Overwhelmed by Abundance
A lesson from the studio on navigating endless possibilities, crowded inboxes, and a shifting creative rhythm.
Overwhelmed by Abundance
For the past several days I have been sorting through what I thought was a relatively small collection of paper I gathered from the walls of European cities this past spring. Posters, fragments of advertisements, weathered papers, torn typography, bits of color, accidental compositions. I had stuffed them into a few envelopes and ziplock bags and carried them home thinking, “There isn’t really that much here.”
I was wrong. As I spread everything out and began organizing it into categories, the true scale of what I had collected slowly revealed itself. Every handful became several more. Every stack became a pile. Every pile suggested hundreds of future collages.
At some point I found myself feeling something unexpected. I felt overwhelmed by the possibilities.
It struck me that this is a peculiar stage in an artist’s life. Early on we imagine that if only we had more materials, more opportunities, more ideas, more books, more time, more space, everything would become easier. It does and it doesn’t. Abundance introduces an entirely different challenge. It widens the horizons, forcing reorientation. Every sheet of paper quietly asks to become something, carrying a possibility that suggests an invisible obligation. Every beautiful fragment seems to deserve a future.
The imagination immediately begins calculating. How many works could these materials become? How many years of work are sitting here? What combinations have I not yet imagined? Will I ever reach the bottom of the pile?
Of course the answer is that I probably won’t. And that is perfectly fine. I realized that I was unconsciously assuming responsibility for the entire collection, as though I had somehow entered into an agreement to use every scrap. But there was never such an agreement.
The papers are simply waiting. Some may become collages next week. Others may wait ten years before they reveal where they belong. Some may never be used at all. Unlike a chef, a collage artist does not have to worry about things going rotten. I like to work with materials that can collect dust. In fact, most of these materials have already collected dust, survived sun, wind, rain, mold, graffiti and been buried under other layers for weeks or months before I excavated them. They have acquired character and patina. Their value is not diminished by waiting but increased by it.
Nature operates this way. A forest produces millions of seeds knowing that only a fraction will become trees. Rivers carry stones that may wait centuries before becoming smooth. Museums preserve countless objects that may spend generations in storage before someone discovers exactly why they mattered.
Abundance is not demanding immediate action. Only our anxiety makes it feel that way. Better to see these materials as a library rather than a to-do list. Libraries are not read in a single lifetime. Archives are not exhausted. Gardens are not harvested all at once. Their purpose is simply to be available when the right moment arrives. Instead of seeing an impossible mountain of future work, I can simply see tomorrow’s work - and tomorrow is a very long time…
New Publishing Program
As I sat there looking at these endless stacks of paper, it occurred to me that I have fallen into a similar trap with my writing right here on this platform. Over the course of my time on Substack, my daily studio and writing practice has generated an abundance of text - over 800 posts to date. Because the writing engine never seems to burn out, I have been broadcast-mailing these reflections multiple times a week, sometimes daily.
But just like the piles of European street papers on my desk, an abundance of content introduces an entirely different challenge. It creates an invisible obligation for the recipient. I realize that a daily email is a lot to ask of a reader’s attention, and a crowded inbox quickly turns an invitation into a to-do list. I don’t want to wear my readers out, nor do I want to force an artificial hustle onto a space meant for contemplation.
Recognizing the next right move means learning not to panic in the face of limitless possibilities. It means structuring the flow.
And by the way, to give your inbox a much-needed breather while protecting my own creative momentum, I am shifting the rhythm of this publication. Moving forward, I am consolidating our email delivery to one comprehensive, dedicated essay like this, sent once a week - maybe on Tuesdays or Thursdays.
My daily fragments of thought, raw studio sketches, typographic observations, and process notes will move entirely over to the Substack Notes feed. This adjustment keeps your email inbox clean and spacious, allowing the weekly work to breathe on its own, while offering a low-stakes, real-time space for us to interact daily without triggering a constant email alert.
The collage papers are patient, they have already waited on city walls and crossed countries folded inside luggage; they can certainly wait quietly in the studio until the right moment calls them forward. Perhaps this is another lesson that comes with a long life in the studio. Scarcity teaches us to appreciate opportunities. Abundance teaches us how to pace ourselves so we can actually inhabit them.
And our writing and reading practice can be patient, too. Instead of clogging up you inbox with textual abundance I am shifting to this weekly schedule to give you, my dear readers, enough breathing room for you to have the time to read these posts by reducing the frequency. If you want more there are many articles that I am sure you have not read or would like to read again on the Touchonian website as I mentioned in a previous post.
The work has never been to conquer all the possibilities. The work is to recognize the next single step, and answer the call when it comes.
Read on the Web for the Full Experience
This publication is built to be an active, open dialogue, not a silent broadcast. If you are reading this inside your email client, the interactive community features are clipped. Please click through to the live website layout to join the conversation. I for one would love to hear your thoughts and I will respond.
Join the Web Conversation & Leave a Comment
Join the Conversation: When you find yourself facing an overwhelming abundance - whether it is raw material in your workspace, ideas in your head, or media in your daily life - how do you intentionally narrow your focus to just the “next right choice” without panicking? Let’s discuss in the comments.
Creativity Itself is Abundance.
Today is my first day back in my studio after being on a seven week collage expedition. I exceeded my goal of making three collages on average a day for the whole forty-nine days I was gone.