How To Stay Faithful To The Artist's Heart, Even When The Path Remains Uncertain

Anita Duggal, artist in residence, Puebla, Mexico, Jan 2024

Long before 'artist in residence' was in my vocabulary...

When I was a teenager, growing up in West Drayton, West London, my mates and I would hang around the airport for fun. On weekends, evenings after school, or whenever we had a half day, we would dash to arrivals and immerse ourselves in the hubbub. 

Our favourite thing was to stand at the WH Smith concession, our backs against the spinning magazine racks, close enough to feel the rolling rush of passengers and cabin crew without getting swept up in the chaos.

I came alive at Heathrow. I soaked up each transient detail, pointing out the clothes, the possessions, the brands; all indicators of culture and class. The passengers carried their stories like codes, and I wanted to decipher them all. 

I hoped that somewhere amongst the fantasy lives I dreamed up for the seas of unknown faces, I would find some excitement for me. I was certain I wanted my life to contain two things: travel and artistic exploration, but I had no idea how to achieve either. Only the airport buzzed with the kind of potential and discovery I was yearning for, so after my GCSEs, the next logical step was to take my first part-time job working in retail at Terminal 3.

The dazzling land of duty-free did not disappoint. The passengers gleamed with an almost celebrity status, and I felt privileged to be part of a nurturing and supportive team, but for all the thrills, I knew I couldn’t stay at Heathrow for the long term; I wanted to be an artist, and so many questions rolled around my head: 

How can I create success with art?

What is the measure of success with art, anyway?

Is success measured by the money we make, or is it based on how you feel when you create something wonderful?

I had been relying on my media studies course at the college to give me some answers, but it wasn’t so simple. I graduated, started several jobs, attended dozens of job fairs and as many interviews, but that creative spark I was searching for, equal to the high of the airport, remained elusive. I returned to Heathrow and took a full-time position.

Then in 2007, an opportunity finally piqued my interest. The British organisation European Training Services, facilitators of transnational work exchanges, offered me an internship in Prague working alongside the editor of a local magazine, and that summer, I flew out for my first travel adventure.

From the moment I landed, the city fizzed with freedom and potential. For three glorious months, I explored the exquisite architecture and food along with twelve other interns from the UK, Italy, and Poland. We joked that the beer was cheaper than water and united in our desire to make the most of this extraordinary creative opportunity.

It turned out that the magazine needed a photographer as the official photographer was on leave. With so much responsibility, I learned fast, and my confidence soared as the editor took my ideas on board. Prague was like a beautiful model bending to my every wish. With her gothic spires, centuries-old bridges, and patchwork buildings of pastel and terracotta, I marvelled at how effortless it all was.

Sadly, the internship was over before I knew it, and I plummeted from the creative heights of a fairy tale world back into a ‘real’ job, organising events in a business centre in the UK.

Keen not to lose momentum, I took IT courses and attended photography workshops, looking for ways to earn a living with my camera, but in 2008, the economy crashed, along with my mental health. There was nothing for it but to fast-track my way out of the country.

In 2009, the volunteer website Idealist.org led me to the charity Volunteers for Rural India, a two-person organisation recruiting English teachers for the village of Amarpur Kashi in Uttar Pradesh, northern India. I brought my camera, and the charity’s founders asked me to take photos to promote their campaign for reducing pollution in the village. I was proud when my images of harmful factories appeared in their newsletter and magazine, and eventually contributed to their partial closure. I continued to work as a trustee for the charity for many years after I returned to the UK.

Once again, back in London, I took another ‘real job’, with Ealing Council as an Assistant in Education, Leisure and Libraries, and it was a few years before the inspiration for my next project came from an unexpected source.  

The Ealing Village is a Grade II listed estate of apartments and houses in West London, famed for its 1930s Dutch colonial-style architecture and Art Deco interiors. I moved there in 2013, and by sheer coincidence, found that one of the interns I had met in Prague was also a resident. It wasn’t long before I felt an overwhelming call to start a photography project around the development, and as soon as I committed to making the idea a reality, a series of delightful events began to unfold.

