Mental dissection of an older painting

I made this painting, Llora y Llora, back circa 2009, before I'd started selling my art. If you've been following any of my recent work on this blog, my official art website, my Facebook Business Page, or my Instagram account (@LadydeanArt), you'll know that my style and composition have evolved quite a bit since this painting was completed. I don't even have this piece logged in my inventory, and I don't actively show it.

A few months ago, tired of the painting sitting in a corner gathering dust, I got the brilliant idea to re-purpose it while maintaining the basic composition. I'd bring it up-to-date by adding more bold shapes and colors and marks to it... I'd make the background more interesting... I even figured I'd cover the frame in foil to avoid having to break it out, thus enabling me to paint on the canvas as-is.

Since then, I've read a few internet articles regarding the different options available to an artist to deal with old inventory, including this interesting post on red dot blog. It got me thinking about my as-yet-unfulfilled plans for Llora y Llora, and I found myself questioning whether I really wanted to alter the work. I decided to hang the painting on the wall in my bedroom and spend some time with it... staring at it... contemplating it. The more I looked at it, the more I realized that I don't want to change a thing about it. I don't want to enhance the background, or add contemporary shapes, or brighten any part of it. To do so might threaten the charm that it already has; a charm that goes beyond the hand-built frame my dad made for it that I stained myself with a beautiful green.

This painting captures a moment in my development as an artist, in terms of use of color, placement of line, treatment of composition, etc. The brushstrokes have a particular boldness that I was trying on as I painted on this canvas; it may not immediately seem like I was pushing myself artistically as I made this painting, but the marks remind me that this was the case. Furthermore, the manner in which the subject matter was treated appropriately reflects a sadness I was feeling as I lost my cat, my romantic relationship, and then grandmother, and was in the process of losing one of my favorite friends, who I managed to show this painting to before he passed a few months later. He loved the wispy look of the tip of the nose, and the way those brushstrokes danced with the background. I suspect that to alter this painting would also be to compromise its emotional integrity...

Llora y Llora, 40 x 30 inches, acrylic on stretched canvas with hand-built frame. Photo by Steve Lundberg.

Fall in love with the process

Recently, a friend was trying to explain to me his philosophy about making art. The term he used to differentiate a true piece of art from the noise out there was "flow". Does the work reflect the artist's flow? But how does one define this concept?

It's something I've been trying to describe to myself for years, ever since I watched George toss a gorgeous piece of in-progress bronze in the back of his car, unlocked with the window left down! If I had to take a gander at it, I'd frame it in terms of loving the process over loving the product. What do I mean by this? I mean allowing yourself (as the artist) to let go of the outcome, and focus on the mechanics that get the work done. This could include embracing brushstrokes you don't like; choosing not to work and rework a section of the piece in an attempt to get things "just right"; focusing on the qualities of the paint you are using instead of worrying about whether you rendered proportions perfectly; or letting the paint dictate the outcome of the session as one color grabs another while you drag your brush through space. And it certainly means believing in yourself along the way.

Such thinking allows the artist to be less invested in each individual piece, which should lead to better production and, in turn, a better body of work. It also allows for more freedom to be creative, because when you are less invested in a given outcome, you'll probably take more risks or perhaps be more playful in your execution. These actions should lead to more success overall. The more work you make, the better you'll get and, hopefully, the more work you'll sell.

But why is this so? I suspect that if an artist can decouple a certain subset of their emotions (mainly fear, pride, shame, hope, and love) from their actual work, and instead focus on executing the process with confidence, then they can achieve this so-called "flow", which will become apparent in their body of work as it becomes stronger. It's almost like you have to step back from yourself in order to bring out the best qualities of your art.

For the record, loving the process over the product and achieving flow are things I struggle with. I've historically been a lover of the product, and very rarely the process, which means that making art has at times been painful. So it has been in my best interests to change my way of thinking and learn to love the process, and to let go of much of the outcome in favor of, well, creating better art.

Pictured here is a new piece, Catwalk. 16 x 12 inches, acrylic on cradled panel. Painted with brushstrokes I didn't like, lines I wanted to clean up but didn't, and an energy that can best be described as... "flow". And I think it came out divine...

I'm on Instagram!

