I’ve been home from the IAPS Convention in Albuquerque for almost three weeks already (whaaaaat??), and I feel like I’m still unpacking!

Not just the suitcase. Although yes, there’s that too. The laundry (yes, still). The bits of paper. The notes. The photos. The videos. The “Where shall I put this?” pile that appears after any art trip (like those beads given out by one of the societies – tell me which one!). 

But really, I’m mostly still unpacking the experience.

Knowing this was the final IAPS Convention in this form gave the whole event a particular poignancy. There was the usual buzz of pastel people gathering — the demos, the exhibition, the vendor hall, the hugs, the “Oh my gosh, you’re here!” moments — but there was also a sense of taking it all in a little more consciously. This was it!

I’ve written about IAPS (the International Association of Pastel Societies) before from different angles — have a look here for an example. I’ve shared interviews, demos, artwork, and snippets of what happened. This time, I don’t want to write a “look what you missed” post. That never feels quite right, and especially not now. Instead, I’ve been thinking about what we bring back from any art gathering, because we do bring things back. Some of them travel in the suitcase. Most of them don’t.

What we bring back in our bags

Let’s begin with the obvious. We bring back the physical evidence of having been there: notes, business cards, the pastel book (yay!), goodie bags, perhaps a new pastel or two. Or twelve. Possibly a whole heap more. No judgement here.

We bring back photographs from demos, snapshots of paintings that stopped us in our tracks, selfies with friends, and little videos we hope will remind us of the special times later on. We bring back the names of artists we want to look up, surfaces we want to try, colours we suddenly feel we cannot live without.

There’s something reassuring about these tangible things. They prove the experience happened. They give us something to hold onto once the accommodation, the hotel’s convention rooms, the meeting places, and the conversations have all disappeared into memory. But of course, these are only the easiest things to see. They are not the whole of what we bring back.

What we bring back in our eyes

One of the great gifts of a gathering like the IAPS Convention is the sheer quantity of seeing.

Seeing paintings in person. Seeing pastel handled in ways you would never have thought of. Seeing one artist’s restraint with a limited palette and another artist’s full-throttle colour. Seeing delicate marks, bold marks, scumbled marks, layered marks, and marks that make you lean in closer and ask, “How on earth did they do that?”

It’s different from scrolling online. Completely different.

In person, you can feel scale. You can sense surface. You can see where the hand may have hesitated, where it committed, where the pastel was dragged, floated, whispered, or insisted upon.

And when you see so many pastel paintings together, you’re reminded again of the range of this medium. Pastel can be quiet. It can be muscular. It can be tender, wild, precise, abstract, luminous, gritty, refined, or gloriously direct. We bring back widened eyes, new possibilities, and the reminder that there isn’t one right way to be a pastel artist.

Check out the exhibition online!

What we bring back in our hands

Watching a demo is a particular kind of learning. You’re not just seeing the finished result. You’re seeing decisions unfold in the moment. You’re watching an artist begin, adjust, respond, rethink, simplify, and sometimes rescue. You see the pauses. You may see the uncertainty. You’ll certainly see the confidence. But it’s the decision-making that fascinates me.

A finished painting can look inevitable. A demo reminds us that it never is.

I came home with little sparks from demos and conversations, not necessarily whole techniques to adopt, but tiny invitations. Try this. Notice that. Be bolder here. Slow down there. Let the surface do more. Let some of the paper stay visible. Don’t tidy too soon.

Those are the things that travel back in the hands. Not instructions exactly. More like sensations. A memory of pressure. A way of holding a stick. A reminder that pastel is physical, responsive, and beautifully immediate. And perhaps that’s one reason demos stay with us. They return us to the doing. And this is triply true if you took a workshop!

What we bring back in our hearts

And then there are the people.

I came home wishing I’d taken more photos of people. Isn’t that always the way? At the time, you’re in the conversation, in the laugh, in the hug, in the moment. Later, you realise those were the things you most wanted to hold onto — and the things photos can so easily call back. I’m thinking of all the lovely people who came and thanked me for what I do in this blog and told me how it’s affected their own art journey. Magical moments for sure!

