Julia Harrison

2021 
Museum of Art and Design Virtual Artist-in-Residence
Jake Rusher Park Public Art Project
World Wood Day 

2020 
2 + U 2nd Ave Lobby
World Wood Day 
City of Issaquah Tibbetts Valley Off-Leash Dog Park
City of Durham Pre-Qualified Artist Registry
BASE Cohort
Bothell Fire Station 42
Artist Trust Fellowship
South King County Recycling Center 
Harris Building Interior Art
Tokyo Biennial
Haystack Open Studio Residency 
Jacksonville Medical Lobby Sculptural Installation

2019
World Wood Day 
Artist Designed Infrastructure Bioretention Edition
Seattle Metals Guild Grant

2018 
Jakob Bengel Residency

2017
Shunpike/Amazon Residency
AJF Grant
Bloedel Residency
Amara Mural
Seattle Center Winterfest

2016 
Bloedel Residency
Olson Kundig Creative Exchange
Jakob Bengel Residency

2015
Seattle Public Utilities Green Infrastructure and Waterways Artist-in-Residence
Smithsonian Artist Research Fellowship
Rome Prize
Kohler Residency
Artist Trust Fellowship
Seattle Airport Concourse

2014
Artist Trust GAP Grant

2013 
Artist Trust EDGE Program
Houston Center for Craft Residency
Appalachian Center for Craft Exhibition
Artist Trust GAP Grant

2012 
Artbridge Fellowship
Artist Trust GAP Grant

2011 
Henry Radford Hope School of Fine Arts PIVA

2009 
McColl Residency
Artbridge Fellowship

A few times in my career, another artist has done me the tremendous kindness of pulling back the curtain on a truth that isn’t normally part of polite conversation. There was: the professional artist who spelled out how her pricing formula covers her economic bases and adds an emotional surcharge; the super-successful artist who spoke candidly about the mad paddling it took to keep all her ducks afloat; and the former peer group who listened to my struggles but admitted they couldn’t really identify because they had “married well.”

I am so thankful to each of these artists! In each case their honesty and openness helped me to see my own situation with more patience and clarity. 

I’ve been thinking about these lessons even more frequently since I began to tell people about being a Penland Resident. There has been a tremendous amount of support and enthusiasm, but I’ve also heard and sensed some deflation from people who contrast my little spike of success with whatever’s going on for them. I can feel this deflation second-hand because I’ve so often felt it first-hand, the sense that opportunities are finite and not for me. I’d like to take a turn at pulling back the curtain, so that anyone inclined to comparisons at least has more to work with than the shiny surface of a public achievement. 

So I’m publishing a list of those times that I swung and missed. I think of it as a “shadow CV,” an inverse of my actual accomplishments without which those accomplishments would not exist. (If you do take a look at it anytime soon, note that I am working backwards through my records, so my shadow CV will continue to grow.)

This is not false humility or self-deprecation. It isn’t a “poor me” ploy for sympathy. It’s not my version of “when I was your age I walked fifty miles to the studio and it was uphill both ways.” It isn’t sour grapes. These “failures” are their own kind of achievement and I’m proud of them. 

If you are also an artist or someone whose career revolves around rejection, there are some great reasons to keep a list of your unsuccessful efforts: 

1. Should your business take a loss, these applications are evidence of profit motive—an important distinction between businesses and hobbies
2. Many of these applications are annual, so you’ll be reminded what to circle back to, and you’ll have a solid starting point should you choose to apply again
3. Just like the wood chips piling up under a carving, your shadow CV is proof that you are doing something even when it might feel or appear otherwise 
4. You can see more clearly how your concept of your career has evolved 
5. You’ll gain a better understanding of how to structure, schedule, and bill for your working hours

And if you have a shadow CV, there is a great reason to share it with others in your field, particularly those who are getting starting or those who are struggling: 

1. It’s the truth

The Windgate ITE Fellowship allowed me to play at both ends of the scale,  incorporating my jewelry forms into architectural elements as well as exploring jewelry inspired by furniture and architecture. 

This brooch is carved from basswood and is based on the fan-like pattern of iris leaves. 

I'd been thinking about this little guy for a long time, and finally had the chance to figure him out during my Windgate ITE residency.  His body is turned dogwood and legs are maple stained with ink and hinged with watchband spring bars.