both. 

If you really need to get something done, and especially finished; a very tangible progress goal - you may need an agenda with some legit time blocking. I might call this more of a ‘retreat’ but seriously, these distinctions are completely meaningless.

If you do build an agenda, obviously leave whole chunks to allow yourself to go outside, take a nap, go find some crab etc. 

Regardless, give it a little thought ahead of time, and absolutely know that you will need to get the fuck off of your phone and Netflix while you’re in this precious, beautiful, rare bubble of time. 

(I would argue, and do argue on like two podcasts a week, that we all need to get off our devices more everyday because everyday is also a precious, beautiful, and rare bubble of time.

But, belieeeeeve me, if you spend your artist residency scrolling Instagram and streaming Netflix, you’re going to be pretty sad when you get home and resume scrolling Instagram and streaming Netflix.)

Lastly, Numbero Quatro: Bring some of your favorite foods and some of your coziest clothes, blankets, etc. 

Unless the focus of your residency/ retreat is health and wellness (an amazing goal!) just chill on the pressure to log your protein and maintain your workout routine exactly as it is at home. Don’t go on a nutzo free-for-all-cookie-dough-for-breakfast-type-binge ideally, but let your brain focus on other things. 

Which things again? What’s the goal?

Create. Think Deeply. Be Present. Drink Water. Stretch. Rest Well. Walk. Play. Sleep. 

Mix up the order & frequency/ drop some/ add some & Repeat.

And wrap yourself in your coziest robe as you do it. 

Interested in applying for an artist residency at the Sou’wester? Head here.