I finally got set up with an Instagram account. You can find me at LadydeanArt. I'm hoping to be able to reach a broader audience with this platform. Please follow me!

Art Biz book resources for the artist who wants to start thinking like a business person!

In my blog post about inventory tracking from February 23, 2016, I mentioned that I would be writing a future post about resources. Today's blog post will list several book resources that I have found to be helpful over the past year; web resources will have to wait until a later day!

I have devoured as many books as has been possible, and I will now share with you my list of the ones I believe to be the most useful. Here are the categorizations I will use, in case you need to get to targeted information quickly:
a. Marketing and online presence;
b. Inventory nuts and bolts;
c. Taxes;
d. Working with galleries/ getting your art out there;
e. Pricing your work;
f. Motivation for women in business;
g. Artistic confidence/ goals/ believing in yourself as an artist;
h. Entrepreneurship/ business information.

And here is the list of books (I checked almost all of these out from my local library), with the corresponding letter categorizations to the right of the title and author:
1. Art, Inc.: The Essential Guide for Building Your Career as an Artist, by Lisa Congdon: a, c, d, e, and g.
2. Starting Your Career as an Artist: A Guide for Painters, Sculptors, Photographers, and Other Visual Artists, by Angie Wojak and Stacy Miller: a, b, c, d, e, g, and h.
3. How to Get Started Selling Your Art, by Carole Katchen: a, d, e, and g.
4. Birthing the Elephant: The Woman's Go-For-It! Guide to Overcoming the Big Challenges of Launching a Business, by Karin Abarbanel and Bruce Freeman: f and h.
5. Escape From Cubicle Nation: From Corporate Prisoner to Thriving Entrepreneur, by Pamela Slim: h.
6. "Starving" to Successful: The Fine Artist's Guide to Getting Into Galleries and Selling More Art, by Jason Horejs: a, b, d, e, and g.
7. Living and Sustaining a Creative Life: Essays by 40 Working Artists, edited by Sharon Louden: d, f, g, and h.
8. Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, by David Bayles and Ted Orland: g.
9. How to Survive and Prosper as an Artist: Selling Yourself Without Selling Your Soul, by Caroll Michels: a, d, e, g, and h.
10. New Markets for Artists: How to Sell, Fund Projects, and Exhibit Using Social Media, DIY Pop-Ups, eBay, Kickstarter, and Much More, by Brainard Carey: a, d, e, g, and h.
11. The Crafts Business Answer Book: Starting, Managing, and Marketing a Homebased Arts, Crafts, or Design Business, by Barbara Brabec: a, b, c, e, and h.

I hope you find some or all of these books to be helpful. In most cases, each book deals with more topics than what I have delineated above; however, I wanted to point you in the right direction if you need a quick resource for a given hot topic that is creating stress in your life. Also, please note that I am still in the process of implementing much of the advice I have read... it was a lot to absorb, and many things simply do not happen overnight!

Stay tuned for a future post on useful websites! There are some really good ones out there.

Photo credit goes to my sister Jessalyn for snapping this picture of me in 2012 at a café in Cusco, Perú.

How many artists does it take to paint a painting?

A friend once asked me, "How many artists does it take to paint a painting?" The answer, it turned out, was, "Two. One to paint the painting, and the other to yell: STOP!!"

One of the challenges every artist faces is knowing when to call a piece of artwork done. For some, such as Willem de Kooning, perhaps no painting is ever truly done, while others, such as Bob Ross, will confidently know their work is complete as soon as they've included all their formulaic elements. For everyone in between, the concept can be a bit of a moving target, and the real task at hand becomes learning how to play both the role of painter and the role of artist who yells: STOP!!

In my experience, it has become a lot easier with time to know when a painting can be called finished, so experience with one's own evolution as an artist will help. This can mean focusing on developing a certain style, exploring a specific theme, or simply becoming better at using your tools and materials, to give a few examples. I plan and sketch out a lot more of my paintings these days than I did ten years ago, so I'm usually working towards something in particular and I have a much easier time sensing when I have achieved whatever goal is driving the work.

