Annika Morrill in Conversation with Visual Artist, Maker, & Musician, Hannah Tarkinson
Hannah Tarkinson is a force of creative energy operating out of Portland, Maine in the US. She continuously evolves as a creative, from musician to photographer to jeweller, and finally, in her latest evolution, to a remarkable visual artist of assemblage/collage pieces. When referring to herself she uses the term ‘maker,’ because, in all of her creative practices, she makes. This verb is her constant.
The pandemic saw Tarkinson go through remarkable grief and transformation when she lost her father, whom she was a long-term caregiver for, and went through several health diagnoses. Despite all of this, she continued to create.
Eager to delve into her creative history and the nuts and bolts of her practice, we sat down with Tarkinson to discuss the power of meditation, being NFT-curious, the alchemy of grief, and letting go of ‘the hustle.’
Hannah Tarkinson.
Annika Morrill: I’m curious if you could speak a little bit about why you chose to make the jump from ‘maker’ and musician to visual artist?
Hannah Tarkinson: I started my fine jewellery and leather goods company Ponomo in 2001, and it’s been exciting and all-consuming ever since. Ponomo has fed much of my creative drive and time over the past twenty-one years and I’ve loved every minute of it. Music, however, has always been my deepest passion since early childhood. I grew up in a musical household with my father being a musician as well. From sixteen years old, I’ve played in various bands. I also considered trying to have a career as a musician, but I wasn’t sure if I truly wanted that lifestyle. I landed on doing both [music and jewellery making] but only making a career out of jewellery and leatherwork while keeping music as my passion. Still writing and performing but with no pressure. Once I became a mother, it became a balancing act of time and priorities. Music continues to be the passion that feeds my spirit, and while Ponomo does as well, it’s also my source of income and therefore more demanding. I studied photography in college and have always made art in my downtime, but once my career was underway there wasn’t a lot of it. I never felt the need to share my visual art with others. So much of what I do with Ponomo and my music is out in the public eye, it was nice to have my art as a quiet and private experience. In 2015, my father Doug Sholl was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease and I became one of his primary caretakers. It was heartbreaking, soul mending, and an unbelievably exhausting time in my life.
Between juggling two kids, a marriage, my father’s and mother’s needs, my business, my music, and beyond, it was a lot. I found that I needed an outlet amidst the liminal space, the grief, and life’s many demands…I needed more solace. While music was absolutely a part of that, I found that I needed a soundless release that didn't have a beginning or an end. I began a meditation practice which helped me beyond measure and I began creating assemblages/collages from the hand-tooled leather and metal that I had initially created for my jewellery and leatherwork. I had no deadline or ‘hustle’ for this practice; no right or wrong, no expectations, and no one to make happy. It was exactly what I needed to survive the liminal space of my father’s slow burn of a decline and the unbearable heartbreak that came with loving him while having a front-row seat in the caretaking role.
As I’d bring my finished work into my work studio, clients would see it and comment and eventually ask to purchase it. I had never intended to sell my work, but I also didn't feel the need to keep it once it was completed, so I decided to see how it went. When my father passed away, I began to prioritise my art more. After years of caretaking, my body, mind, and heart needed to rest.
Hannah Tarkinson, Holy Rest.
AM: Could you speak briefly about your creative process as a practice? What sets you off to begin work on a new piece? What sorts of materials are you incorporating? How do you source them?
HT: My creative process has evolved over the years. For the past eight years until now, I begin with meditation before I create. It's my way of ensuring that ego is out of the equation–there’s no room for ego on the canvas. From that point forward, everything that comes through me post-meditation, I trust. I gain inspiration from living a full life. Anything and everything inspire me. I was fortunate to be raised by a poet and a musician, so creative inspiration and outlets were often discussed in my household. I don’t necessarily sketch or have a thorough plan for my art before I dive in. I’ll often get clear on the colours or the materials or the feeling I want to express and then the piece evolves as I go. I relish in the creative freedom of creating without limits. Some days I’ll spend hours in the studio hand-tooling leather and metal and then will cut it all up to create pieces and parts to use in my work as I see fit. This is similar to my jewellery process sans the wearability. I don’t limit the materials that I work with, but some of the most common ones are hand-tooled, dyed, or stained leather, acrylic paint, mixed textiles, metal, and photographs. I source most of my materials from my studio as I’ve collected random vintage textiles for years. I try to use recycled material as much as possible like salvaged leather, recycled metal, and used vintage and antique textiles.
AM: What, if anything, about your ‘maker,’ jewellery, and musician practices did you carry over into your art-making?
HT: Much of my jewellery, leather, and music practices are like my visual art practice. Meditation first, then I create pieces and parts which I then layer into bigger assemblages, be it wearable, audible, or visual on a wall.
Hannah Tarkinson, A House in the Sky.
AM: As a follow up to this, you have spoken about your work as a meditative practice. Has this changed at all during the pandemic? Has it become even more of a poignant practice?
