How Artist Residencies Give Creatives the Freedom to Expand Their Practices
From Maine to Majorca, immersive programs offer invigorating environments that have the power to shift an artist’s perspective
For artists, time away from their usual studio space and daily routine can profoundly affect their practice, which is why residencies continue to thrive. Many of them involve an extended stay in a charming location—a barrier island, a Maine forest, a small town in France—and the number of participants on hand at a given time as well as the structure of the program can widely vary. Sometimes there is mentorship and socializing; other times artists are simply given space and materials to create on their own.
“It cracked my world open,” says Brenda Draney, who is Cree and a member of the Sawridge First Nation. She has completed the six-week residency at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity in Alberta four times, and each stay has made an impact on her stylized figurative paintings.
The residencies, which were explicitly for Indigenous artists (the Banff Centre offers
a range of programs), fostered community, which resonated with her more than the great facilities on hand for printmaking, ceramics, photography, and more. “It made me understand that there isn’t one way to be an Indigenous artist or an Indigenous person,” says Draney, who lives in Edmonton, Alberta, and shows with Ortuzar gallery in New York.
During one stint, a mentor of Draney’s, Canadian artist Ken Lum, reminded her that she was responsible for all parts of her art practice, which led her to reassess how she names her pieces. “I was writing these long narrative titles,” she says. Now her titles are tight. New York artist Kevin Beasley—whose heavily accreted works of objects in resin and polyurethane foam as well as his sound installations have made him a star sculptor—says he’s “not that into residencies” and isn’t interested in jumping from one to the next as some artists do. Despite being what he calls “really picky” about them, he has found three that he enjoyed: the Studio Museum in Harlem (in its old location), the Delfina Foundation in London, and the famed Robert Rauschenberg residency on the Florida island of Captiva.
By his own account, Beasley— who was featured at the Whitney Museum of American Art in its 2014 biennial and a solo project four years later—works slowly and deliberately. “Residencies typically don’t give time for that kind of slowness,” he says. But the ten-month program at the Studio Museum provided the interval he needed, and his 2013–14 stay there also put him in contact with important curators and collectors.
During his month on Captiva in 2016, the natural beauty and the spirit of Rauschenberg—a like-minded agglomerator of materials and objects who is a touchstone for Beasley—helped him “unlock blockages” in his work. The amenities available, such as dance and recording studios, which he used extensively for his performance-centric work, are part of what made the experience “unique,” he says. It also didn’t hurt to have the acclaimed artist Theaster Gates as a housemate.
Beasley, who shows with Regen Projects in Los Angeles and Casey Kaplan in New York, channeled a wild burst of creativity that he didn’t expect: “I ended up making multiple projects for multiple shows,” he says. (Unfortunately, the Rauschenberg residency is ending this year due to cost.)
Katie Sonnenborn, codirector of Skowhegan in Madison, Maine—it’s both a renowned school and a residency—has for years recognized how a change of scenery can make a difference. “The impact of our program is lasting, and the key is the network of relationships that sustain our artists in their life and work,” she says, adding that the gorgeous 350-acre property is a “safe space—I know that’s a cliche, but ours encourages experimentation and growth.” It’s why the program counts talents such as Chase Hall, Candida Alvarez, and Trenton Doyle Hancock among its many alumni.
Los Angeles artist Jennifer Rochlin has done three residencies, “all very different,” she says. They were in Europe— in Versailles, France, and an Umbrian town in Italy—but the program run by Hauser & Wirth in Somerset, England, where the gallery has an outpost, had the biggest effect on her. “After this most recent one, I was like, ‘Why don’t I do this every year?’” says Rochlin, who hand-builds, carves, and paints expressive terra-cotta vessels. “It’s such a gift to artists to have that time and space away from your daily life and to have your other needs taken care of.”
Hauser & Wirth invites artists to have their families join them in Somerset, which was appealing to Rochlin, who has twin boys. A stocked fridge, on-site blackberry picking, and tons of equipment were just some of the amenities that allowed her the freedom to focus on work—the organizers even ordered clay for her. In the garden of her temporary home, she was able to draw on her pots outdoors for the very first time, “like plein air painting,” she says. Her imagination bubbled over. “I had never really done reliefs on my work, and that started there,” Rochlin says. “I began making busts, too. It opened up so much creativity. I think it was just being in such a beautiful place, wanting to take advantage of every minute.”
Perhaps no artist can say they’ve been more affected by a residency than painter Blair Saxon-Hill: She moved to Majorca in the Mediterranean after doing a program there and now splits her time between the Spanish island and Los Angeles. Moving from assemblage and collage to—most recently—figurative oil painting, Saxon-Hill has attended six residencies (one of them involved living in an Airstream trailer in Oregon), but it was the program at CCA Andratx, in the hills outside of Palma, that changed her life.
She arrived in 2024 at the contemporary art center, complete with four studios, a gallery, and a café, intending to be open to change. “I really wanted to make work to show how I was altered by being in the different places,” says Saxon-Hill. “While I was here, I painted bouquets of wildflowers that I had picked.”
Not only did the resulting works please her (she’s known for a Henri Matisse–like sense of color), but they also caught the eye of the residency organizers, who invited her to come back in 2025 and put on a show at the on-site art gallery. She returned last year and “made an enormous amount of work in three months,” she says. Then she simply didn’t leave. Now she rents a house with a view of an almond orchard and the coastline and water beyond. As she puts it, “it’s gorgeous and fabulous, and I’ve had a great experience.”
A version of this article first appeared in print in our 2026 Summer Issue under the headline “Altered Landscape.” Subscribe to the magazine.