However, I still have my moments of not knowing when to call a work done, particularly if I suspect that I'm not pushing myself to fully explore the piece, in which case I actually have to say, "Paint, Tara, paint!". The first step I take is to step back and observe, think about the painting, and consider what might be missing or causing unwelcome tension. If I come up with something specific that is bothering me, I go back in and work on it.

But, what happens when there is nothing further to address? How do I recognize when I'm adding paint simply for the sake of adding paint? My simplest gauge is this: If I am still putting paint on a canvas but no further value is being added to the essence of the work, then it's time to yell: STOP!!

In the case of the painting seen here (and also here), I knew that I needed to differentiate the male figure a bit more before calling it done, so my final session consisted of applying more quinacridone crimson to the actual figure, and working some titanium white into the background section to the left of the bodies, both with the goal of bring out the contrasts, as seen in the final photo above. After I did this, I stepped back and wondered if I was finished. My first thought was, "I could do more!", but to what aim? I had resolved the problem, so what else could be achieved by continuing to work? It turns out, there was nothing more to say. Adding more paint or refining another area would not have contributed to the composition or the energy of the piece. At this point, I was just being mechanical in the service of anxiety, and the risk of continuing to paint would be to run in circles in the pursuit of a solution to a non-existent problem. So I decided to paint my signature on and call it done, in effect yelling: STOP!!

The Dance. 26 x 20 1/4 inches, acrylic on rag paper.

Some thoughts on inventory system tracking

Please note that this blog post does not constitute professional advice; for professional guidance, please contact your tax accountant. This post is simply my effort to share what I have learned about inventories over the past few years, and is intended to help other artists who may feel lost or overwhelmed, as I did. Although I hope it does not, this post may contain errors or inaccuracies; it certainly contains simplifications.

As an artist, it is important to have a system to track your inventory. When many (if not most, or even all) artists first start creating, having an inventory is the furthest thing from their mind. Maybe your art habit began as just a sketch book and some pens 13 years ago, and snowballed over time; perhaps you signed up for a local watercolor class, and found yourself falling in love with painting on the weekends, and one day someone asked you, "how much do you want for this?"; or it's possible that (like me) you've been creating art since you were in middle school, and you couldn't conceive of an inventory until you were swimming in art materials and potential sales years later.

If making art remains a hobby or you never sell a thing, perhaps you don't need an inventory. However, if you do sell, hope to sell, intend to sell, or plan to sell, then you must eventually put a proverbial stake in the ground and start an inventory. You'll need one in order to have an account of what materials you possess, to determine your profit per sale, to know how you are using (or wasting) your materials, and to complete your federal income taxes adequately. Specifically, you'll need this information to calculate the Cost of Goods Sold (COGS) for the products that leave your inventory on your Profit or Loss From Business (Sole Proprietorship), also know as Schedule C (Form 1040). If you are declaring your sales but aren't tracking your inventory, then you risk paying income tax on the materials you have purchased; the goal is to properly reduce your taxable income by the amount of costs you have invested in your materials that have left your inventory (profits - COGS = taxable income), and to declare your existing end-of-year inventory so that you have information to work from in future years.

When you first start your inventory, you may be faced with the problem I had: how to account for everything you already have. This can be overwhelming, but it is possible to get through the task without losing your mind. First, focus on what your principal product is. Are you primarily a painter who dabbles in clay on the side? If so, start with cataloging your painting materials, and worry about the clay later. Next, break down your materials for your primary product into categories. In my case, I had to figure out exactly how much paint I had in tubes and how much I thought was on canvases, how many canvases I had (painted or unpainted), how many feet of hanging wire I had (in paintings or on the spool), etc., and then I had to assign a cost to these things. I am a fairly meticulous record keeper, so I actually still had most of the old receipts for these items, although sorting through them and figuring out what was what took some time. If you don't have the receipts or you can't read them, then use the internet to find out the best pricing guess if you had to go buy the material today.

After I had the rough overall cost of what was in my inventory, I needed a system to track the assigned costs for each product, because as I sell a painting, I need to be able to then deduct the cost of those sold materials from the current inventory. The first item of business at that point was determining what constituted the basis of a product; for me, it became clear that this would be a support, whether that support was a stretched canvas, a piece of paper, or a cradled panel. Upon this basis, I assigned chronological inventory numbers. As each canvas enters my inventory (i.e., as each canvas I buy arrives on my doorstep), I immediately slap an inventory number on it. I am committed to creating a piece of art as soon as I acquire the support, even if I don't get to paint on it in the same calendar year as it enters my inventory. As such, a painting I make in 2016 may actually have a 2015 inventory number assigned to it, because that was the year the support entered my inventory.

