Living the Life of an Artist

What if I can’t keep up with the demand? This is a fear that bothers me; a seemingly stupid fear because the chances of that happening are quite nil. Yet, that is a concern. My stubborn mind-set tells me that as an artist, I can only work when I FEEL like working. For me to even be thinking of this “problem” is ludicrous because at this time in my artist’s career, the possibility of having my work at such demand is highly improbable.

I hold back from participating in other shows and I am unwilling to contact more galleries because if my work sold quickly, I’d have to buckle down and work harder to produce more. I’d be working, not for my own fulfillment, but to satisfy the demands of the gallery owners and customers. But we are talking about making a living here! How can I not be pushing ahead? Why in the world do I insist on making this harder than it is?

Perhaps I come up with these excuses to justify laziness. To make the issue a “fear” gives the excuse for not getting work done more validity. Admitting a fear is more acceptable than saying you are lazy. And yet, when I have an inventory of stock that hasn’t sold, how can I justify making more?

There are answers for all these questions. It’s really all about HAVING to be creative. You can’t stop just because your work doesn’t sell, nor will it cease because you are afraid. Somehow, some way, you find a way to keep going.

Living the Life of an Artist

I’ve taken a bit of a break from doing any art work as my granddaughter, Megan, is spending her vacation with me. How wonderful as she is such a joy to have around. Today I’d like to take her bowling.

It feels funny to be totally blowing off doing anything artistic. Part of me feels a little guilty that I should be working on finishing up the charcoal drawings. I’m also supposed to be getting pictures ready for a photography slam. Haven’t done any writing either, but hey, I guess I can take a week off.

Then again, it doesn’t take much to give me an excuse not to work. Why is that, when I love what I do? I love working on my art, so why don’t I work at it more often? These are questions that always make me wonder.

Am I afraid of being successful? This is another question I’ve pondered for years. How can anyone fear success? When I think of what would happen if I were very successful, it is mind-boggling. Would customers be demanding more work than I can produce? Would my time be less of my own as I’d be working with more deadlines and consignments? I would have to be making more contacts with galleries. I’d need to be more “out there” with the public and might lose my solitary time. What if I couldn’t live up to that?

Then I’d be a failure. Perhaps it is better to remain in obscurity and continue to hibernate as much as possible. Of course, the downside to this is that it doesn’t pay the bills.

Living the Life of an Artist
Oh, the things that get in the way of doing your art… life, for instance. The focus breaks and it’s hard to get back into the mood. I can’t make myself work on my art when my heart isn’t in it. I will think about it, but the motivation isn’t there. A downward spiral begins, apathy sets in, and I get mad at myself for not doing any work.
One of my goals for this year is to get into a walking routine. I know that an hour or so outside will pump me up and make me feel alive. So yesterday, I planned to do an interview with some people going on a snow shoe tour. I couldn’t actually go because I hurt my knee earlier in the week.
I was eager to do the interview and had been planning questions in my head, but when I arrived, I felt tongue-tied and out of place. Here it comes up again… the solitary artist trying to fit in with a group. This happens to me time and time again. Writing is a major part of my art and most of it is done when alone, and yet, to get good stories, I must go out and talk to people. So, why do I crash in front of them?
I arrive home. Look at my other project on the easel, but I was feeling like a loser, so I picked up a book and buried myself in a story telling myself that there is plenty of time.
Yet, time is a factor to consider. I am older now. What if my time runs out and I’ve not finished my projects? If that should be, it will. What is important to me now, is that I work when I am in the mood. What’s important is that I keep working and take time to enjoy every aspect of this journey.

Living the Life of an Artist
Blue jays are making a horrible racket. I counted about 25 of them. I know some people would hate to hear this, but I’d like to shoot a dozen or so. They are annoying and distracting. Today is the start of Cornell University’s Bird Count. I’ve seen 3 cardinals, 5 robins, and a chickadee this morning.
I have a lot to do today, however, and can’t spend all day bird watching. “Heron Dance,” a… I’m not sure what to call it, but I get “Reflections from a Wild Artist” from it every day and today he was talking about the cantankerousness of artists. (www.herondance.org.) There was a quote from John Lennon from an interview he did one time and he mentioned the selfishness of artists.
I can understand that. I often think about and question my selfishness. How selfish am I? And how it is said, “It’s all about me.” I think about my irritation at being interrupted when I need to get my mother something. I can be very bitchy when I am not able to work on my art, especially as one little interruption will throw me off for the whole day. Most of the time, I can’t even stop to eat because once I take a break, I can’t seem to get back to it. Then I get upset with myself and will tend to take it out on others when they try to talk to me.
The life of an artist is very emotional and part of that turmoil goes into every piece we do; no matter what type of art we do. It’s very personal. It’s like we are putting ourselves out there for the world to see and oftentimes, the world cannot understand it and throws it back in our face. We are misunderstood, so artists tend to “act out” and do totally outrageous things.
For me, when I do a charcoal drawing, there is that desire to make something beautiful, to take a photograph and put my own artistic spin on it. I want to share the beauty from a different perspective. Even in the photography work itself, I am attempting to share moments of awe with that child like joy of discovery. I am inspired and excited. So much of what catches my eye is like finding buried treasure. In those moments I am soooo happy. Then I crash when others do not see it as I do, when they cannot understand the joy. When I am that happy, I want to share that feeling and I am disappointed when they don’t get it.
I crawl back in my hole and don’t come out for days.