HT: Meditation has truly saved my ass. There’s no other way to put it. Having learned the practice of releasing 99.9% of my thoughts was life-changing. Maintaining that practice amidst the pandemic (and any stressful time in life) has been lifesaving. During the pandemic, I lost my father to COVID-19, I discovered that I had chronic Lyme Disease shortly after that, and I’ve been out of work on and off for several months with a Lyme flare. I was uncertain if my business would survive the pandemic and my health issues, and all along, I had this practice in place that enabled me to release all my fearful thoughts and stay 100% present. I was dealing with such little energy and such great dizziness, but I had moments where I could sit and make art. The combination of my meditation and art practices during this time has been my life raft.
AM: Did you ever suspect that your meditative practice would become such a defining point of your career? Was it off-putting at all to have people so interested in your way of coping with your own personal realities?
HT: Once I started meditating, it became the most important tool in my toolbox and it enhanced every aspect of my life. Life is hard. And humans think a lot throughout the course of a day. To be able to erase 99.9% of my thoughts seriously is an amazing feat! It creates so much space for creativity to bloom. To be released from anxiety and the tendency to distract myself, and move into a more focused, productive headspace with the ability to set boundaries and to let go of the people, places, and things that drain my energy. People in my life noticed the changes in me. The calmness and focused drive that I had was palatable. People were curious about what changes I was making. I was happy to share my meditation journey because it was so generously shared with me at a time in my life when I desperately needed a change. I’m not one to tell others what to do with their life, but if my experience can help someone, I’m happy to share it.
One specific part of my meditation journey that I want to share here is that it took me 20 years to find a practice that worked for me. I had so many misconstrued beliefs about it that I never felt like I could do it successfully. The most potent belief I had was that meditation was the absence of thinking, so every time I’d sit to meditate, thoughts would run on a steady mindstream in my head. I’d get so discouraged and feel like a failure. I’d end up feeling more anxious afterwards, concluding that it just wasn’t for me. Once I understood that thoughts arising is as much a part of meditation as letting go of those thoughts is, it stuck.
Hannah Tarkinson, Liminal Space in Bloom.
AM: Your practice is wildly personal to your own inner workings as a human being, and art-making, in general, is so wildly personal. Do you think every artist experiences a bit of a dilemma exposing their inner workings to the public? Especially given your background in ‘making’ and music.
HT: I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, this is another example of why meditation is the first thing I do before I dive into anything creative. It eliminates any overthinking and the fear of public opinion.
AM: Your assemblages take on a very dreamscape and surrealist feel while also seeming almost altar-like at times. Is this an intentional aesthetic choice or is this just the style that you have allowed to evolve?
HT: Thank you! I’ve never consciously planned my creative aesthetic or style. I like what I like when I see it. Other than that, I don’t think about it. I get so in the zone of creating art, that the outcome can surprise me too when all is said and done.
Hannah Tarkinson, After Dark in Bloom.
AM: Your work deals directly with an incredibly human conditional transformation, turning grief into hope. In the context of the pandemic, have you found the message of your work to have grown even more important?
HT: The pandemic has been a time of deep grief, rest, healing, and inner growth. I’m still in this process, and it’s most definitely influenced my current artwork. I think that comes through in this body of work more than ever, especially in my music. After making music with bands my whole life, I’m working on my first solo album–a tribute to my father–and I’m simultaneously working on a body of artwork that will accompany each song on the album, so there will be both audible and visual elements that will penetrate in different ways.
Detail of After Dark in Bloom.
AM: How wonderful! Speaking of the marriage between the visual and technology, a bit of a stretch, but do you have any thoughts on the recent NFT craze? Do you feel like this type of work, which deals so closely with the human experience, is disappearing? Or do you think there will be a resurgence of interest?
HT: I’m just now pondering the NFT world and how I feel about it. My art is seeded, rooted and will always grow first and foremost in the garden of human experience. It’s just who I am. Real life is what inspires me. I’m not anti-NFT. I’m NFT-curious. [Especially] if there’s a way to hybrid the two worlds. I’ll be staying curious for a while.
AM: ‘NFT-curious,’ I love that phrase! Your most recent visual art show took place during the Covid-19 pandemic. Are you hopeful for more shows? Perhaps even a solo show soon to accompany your solo album and corresponding works?
HT: Yeah, what a gift that show was. It came two months after my father died and we had to have a virtual opening. It was lovely to have a place to show the art that carried me through the journey with my father. I plan to have a solo show for both my album and the artwork that I’m making now. I’d love to have more in the future. My main objectives in showing my art, at this point, are to offer hope in the alchemy of grief and to leave the door open for other artists as I go.
Hannah Tarkinson, Reservoir.
AM: Where do you see yourself going from here? Any inclinations on what the next five years will look like?
HT: I can feel that this is a pivotal time of change in my life. I don’t know what exactly that means just yet, but I can feel it and I’m excited for what’s to come. Over the past couple of years, my health demanded that I hustle less and get more intentional with how I spent my time. It was so freeing to let go of the hustle. While it is vague to say, I’m not sure where I’m going from here but I’m making plans to create more space and time for visual art.
Thanks to Hannah Tarkinson on behalf of MADE IN BED.
Annika Morrill
Interviews Editor, MADE IN BED