How do I handle the tracking of the minutia? Well, this is a case where I have to try and be as accurate as possible, but acknowledge that a guestimate is often good enough. It's simply impossible to measure every ounce of paint as you are working! But I do have a general sense of how much I am using, and so as I work through creating my paintings, I deduct the approximate amounts accordingly.

At this point, you may be wondering how I deduct these amounts and keep track of the actual numbers side of things. Truth be told, I built my own spreadsheet with automated formulas and calculations. When I sell a piece, I change the Sold = No cell to Sold = Yes, and all of the inputs and totals change according to the formulas. If you are not versed in spreadsheet programs, then the answer is simple: either contract this work to someone whose business is supporting entrepreneurs with inventory systems, or do it by hand. Yes, I mean keep a log book whereby each page is a specification sheet dedicated to each project, reflected by the individual job number assigned, and then track all related costs: supports, paint, wire, hardware, framing, etc. Then have a section dedicated to the calendar year starting and ending inventories for unassigned materials (such as paint in tubes, stacks of paper, spools of wire, stretcher bars, canvas rolls, etc.). You'll have to do some calculations at the end of the year to find out your sales totals, COGS, and remaining inventories, but it is possible to do this. And as you purchase new materials, you'll enter the costs into the appropriate section of the log book. For example, if you contract your framing work to a frame shop, you'll want to tie the expense to a particular job number; if you do your own framing, however, then you'll have framing materials that you enter into the unassigned materials section, later moving cost amounts to specific job numbers as you frame your own work. No matter which method you choose, the important thing is that you account for everything, that you maintain copies of your records in case you get audited, and that you simply stay on top of things so you don't find yourself lagging behind.

There are clearly many related sub-topics that I could include as part of this post (such as a more in-depth explanation of the Schedule C as it applies to artists), but I have decided to keep this post limited to the nuts and bolts of my inventory process. I do hope to write a future post that includes the best resources I found while doing my research on inventories, including both books I checked out from my local library and websites. I am indebted to my friend Rebecca Sundermeier (Rebel Inn Studios) for her support explaining many of these concepts as they apply to the fine arts specifically, as opposed to entrepreneurs generally.

The art seen in the photo above is titled: Intimacy. 18 7/16 x 11 7/8 inches, acrylic on cradled masonite.

Lean into the challenge

In art, it often helps to have a problem that needs solving. A challenge to tackle can make your work more interesting, and should be embraced. If you can lean into the challenge and see the problem as an opportunity (to borrow the language of business-speak), take the time to analyze what is and isn't working, and finally roll up your sleeves and fix what's wrong, you will often end up with a much better end product then had the issue never arose to begin with. The complexity of having solved a problem will often translate to the viewer (with no words needed), who can be drawn in by the subtle tensions that appear in the work of art as you stop, stare, consider, and re-approach whatever it is that is bothering you.

Although as artists we should strive to master our craft and execute our skills quickly, we risk falling into a trap of monotony if we are never challenged by the colors, composition, meaning, or technical execution of our work. As someone important once said, the moment your works stops challenging you is the moment you should quit and find something else to do with your life. So although having a problem can feel overwhelming, bring us to tears or anger, or cause us to freeze up if the solution isn't immediately apparent, if we can power through the anxiety and keep working, the outcome will be worth the struggle. And the less of a fight you put up with yourself or your art, the better off you will be. Say to yourself, "This problem is actually an opportunity. I should be excited by this challenge, because it will ultimately make this a stronger piece. Don't panic, Self, just calm down and look at things objectively. What do I need to do to fix this?". It may take a while to come to a conclusion, so give yourself the time you need to do so. Once you have it, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

