The Art of the Get-Together

Amanda Hancock Artist & Art Educator

As an artist and art educator, the summertime is my time in the studio or in the kitchen. This is the short season when I slather and sling paint, write from my gut, can jam, and bake bread. This is my time to muse and make for myself.

But last summer, nearly every day that I set aside to sit and create in the studio, I experienced an unexpected interruption from a person in need… and it drove me CRAZY! I spend nine months of my year giving to students in need; I rarely get the time during the school year to set aside life and enjoy respiration from inspiration, morning to night, being in my studio and breathing through my fingertips.

In my selfish frustration, however, I am struck with a hard truth regarding my artwork and my artistic process: I am an interdisciplinary artist. As such, life, to me, doesn’t emulate art; it is art. For me, product and process are knit together with the fibers of living. From the secret spiritual space of sanctuary where the core of my being and be-ing begins, to the space where relationship and fellowship Divinely dances around and through me, overflowing to all other living connections in my life and recorded in my visual studies. In other words, it is as vital for me to be with the Divine and in community with others as it is to make art about it.

The painting of cups full of coffee or tea are celebratory images that are as important as the communal moment that it commemorates. The breaking of bread together with loved ones is as essential to human essence.

What good is the celebration and fellowship if it is only on my time and on my terms? Why would I want to be making and painting bread without baking and breaking bread?

So, if I feel so strongly about the sensual experience of art and the art of the get-together, the recurrent creation of community and the visual art that commemorates and advocates this experience, it would stand to reason that these “intrusions” of my summertime studio days are not intrusive at all! They are, rather, invitations for others to participate in the art of life!

What an awakening! What good is the celebration and fellowship if it is only on my time and on my terms? Why would I want to be making and painting bread without baking and breaking bread? What sort of artistic imposter am I that wants my art to inspire feelings of connection in others when all I want to do is ignore the togetherness opportunities so that I can be alone to create and advocate for the get-together?

Please don’t misunderstand me: alone-ness with The Divine is important… imperative. But when I chronically grumble at the blatant voice of the Holy Spirit telling me, “here is your chance to serve, Mandy. Here you will not just art about it; you can be about it,” then I know within my heart of hearts that this service is part of my artistic process. Oscar Wilde who said, “life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”

A dear friend once told me that my artwork and creative practice was like a bunch of local farm wives being invited to my kitchen. I thanked her because I knew that she was paying me a sweet compliment. At the time I didn’t fully understand what she meant. She was telling me that my tender paintings with my sweet baked offerings made her feel like she was home. She was one of the farm wives to pull up a chair to my proverbial table and join the love-feast. This is the art of life, the art of the get-together.