Living the Life of an Artist
February 17, 2011
Today I am once more thinking about my lack of discipline and it’s a subject I’ve griped about for years. Nan and I went to a gallery yesterday to pick up some of our work because we’ve been unable to get responses from the owners there and if the pieces are not selling, they need to go elsewhere. She thought to bring her list and something to carry her things in. I just showed up. Another artist came in behind us also wanting her things and she brought a plastic tote to put her baskets in.
I am wishy-washy. They demanded their articles and I stood by without saying a word. The woman in the building has nothing to do with the gallery, but there is fear that we are going to lose our art work.
What’s that got to do with discipline? Nothing except that I knew I was going down with the intent to bring my pieces home. Why wasn’t I prepared? Without proper material to protect my pictures, the glass and frames would get scratched, plus I would have to make multiple trips up and down the stairs because most of the work is on the second floor. I suppose I could say that I knew intuitively that I wouldn’t be able to get my stuff, but if that is true, I wasn’t conscious of it.
Back home, I let myself sink into apathy. I let stupid excuses get in the way of doing my work. I wonder if other artists suffer from this. Perhaps their discipline and drive are stronger. The funny thing is, I THINK about the art work all the time. I picture myself standing at the easel finishing the pieces. In one form or another, my mind is almost always thinking about my projects and coming up with ideas for new ones.
This is true for a few days anyway. Then I jump back in with both feet. One thing I have to remember is that because I work on many projects, the steps taken seem small and it takes a longer time to get anything finished. And that’s the truth! THHHHppphhhttt. (For those of you who remember Lily Tomlin’s character, Edith-Ann.)

Living the Life of an Artist
February 16, 2011
I made shepherd’s pie and invited Betty and Nelson to lunch. In cleaning off the dining room table, I put the easel with 3 wip pictures on the floor. They remarked on my progress, we had a great lunch, and after they left, my mother said, “Do you know what I don’t like about your drawings?”
Jeez, I should have known not to face the pictures towards her. Here we go again. She’s got to pick everything apart. I didn’t answer her. It was all so familiar.
“I’m only joking,” she went on after a few moments when I didn’t respond. I did know that in this instance because I also had the photographs from which I was working leaned up on the easel and I knew she was going to reference something about them and her eye sight--- which she did.
But because her initial phrasing was of words I’d heard before coming out of her mouth, I shut down to whatever else she had to say. She has always been this way with me and is perhaps one of the reasons why it took me so long to acknowledge myself as an artist, to feel secure in myself that I don’t need her approval. People often say that you are your own worst critic, but for me, it is my mother. Yes, I do sabotage myself often, but it’s my mother’s voice I hear in my head with the negativity, so I’ve taken to not showing her much of my work until it is finished.
I grew up with the negative critique over riding anything positive. That’s probably why I dislike criticizing anything. It’s a fine line between stating an opinion and supporting an artist. Sometimes one little moment of a bad comment can send an artist reeling from which it might take weeks for her to recover. If you must “find fault,” at least try to throw in what you like about the piece especially in the presence of the artist.
My mother said to me once when we were having one of those “Why do you have to be so negative” conversations that she has a right to her opinions. Yes, you do have a right to your opinion and yes, it’s good to be honest, but it’s also important to be diplomatic. In being honest with your views, is it right to hurt someone’s feelings? Is it okay to always state why you don’t like something instead of saying what qualities the person or piece of art has? My mother, in her need to be honest and have her opinion count, somehow learned to only see the faults or her idea of offering critique was in commenting on what wasn’t good.
Is that the role of a good critic? Is it necessary to strip the artist of her joy at creating something she feels is wonderful? Oh, don’t give me that crap about building good character or that it will make the person try harder. That’s a cop out… most of the time. In my opinion, people who are so negative are really insecure in their own abilities so they lash out at those who accomplish what they are unwilling to do or try.
Not everyone will love the work we do and we should not expect them to. However, we shouldn’t have to duck, either. Maybe I am just a fragile artist and one negative word will send me crashing to the floor. Maybe I am just tired of listening to all the fault finding… and here I am finding fault with those who love being negative.
Critiquing is not about finding the bad things about a piece and we do need to be allowed our points of view, so how can we choose words that will allow us to be honest, yet still be supportive of the art/artist?