I had several challenges arise while working on this painting. The biggest challenge is the actual support: rag paper. There are different absorbencies on this painting due to the way I prepped the paper, which made it challenging to layer paint on later. I almost panicked while working on the right butt cheek of the female figure (the paint wouldn't move the way I wanted it to!), but caught myself and said, "Lean into the challenge", took a deep breath, and was honest with myself about what was wrong. I knew the paper and the layers of supports were working against me, but that I had to be strong and apply the acrylic paint boldly and with confidence, in order to make the figures pop. I had to work quickly, so as to not tear a hole in the surface. I also knew I was committed to the colors [the quinacridone crimson and the phthalo blue (green shade) are high staining and once you've applied them to the support, you can't really turn back], so the only way to go was forward. This approach allowed me to get through the stressful pause, and I'm now quite happy with how the painting is turning out. It's not quite done, but it's almost there.

Working title: "The Dance of Love". 26 x 20 1/4 inches, mixed media (India ink and acrylic) on rag paper.

The Columbian Artist News: Featured article!!

Last month, I was asked if I'd be willing to write an article about my recent career change. I was happy to oblige, and the result looks great: A decision to pursue a career as a full time artist.

Here's to new beginnings...

I have big news! And lots of blogging to do, for the record...

After close to two decades of doing art on the side, I recently decided to take the plunge and focus on doing it full time. Yes, it's true... I quit my day job.

To be honest, I'd been thinking about doing this for about a year. Not the kind of wistful thinking that comes with daydreaming, but the kind of serious consideration required when asking critical questions: "Can I do this? If so, what do I need to do now to make this happen?" If you imagine that these are scary questions to consider, you are right, although I have to say that the feelings of fear were much stronger a year ago than they have been in recent weeks. With the exception of one late-night anxiety session about three days before I turned in my work keys, I've been calm and confident of my decision; there has been no backpedaling.

That being said, I've put a lot of pressure on myself: pressure to perform, pressure to deliver results, pressure to maintain constant levels of creativity... and these are all hard things. In response, I'm trying to take things one day at a time, forgive myself when the inner critic starts to bully, and stay focused on the reasons why I decided to make such a huge career switch. With time, things will fall into place. In fact, they are already falling into place. I've had so much to do to get started that I find myself wondering how on earth I was able to do both art and the day job for so long. Obviously, I wasn't as invested in my art even a few years ago as I am now, which means I'd reached a turning point recently; this is another way of saying that I wasn't ready to do this even a year ago! Timing is everything.

Now that I find myself on the other side of my big question, I am having feelings and thoughts that I couldn't have anticipated, which is I'm sure true of any big change or new life adventure, and I'm trying to adjust and calibrate. At the same time, I'm aggressively pursuing new leads, and so things are very busy. In the "adjust and calibrate" column are things like: figuring out my work schedule, ensuring I leave the house each day and interact with people, and creating my first true inventory of materials and artworks. In the "aggressively pursuing new leads" category are things such as: creating an art Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/LadydeanArt, if you want to like it), booking a flurry of new shows, submitting some of my tiny tulips to a juried show, and planning my materials purchases a little more carefully. I also sold five paintings in July, which is a good start. After all, I am running a small business here...

This photo is of a tiny tulip painting that I did a few weeks ago and sold right away. It's called Tiny Tulips & Berries I, and I'm working on two more in different sizes. Keep an eye out for future posts about these paintings!

The client's reaction when I deliver art... priceless!

For as much as I love getting paid, I think what I love even more is seeing the reaction from my clients when I deliver the art. The first reaction to seeing the work in person... to hanging the work in its new home... to hearing the details behind the execution... this is really fun and motivating - it's what makes it all worth it.

It's honestly not enough for me to like most of my paintings (I'll make exceptions for really personal pieces that I know no one is going to connect with... this is why I have my own collection of my art!). If you don't love it, then I've missed the mark somehow; but, you're probably not buying it if that's not the case, so it's likely that I won't have to suffer through a lackluster reception.

Here are the composition and color-planning sketches for the Tulip Series. The patrons love the paintings...

Old, forgotten paintings

A little over a year ago, I found myself intensely focused on a question that had flitted across my mind several times in the past, never sticking around long enough to rattle me: What happens to art that has been forgotten, or that has become obsolete? I was visiting an elderly couple at their dimly lit home, old paintings in tinny frames peering crookedly at me from forgotten corners of the living room, when the question really made its impression. Could my art end up this way? I was rattled.

