Solitude and Discovery: A Week at Zero Foot Hills
December 4th through 7th offered something increasingly precious: uninterrupted time with materials, ideas, and the luxury of following creative impulses without external demands. Zero Foot Hills Artist Residency in Durham, Connecticut provided exactly the kind of flexible program that accommodates the realities of artist-parent life.
For those unfamiliar with residency programs, they typically offer artists temporary relocation opportunities—time and space to reflect, research, or create outside familiar environments. Traditional residencies span months, requiring extended absence from home responsibilities. Zero Foot Hills operates differently, allowing artists to design their own programs and welcome family participation when desired.
I chose solitude deliberately. One week away creates manageable impact on family logistics while providing essential creative space. The decision reflected growing awareness that sustained artistic development requires protected time for experimentation without predetermined outcomes.
Rather than arriving with specific project goals, I structured the week around exploration itself. This approach contradicts productivity culture's emphasis on measurable results, but serves authentic creative development more effectively. Some discoveries can only emerge through unstructured investigation.
Daily rhythms developed naturally: sleeping past the usual 6 AM alarm (revolutionary for a parent), savoring coffee without interruption, then taking observational walks through Connecticut's winter landscape. These morning expeditions provided both physical movement and visual documentation—photographs of compelling textures, patterns, and material possibilities that later informed studio work.
The studio sessions centered on gelatin printing, a technique that connects directly to my printmaking background while offering immediate experimental possibilities. Unlike traditional printmaking processes that require specialized equipment and extended preparation, gelatin printing accommodates spontaneous material exploration. Found objects become printing matrices: grass blades, lichen specimens, torn paper fragments—each creating unique impressions when pressed into the gelatin surface.
This process particularly appealed because it transforms everyday materials into artistic tools. The same observational practice that guides my collage work—noticing overlooked details in natural and urban environments—suddenly generated printing possibilities. A piece of bark becomes texture source; dried grasses create linear elements; even paper scraps from previous projects contribute to new compositions.
Working without predetermined endpoints allowed genuine discovery. Initial prints suggested combinations and layering possibilities that wouldn't have occurred through planned approaches. Some prints were torn apart and reassembled, others layered to create depth relationships, still others served as starting points for entirely different directions.
By week's end, several stacks of experimental work had accumulated—not finished pieces, but investigations that opened multiple future possibilities. This abundance of beginning points proves more valuable than polished outcomes, providing months of potential development directions.
The residency's real gift was temporal spaciousness. Without scheduled obligations or family responsibilities, creative thinking could develop organically. Ideas arrived, were tested, abandoned, or pursued based solely on their inherent interest rather than external pressures. This mental freedom generates insights impossible within typical studio sessions constrained by limited time blocks.
Returning home with renewed perspective highlighted how essential these periodic retreats become for sustained artistic practice. The work created during the residency matters less than the creative confidence restored through uninterrupted exploration. Sometimes the most productive artistic choice involves temporarily stepping away from familiar environments to rediscover what becomes possible when curiosity guides unstructured time.
The experience reinforced that authentic artistic development requires both dedicated practice and periodic renewal. Technical skill develops through consistent studio work, but creative vitality depends on occasional departures from routine—moments when established patterns can be questioned and new possibilities explored.
For artists managing multiple responsibilities, these retreats needn't be elaborate or expensive. The key elements—solitude, unstructured time, and freedom from external demands—can be cultivated in various ways. What matters is recognizing when creative practice requires this kind of renewal and making space for it to occur.
Zero Foot Hills provided the perfect context for this kind of regenerative work. The prints and material studies created there continue influencing current studio investigations, but the week's primary value lay in restored creative confidence and renewed curiosity about material possibilities.
The experimental work from this residency continues developing in my studio. For updates on how these investigations evolve into finished pieces, connect via newsletter or social media.