I distributed leaflets in the community asking for subjects to photograph in their homes, and to my utter surprise, several people agreed. Through the website Internwise, I found Lauren, a recent photography graduate, brimming with ideas for my concept of capturing residents in the style of New York photographer Cindy Sherman, famous for her ‘film stills’ projects from the 70s and early 80s.

The Ealing Village committee willingly contributed a small amount of money towards the cost of exhibiting the photos in the clubhouse, and a local estate agent provided the rest in exchange for sponsorship. On the evening of the exhibition, my friend was the DJ, family and work colleagues attended, and as a final surprise, I sold some photographs.

Every morning for the six months it had taken to complete the project, I had woken up energised and inspired; it had been a total reinvention of myself, but once again, when it was over, there was no obvious place to channel the same energy. Even more determined than ever to find inspiration abroad, I spent the next year studying for a TEFL course in my spare time. 

Over the next few years, I taught adults with a charity in London and nearly took a job in China, but my gut instinct held me back. I became a ‘volunteer grower’ at Mind Food, a local garden charity where I practised mindfulness and maintained their allotment once a week. I found inspiration there, drawing, painting, and taking photographs. I quit the nine-to-five to work at a festival catering company and rediscovered the buzz of customer interactions and the joy of physical labour. I became excited about a possible shift in the direction of my life when the pandemic hit, and suddenly, I was alone and struggling to cope in my flat.

Furlough and some online teaching saw me through to the end of 2020, but my mental health was at an all-time low; I needed to leave the UK and based my next move solely on finding the country with the fewest travel restrictions. In early 2021, I flew out to begin my first paid teaching job at a private school in Mexico City.

After nearly a year of isolation, scaremongering, growing paranoia, and distrust, Mexico was a balm to heal my anxious heart. I felt cradled by her carefree and bustling way of life. Colour oozed from every pore; the buildings, the weather, the food, the rhythm of voices; loud, direct, and laid back. Mexicans would do anything for you, even if it took ten times longer than you would expect. I was eternally grateful for the experience. 

My teaching placement ended after four months, but I was nowhere near ready to go home. A student invited me to stay with her family, which turned out to be three large families living together in one house. Meal times were chaotic, deafening, and my favourite part of the day. I revelled in the unleashed humanness of it all. 

One night, I woke up feeling like I was experiencing a migraine. My feet tumbled forward as I stepped out of my bed, and suddenly, a knocking on the door urged me through the shadowy corridor. The hanging pans in the kitchen swayed violently as I zig-zagged up to the top floor and huddled with the rest of the house until it was over. This was my first experience of an earthquake, and I hated it.

I found a job through the Workaway website and moved in with a family in Tlaxcala as a babysitter and English teacher in exchange for free lodging. When my visa ran out, I flew to Guatemala.

The stunning rainforest-covered mountains of the Sierra Madre in the UNESCO World Heritage site of Antigua were my backdrop for the next month as I earned my keep in the San Marina hostel, working the bar, organising the entertainment, and taking photos for social media. I welcomed the New Year at the breathtaking Lake Atitlan and flew back to Mexico. 

Over the next few months, I experienced wonderful and awful schools in Teracan, returned to the family in Tlaxcala City to teach online, and then spent a month meditating and practising yoga at a retreat in Mexico City. Next, I accepted the offer of lodging at the family home of one of the retreat's students, where I continued tutoring online. From there, I moved to a hotel in Mexico City to decompress and explore the city for a while before finally heading back to the UK. 

I arrived home after thirteen months away, thoroughly exhausted, elated, and irrevocably changed.

My sole focus now was to figure out how I could return to Mexico.