Here I saw a small painting of a ship on calm waters with a tranquil blue sky; polite and well behaved flowers in a simple vase, painted against a boring background; a portrait of some man, painted in long faded oils. These pieces of art were either kitsch to begin with, or so far removed from their context that they ceased to have meaning beyond something you might find in a thrift store while looking for cheap props for an upcoming play... For all I knew, the couple (or perhaps just the husband or just the wife) still derived pleasure from looking at these pieces, although I felt it was more likely they didn't really see them at all. I knew they cared about the photos of their children and grandchildren adorning the old piano, but the painting of the ship? It was probably background noise at this point.

What if these paintings had been something once? What if the artist had been a local, celebrated artist? What if the artist had been a local, celebrated artist... in Boise, Idaho (i.e., some random, faraway place that elicited little urgency from viewers in Kansas)? What happens to this art when the old couple passes away, and the relatives are purging the house of memories and memorabilia in a rush so they can sell the house? If the next of kin aren't moved by the art, does it die too? Is it okay if it does?

Does most art cycle out, whether due to death, natural disasters, changing tastes and tides, or being entombed in limbo in the basement of an important gallery? How many of my pieces will end up this way? How many of my paintings will ultimately die a death of obsolescence? How many of yours will?

(I found the painting shown here stacked in a closet in the back bedroom of my grandparents' house; they both died years ago. The back of the painting says: "Big Sur Creek", but that has been crossed out and replaced with the words: "Mountain Stream". The artist's first name is either "Andrew" or "Andrea" and the last name is "Tagasis", "Taparis", or some combination of those letters...)

More about colors!

I have completed Tus Labios IV! I'm excited with how it came out.

I need to catalog the colors, so here goes. The base coat (no media mixed in) was six parts titanium white mixed with one part chromium green oxide; this color was later used as a highlight on all of the flowers (with perhaps a wee bit more green mixed in than I intended). The sky to the left is a roughly 50-50% mix of primary magenta and N6 neutral gray, while the ground to the right is a roughly 50-50% mix of dioxazine purple and N6 neutral gray. The vertical horizon line between them is 40% carbon black mixed with 60% dioxazine purple, lined with primary magenta on either side. The sun is pure cadmium yellow medium hue, lined with 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta. The flowers (from left to right) are:

1. Roughly 50-50% mix of primary magenta and N6 neutral gray, lined with 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta and the chromium green mix;
2. 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta applied with lots of water, lined with the chromium green mix;
3. Primary magenta, lined with 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta and the chromium green mix;
4. Cadmium yellow medium hue, lined with 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta and the chromium green mix;
5. I'm not sure on this one. My notes say 50% primary magenta + 50% dioxazine purple applied with lots of water. It's definitely lined with the 40% carbon + 60% dioxazine purple and the chromium green mix.
6. Primary magenta, lined with 40% carbon black + 60% primary magenta and the chromium green mix.

Lots of color theory at work here!

The roots and stems (as with the other tulip paintings in this series) are all painted in phthalo green (yellow shade).

Some of the more fun "theme continuation" elements include rotating the horizon line on a vertical axis, and opening up one of the tulips (the one to the far right, of course, to create some tension). I also had fun making one of the roots into a follicle.

Blogging: Just post it already

While I don't fancy myself a writer, I have read lots of articles and blog posts about how writers and authors often get stuck (sometimes due to perfectionist tendencies), and can see parallels between creating literature and creating art. I think the same advice of "just start" more than applies to artists, both with regards to writing an art blog post (see title of this post) and getting your hustle together to pick up the brush and paint.

Whether I'm in a "don't wanna" mood, can't find an ounce of inspiration, or am overwhelmed by the task at hand, "just start" seems to be a good way to make something happen. Left foot, right foot, one foot in front of the other. Eventually, stuff gets done, sometimes at a surprisingly rapid clip ("where did that motivation come from??") and other times just perceptibly enough to push you a little bit further in the direction of your goal and make you feel satisfied that progress has been made. Regardless of whether you get another layer of gesso down or finally solve the logistical problem that's been holding you back for weeks, you'll have done infinitely more by "just starting" than had you done nothing.