I did take some selfies. Not enough, but some. With artist friends and colleagues. With students. With Accelerant artists and IGNITErs like Vick and Shirley. With people I rarely get to see except at gatherings like this. And that, truly, is a huge part of what the IAPS Convention has given over the years. Naturally, I’m now kicking myself for the people I didn’t photograph! And those I didn’t even have a chance to chat with.

Yes, the IAPS Convention is about pastel. Yes, it’s about exhibitions, demos, supplies, and learning. But underneath all that, it’s about recognition. It’s the joy of being with people who understand why a particular paper surface matters. Who know the thrill of a colour that does exactly what you hoped it would do. Who don’t glaze over when you talk about brand specificity, about struggling with the dust, about understanding colour temperature, about the cost and complexity of framing, or the terror of shipping, or the strange emotional journey of a painting that is going well until suddenly it absolutely is not.

We artists spend so much time alone in the studio. Even those of us who teach, travel, and work with others still return to that private place of making. Just us and the work. So when we gather, something in us gets fed. We bring back encouragement, belonging, and the feeling of being part of a much larger conversation. Our hearts are full.

What we bring back from the edges

Whenever I travel for an art event, I build in a little extra time to feed my eyes and spirit in other ways. For me, that often means a museum visit. In Albuquerque, I always make time for the art museum which is only around the corner, and which, although not officially part of the IAPS Convention, felt very much part of my own experience of the trip.

I love those moments around the edges: the walk through a museum; the view from the aeroplane; the unfamiliar light of a place; the colours of the city; the textures, shadows, doors, streets of Old Town; the glorious skies, and the unexpected visual gifts that appear because you are out of your usual routine. Things like time spent with Suzanne Godbout at our shared Airbnb and the walks between it and the Hotel Albuquerque.

These things matter too. They may not be on the schedule. They may not be what you went for. But they enter the creative bloodstream all the same. All of it fills the well.

Sometimes we think inspiration comes only from the main event. But often, it seeps in from the margins: a painting glimpsed in a gallery, a conversation over coffee, a colour combination in the hotel lobby, the feeling of being somewhere else and seeing yourself, briefly, a little differently. For sure, we bring back more than what was planned.

What we bring back to the studio

You’re back home. The real question then becomes: what now?

Because there’s always that strange moment after an inspiring art experience when you arrive home, put down the bags, and return to ordinary life. The emails are there. The laundry is there. The calendar is there. In my case, the Accelerant coaching calls are there. The planning and content creation for IGNITE! are there. The studio is waiting. And all that inspiration can either stay as a lovely memory, or it can become part of the work.

I don’t think we need to bring everything back into the studio at once. In fact, trying to do that can be overwhelming. 

After any workshop, retreat, convention, exhibition, or art trip, I think it helps to choose one thing: one demo idea to test, one painting you can’t stop thinking about, with a few notes about why, one colour combination to try, one person to reconnect with, one small experiment before the energy fades, one sentence you heard that you don’t want to lose.

That’s enough. Inspiration will continue to seep in.

What we bring back, even at the end

This final IAPS Convention felt like an ending. How could it not?

But endings are rarely only endings. Something will emerge. It may not look the same. It may not gather us in quite the same way. But the energy of IAPS — the friendships, the learning, the exhibitions, the shared love of pastel — doesn’t simply vanish because this particular form has come to a close.

It continues in studios. It continues in local pastel societies. It continues in workshops, online groups, mentoring conversations, exhibitions, friendships, and in all the paintings made by people who came home newly stirred.

So yes, I came home from Albuquerque with photos and videos and memories. But I also came home with more than that. I came home reminded of why gathering matters. I came home with my eyes sharpened, my hands itching to get to the easel, my heart full, and my love for this medium renewed.

That, I think, is what we bring back.

And then the question becomes: what will we do with it?

So now I’m curious. What have you brought back from an art experience that stayed with you long after the bags were unpacked? A person? A painting? A conversation? An idea? Tell us in the comments — I’d love to hear.

Until next time,

~ Gail

PS. And yes, I did make more of my micro mini interviews – they’re coming soon!

And because this is such a cool photo….