A Letter From The Editor

Exploring grief, mourning, and exhaustion in relation with creative work and practice. 

By Tom Jakob | 8/1/24

Dear reader,


We’ve been doing art grove for a year now, and in that time the project has changed in numerous ways. When we first began in July of last year, this whole project started out as an idea for a Substack, which we quickly realized would not be the means through which we would achieve our ultimate ends. In the time since then, many more things have changed, for instance, the timing of which this letter from the editor is released. From henceforth, Art Grove Newsletter is following a new publishing schedule. Our full newsletter will continue to be published monthly, but rather than releasing on the first day of every month with all components prepared, it will come piecemeal. From now on, this letter from the editor will serve as a “sneak preview” of what is to come 14 days later. So, let’s get into it…


…Returning to my original thought, Art Grove has grown in many ways and shrunk in some others. But something else worth mentioning is the way in which it has stayed the same, which is to say that we have maintained a consistent goal throughout this whole process: To break down the barriers of entry into the arts world with free and practical advice. This is, after all, the ultimate goal of Art Grove not just as a monthly publication but wholly as an organization as well.


In our short but exciting lifetime as an arts publication, we’ve explored a lot of different ideas simply within the theme of each issue, let alone the contents of each story included in an issue. Some have been very direct in their connection with arts careership while others that have been a little more ambiguous. This month, we examine the issue of grief, which is a topic I have quite a bit of familiarity with as a person who has unfortunately been to a lot more funerals than weddings. As such, I leapt at the opportunity to write this month’s letter from the editor. But when it came time to actually sit down and write the thing, I kept coming up blank.


Now, I cannot quite recall when or how Betsy and I came up with the idea to do an issue about grief, much less can I remember why we chose to do it for August of 2024. We first planned a whole year’s worth of issues months ago and are still working through some ideas. But perhaps through the intentions of a divine force or just sheer luck, the job to write this letter nevertheless falls upon me at an interesting time, even if it coincides with some ephemeral exhaustion.


Last month, Betsy and I moved from our apartment in downtown Richmond to the Museum District. Our previous apartment was about half the size of our new place, which is located in a neighborhood with far more businesses, historic architecture, tree shade, and overall conviviality amongst residents. Our new apartment also has outdoor space –– a luxury we did not previously have at all. All these factors have made many aspects of everyday life easier, like caring for my dog, Otter, who can now sit out on a porch for stimulation throughout the day. With all of these things that were once merely desires now fulfilled, I ought to slip right into this new way of life. But in truth, it has taken some adjustments for myself, Betsy, and especially Otter. A large one for me has been the extended commute to and from work, which is now about four times the length. 


To make it easier, I drive past our old apartment every morning on my way into the office. As I shoot east down Franklin Street and swing right onto North 1st Street, I wave at my old building and wish it a good morning. It’s silly, I know. But it’s helped in some small, if not cathartic and sustaining way.


So, naturally, while I was driving into work the other morning and thinking about what I’d write this month’s letter from the editor about, I finally realized that I had been mourning the loss of my old apartment for about half a month without even realizing my grief.


The concept of grief is about more than just getting over somebody’s death. It is recognizing the impermanence of everything. Grieving is realizing you cannot ever go back down a road you previously traveled regularly. Grieving is the emotional byproduct of change as a result of loss. And I specifically believe that grieving specifically is the act of recognizing this, even if that recognition does not translate into immediate action. 


I did not know this until I began typing this month’s letter, but there is a difference between grief and mourning. In psychological terms, grief refers to our internal feelings in response to changes in our lives. Mourning, on the other hand, refers to our outward expression of those internal feelings, which could include anything from holding or attending a funeral to driving past your old apartment every morning. For the sake of exploring the topic, grief is the why and mourning is the what. It’s easy enough to say that painting an image of your friend who passed helped you process his death. It’s much harder to explain why it helped. 


We do not have much control over how we grieve, but we do have a great deal of control over how we mourn. The way in which we process and come to terms with a major change is almost always a conscious decision we make, at least to some level. Poe, Hemingway, and other tortured artists have led many of us to buy into the myth of some genius taking a few shots of absinthe and having a few strokes of genius. But it’s truly a myth –– maybe for some people self-destruction has presented a path towards healing, but for most of us it does quite the opposite. I speak for myself when I say that the art I create while not of my sharpest mind or instinct is always considerably worse than the art I create while facing reality sober and honest.


In past issues, I usually try to close my letters with advice that is related to the issue. But in other past issues, I’ve also written about how much I despise the tortured artist archetype. In this case, it would feel like a direct encouragement towards the path of the tortured artist by suggesting a person dig deep into their artistic practice while grieving. And yet at the same time, so much incredible art has been made as someone’s way of mourning. To both recognize your grief and mourn it in a public manner is to be incredibly vulnerable with the world while already in recovery from its constant flux. And that is what makes me so excited to share this upcoming issue of Art Grove Newsletter with the world: It is going to be an incredibly brave issue.


Grief is a perfectly fine inspiration of art, so long as it is a healthy act of mourning for the artist. Oftentimes, our greatest triumphs, lessons learned and otherwise “canon moments,” as the youngsters like to call them, come during those moments of immense changes. I believe our upcoming issue of Art Grove will do a great job of exploring this idea, and to do so, we will be publishing several fascinating and highly sensitive stories. This includes an upcoming story from Creative Director Betsy Podsiadlo about Leanne Tibiatowski, a California-based grief counselor who uses her passion for art and surfing to help others work through losses in their lives. Staff Writer Sarah J. Gill is working on a feature that will detail the story of the musician behind San Antonio’s “Ston the Band”. And Richmond-based musician Cole Sullivan is writing a reflective piece about his experience as an artist after experiencing difficult health issues.


My hope is that readers, and especially those who are actively grieving at the moment, will be able to walk away from these incredibly intimate stories with a bit of hope and altered perspectives on their own stories. To be sure, this issue is not a call to action like some others in the past have been. We are not encouraging anybody to work out their grief in any manner other than what is most comfortable to them. We are simply trying to take a moment to remind our readers that they are not alone. And given the state of the world right now, I think we all deserve to be told that.


–Tom Jakob, Managing Editor