Today we’d like to introduce you to Addie Moore

Hi Addie, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.

I don’t know how to answer when people ask me how I started making art because I have always been making it. As a kid, I loved creating things: drawing, sewing, making little puppets, and digging in the backyard for clay to make little animals. Not much has changed. I am still obsessed with the act of play in my work, always trying something new and getting a little messy. Despite always having this creative drive, it has taken many years of therapy, unlearning, and self-discovery to overcome the fear of sharing my artwork with the world. It is wildly courageous to share your artwork with others: I make my art to process emotions and overcome challenges in my day-to-day life, so sharing my work feels very scary at times. Through self-love and reflection, I have learned the importance of letting others into my world. I know that allowing others to see and appreciate my work brings them joy, although it still evokes anxiety, the fear of rejection, and perfectionism. I still struggle with imposter syndrome, but I’m learning that so many people, creatives and otherwise, struggle with this.

We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?

I struggle to allow myself to rest, and my self-doubt tricks me into thinking I need to prove that I’m worthy based on my productivity. I have to remember that taking care of myself is part of progress. I was reminded the hard way this year. I have spent much of this year in pain. This spring, my hands became heavy and numb, stinging, but I ignored it; I couldn’t stop working. I’d painted and installed three exhibition spaces, built an enormous sculpture, and was schlepping heavy items from place to place (I think many artists can relate to all the hats we wear). I was doing everything, working when exhausted, and pushing myself through 12-hour days to get “everything” done. I kept thinking this was maybe normal or it would eventually go away by chance or some miraculous healing.

One day, after working in the studio despite the pain, I went home to cook dinner and I couldn’t break asparagus. I felt a jolt of pain and suddenly couldn’t hold anything anymore, dropping the whole bunch in the sink. It was terrifying. I suddenly couldn’t do much of anything without severe pain.

I had to start asking for help, something I’ve always struggled to do. I had to spend all of May resting my hands, saying no to projects, opting out to lifting things at work, and relying on my loved ones to help me do daily things like grocery shop. My dexterity was down by 70% – I couldn’t draw- and I found it challenging to hold chopsticks, something I’ve always been very proud of being *~pretty *~ good at. This was not because of pain but because I couldn’t get my fingers to work properly. I have spent months trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, getting poked and prodded for nerve issues, blood tests, and a lot of acupuncture with minimal progress. I was devastated but had to learn a real lesson about slowing down. I had to allow myself time to heal.

Now, months later, with the right physical therapist in my pocket, lots of stretches, and gym visits, I feel like myself again. My body is reminding me daily to slow down, only allowing me to work so many hours before reminding me to stop for the day and stretch. It is still challenging, this mental struggle, but I have to remember daily that my worth is not defined by my productivity, despite my brain telling me otherwise.

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?

I am a maximalist at heart. I love color, learning new processes, and drawing on everything. My practice is interdisciplinary and encompasses ceramics, paper-mache sculpture, mixed media, and digital illustration. I’m also passionate about my community and have been a visual arts educator for 10+ years. I love creating and implementing community educational programs.

I approach my practice as an act of play and personal reflection, often like a diary, recording landscapes of experiences and personal struggles with memory, anxiety, emotional recovery, neurodivergence, and escapism. I also love the storytelling aspects of illustration and enjoy transporting those engaging with my art to other worlds and emotional landscapes.

My process is responsive, guided by my previous actions created on the materials, following intuition to balance and develop the compositions. Utilizing resists, responsive printmaking techniques, and physical texture, I embed my artworks with memories of moments passed, missed, or misremembered. Through layering, color, and illustration, I aim to harness emotion and distort memory, inviting my viewers to reflect on the complexities of the human experience. My art illustrates my life, an ongoing exploration of experiences and self-discovery.

Some recent projects I’m particularly excited about are a children’s book collaboration about being yourself, creating lesson plans and coloring sheets for the National Portrait Gallery (Smithsonian Institution), a custom set of playing cards for friends getting married filled with symbols of their love (<3 <3 <3), some wall-hung paper-mache mixed media sculptures for an upcoming exhibition, and a set of salt and pepper shakers I made for myself of my dogs.

Risk taking is a topic that people have widely differing views on – we’d love to hear your thoughts.

Naturally, I am a bit risk-averse, but I have learned that pushing myself beyond my limits has only brought growth and reward. My most recent big risk was moving across the country and leaving classroom teaching. During the early days of COVID, I lived in Texas and worked as a high school art teacher. I spent evenings running artist meetups and guerilla-style art events with my friends. Returning to in-person learning in the fall of 2020 was a challenging experience for me. I found my values no longer aligned with my school’s leadership, I could not run events that felt safe anymore, and I felt like I needed a change. I knew I wanted to work in the arts, but the job prospects in my hometown were close to none. I chose to move across the country to seek a different path for myself. It’s been a fruitful experience, full of growth, community, and opportunity. DC is an exciting city with room to grow. Many incredible and passionate people are working to make this city a place where art is created and celebrated. I’m proud to be part of a community that pushes to create more space for art.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://addiethenomad.com
• Instagram: https://instagram.com/addiethenomad

Image Credits

Portrait of me by Kat Sotolongo – https://thekatalogue.com/