Living the Life of an Artist
February 15, 2011
Bright, cold, windy morning and after a restless night (as restless as the wind,) I am feeling stiff and achy. These bones are getting old and tired. I should go out walking, but it’s too darn cold. Instead, I sit with a bowl of oatmeal trying to get motivated to work on my drawings. You’d think from the beauty I can see from this window, that I’d feel more inspired.
A lot of snow melted yesterday in temperatures that reached 50. I’m not looking out through bars of icicles any more. The bird feeders that I’ve not seen in weeks are poking out of the snow, but now the snow looks dirty as it’s covered with limbs and pine needles.
I’m debating my work schedule for today. Minutes need to be typed for last month’s LSSC BOD Meeting. I have the 5 drawings in various stages on the easels here in the dining room. The next step is to bring them downstairs to the basement studio to put them on the big easels so that I can get a better view and finish them up. Two of them are close to being finished and if I get them done today, I’ll be able to take them to the framer tomorrow.
It’s funny the obstacles that come up; obstacles that are often only in the mind, the self-sabotage, the lack of motivation. How to work beyond them is one of my jobs. How to not be distracted by an idea for another project or how to return once I’ve been interrupted… even if it’s just by Freyja who stretches on the table beside and reaches out with one paw to remind me she likes kitty-pats.
It’s time to put finishing touches to a drawing which will be done with electric eraser and a charcoal pencil. I have a hard time keeping the pencils sharp enough to do the little bit of detail work, that just enough to create the illusion of detail. Why do I let that hang me up?

DESCRIBING OURSELVES AS ARTISTS
Nan and I are conversing on art and talking about ourselves as artists. The struggle always seems to be where one fits in with her art. People want to put everything in categories, but what if what you do doesn’t follow the normal parameters of any one category or it doesn’t fall into where others think your work should be? Isn’t part of being an artist following your own inner dictates or listening to that muse?
Nan describes herself as a Photo Realist because her goal is to create a painting that is mathematically precise to the photograph. For years, others have told her that working from a photograph is, in a way, just making a copy of the photo, but for Nan, her entire process to do that painting is, in itself, art. She spent years developing her technique and her paintings are beautiful and life-like. The detail that she puts into every painting is phenomenal and she’ll spend hours with tiny brushes getting every stroke precise.
I think about the beliefs we develop and how, no matter what some people say to us, we still have to do our work in our own way and it often changes and develops new streams.
A few years ago, I took a couple of classes in charcoal landscape drawing. The idea I was taught was to “create the illusion of detail” and I love that concept and took to this art form as if I’d been doing it for years. However, as I develop my own technique, I am also making self discoveries as I explore the works’ processes.
At the end of last year, I got the idea of adding a “hint of color” to give the drawings a boost and with the next two drawings, I tried it out and liked it. With these drawings still not finished, though, I am questioning my processes. I actually like the one least finished better than the one that is just about done.
What does this mean? “Creating the illusion of detail” was what I was taught, but am I trying to put in too much detail? Let me think about this further…
First I recognize that there is always a point where I absolutely hate my drawing. I am tempted to give up and I walk away. Days, sometimes weeks, later, I come back to it. Then I will reach the point where I like it, but it isn’t finished so I keep working and then I don’t like it so much again. I finally reach a point where it is finished and I like it okay. Just okay?
Now I come to the conclusion that I liked it better before I put in more detail. So what does this mean? The word “minimalistic” comes to mind. Would I do better if I fell into that category? I try to think exactly what that means in the art world and I believe that the drawings would not quite be minimalist, that I’d still have more detail than would be described in those terms. Still, if what I am trying to accomplish is the “illusion of detail,” then I need to re-group and stop trying to put in too much detail.
When I stand back from the drawing, less is better. Perhaps my worry is that if people get close to the picture, they will see that detail is blurry. It is that fuzziness that lends the aura of mystical to the drawing. (It also makes it hard to photograph.) The picture looks “cleaner” from a distance and I was once told that pictures are not supposed to be viewed up close. Hmmm…
I have a total of 5 drawings in various stages on the easel boards, two on one board and three on the other. I like working on more than one at a time. When I start getting a frustrated with one, I can work on the others. One of them has quite a bit of detail in it (that one almost finished.) With my new concept, I am eager to get back to work. When these are finished, I will have a better understanding of who I am as a charcoal landscape artist. It’ll be interesting to see where this goes.