I had heard about art residency programs over the years and decided this was my route. Art residencies are carefully created spaces for artists to work and develop, removed from life’s distractions. Organisations offer these spaces all over the world, but they are highly competitive. I needed to present myself as a true artist if I wanted to be successful, but first, I had to convince myself I was a true artist.

I began by surrounding myself with other creatives. I started a graphics design course, joined a local community of artists in West London, and worked as a learning support assistant for neurodiverse students studying courses at the University of the Arts London.

To fully inhabit my artist persona, I joined Tony Robbins’ famous Unleash the Power Within (UPW) personal development course that he was giving away for free online as an antidote to the effects of the pandemic.

Famous for his sometimes controversial and sometimes ridiculed personal reinvention methods, Tony’s in-person events attract thousands of people worldwide to dance, laugh, scream, and cry together, whatever it takes to unleash the untapped potential we have lying dormant within us. Tony helps people achieve their goals using the physiology of the human body.

Over a few weeks, I logged into the seminars to join thousands of others worldwide, and the energy was as strong as attending a concert from my living room; it was a total all-over-body experience. Tony guided me through resetting my nervous system as I jumped and danced, making my body believe, down into my cells, that I could achieve anything I wanted. I cried and laughed, and Tony cried; it was emotional, intense, and so much fun. By the end, I felt like I could take over the world.

With this energy of belief, I applied for a month-long art residency in Puebla, Mexico, with the Arquetopia Foundation. After two rounds of applications and two live interviews, I got it, out of 750 applicants! My Ealing Village project was pivotal in the judge’s decision. 

Now more than ever, I couldn’t lose momentum, and I spent the rest of the year preparing for Mexico. Tony Robbins talks about the importance of ‘priming’, living now as the person you want to become. Our whole body has to believe something before it can catch up with our head and see it to fruition. I began walking more, incorporating daily yoga, meditation, and gratitude.

I secured free art mentoring from a charity, which coached me on how to present myself better, how to write an artist statement, and set up a website. In September 2023, I took part in the Borough of Ealing Art Trail showcase (BEAT), where I displayed two photographs, a drawing, and a painting I completed at the Mind Food charity; I also filmed a video of myself talking about my work. 

I repeated my mantras daily: 

‘I am the artist now.’ 

‘I am a different level of artist.’

On New Year’s Eve, Dec 2023, I flew to Mexico City to spend January in the company of other travellers and photographers before heading to Puebla to begin the month-long residency.

It was so perfect, I have no words for it. In a beautiful house with artists’ studios and relaxation spaces, I experienced the luxury of focusing on nothing but creating. I felt supported and nurtured. The meals were cooked for us, and the bed was the most comfortable I have ever slept on.

Once a week, I spent hours chatting with the director during my mentoring sessions. We discussed art, creation, and spirituality to new depths. All we have, he said, was space and place, space and place, and we explored what this meant from every angle.

I had academic briefings about art history and was taken to all the museums in Puebla. I learned how to really look at things and analyse what I saw in new ways. It was like an entire art degree in one month.  

Mexico helped me uncover my purpose as an artist and unleash the energy to drive my artistic life forward. She felt so familiar and comfortable that I was sad to return home, but I was eternally grateful.

In June 2024, I started a mentorship program with the Chamber of Commerce in my area of West London and have since joined many networking events as a small business owner, the new chapter of my artistic life. 

Now I know that my definition of artistic success is freedom. Freedom to choose who I surround myself with, where I go, and what I want to do at any moment. I am not pursuing achievements with art; I am pursuing the removal of all restrictions. If I want to spend a day gardening because it feels good for me, I want to be free to make that choice. 

In my photography business, I now have one focus: to showcase authentic travel experiences and escapes. 

The theme of escapism in my work stems from the times when I have felt stuck, stagnant, and stale in jobs that have not nourished me, and I don’t want to go there again. 

∞

To contact Anita and discover more about her work, visit her website: https://bio.site/anitaduggal