N.B. I've been sitting on this blog post for months. I ignored the whisper to "just start" because the shout of "it's too much" was more powerful. I felt overwhelmed by the thought of writing this post, despite knowing deep down that it wouldn't be that hard... I just had to do it; carve out the time and do it. I suspect I was avoiding the task because I had 13 (now 12) unexplored blog posts waiting in my Drafts, which was starting to feel insurmountable. At least now I can call this one done! On that note, I should go paint...

An artist's staycation

I have blogged about my day job before. One of the perks of this day job is several weeks of allotted vacation time each year (a bit of a luxury...), and I usually try to fill those vacation days with something exciting, such as taking a trip somewhere. I have to confess, however, that I have not found travel to be as satisfying as I expected it to be. I'm simplifying things of course, but let's just say I decided to try some out-of-the-box thinking for the vacation time I had scheduled earlier this month. Instead of going anywhere at all, I decided to park it and dedicate my time to art, both in the studio and with the business.

After three days of extended weekend rest and normal activities, such as laundry and buying groceries, I rolled up my sleeves and dove into two weeks of living and working like an artist. I tried as best I could to reorient my brain and trick it into believing that this experiment was the real deal. I'm sure I failed at that (how can you really know what it feels like when your safety net is sitting right there, just a few miles away), but it did give me a better idea than any long weekend of "locking myself in the studio" ever could. I never lacked for art-related things to do! Here are just a few of the things that I accomplished during my artist's staycation:

1. Painted my first full gouache painting and sold it immediately.
2. Finished the second and third paintings in my Tus Labios series and then sold all three paintings.
3. Got to spend quality time with my clients when delivering the paintings they bought.
4. Spent more consecutive time in my studio than I have all year.
5. Did the Noto Art Walk in Topeka, Kansas and bought the art bench you see here; I may make it part of my studio!
6. Blogged more than I have all year.
7. Read about artists; researched artists; visited galleries to view the art; talked art any chance I got.
8. Pondered art business and talked about being an entrepreneur with friends who know about these sorts of things...
9. Took a field trip to Lucas, Kansas to see and use the mosaic and ceramic public toilet art installation. (I plan to do a separate blog post about that trip soon.)
10. Met with gallery owners in Lincoln, Kansas and have instructions to send a CD of available work to them. (I plan to write about this adventure as part of the Lucas field trip blog post.)
11. Visited Kansas Originals and bought a few small pieces of art for myself! (I plan to do a separate blog post about those artists soon.)
12. Finally updated my own website.
13. Slept in, relaxed, played my flute, etc.

Overall, it was a great staycation. I realize this was not representative of what it would be like to actually make my living as an artist, but it did allow me to test it out in some form and fashion. Perhaps I'll do it again in six months... Until then, here's hoping I can carve out some studio time...

The physicality of painting

The article linked here asks the question, "Are you licking your art?". The answer is, "If so, your posture is flawless." And yes, it is often like that. I personally have trouble really getting into a painting if I'm not kneeling over it. My knees don't like this too much, so I have to compromise and shift my weight around constantly. But the natural tendency is to hover, almost as if being intimate with a lover. (It is for this reason that I stick to quick-drying media, such as acrylic, watercolor, and gouache. I would have difficulties painting in oil; I would most likely end up sticking my elbow or palm in paint that has yet to dry...)

What people don't tell you ahead of time is how physical it can be to make art - even a painting! But as an artist, you must become very aware of your body in space, as well as your movements while working, to ensure you don't stay locked in a position too long. It can be easy to get lost in a painting and lose track of the fact you haven't unbent your legs for the last hour, which can lead to stiffness when you do attempt to stand up and walk around.

In order to tackle this issue and treat your body right, it can be a good idea to incorporate some simple yoga poses into your time in the studio. Also, it is important to stay aware of how long you typically spend contorted in a certain fashion, and schedule breaks accordingly.

I sometimes wonder if using an adjustable drafting table to support my canvases would help allow me to proverbially lick my painting while not compromising my ligaments. At the very least, I probably need to do a little more cat rolling and upward facing dog in order to keep the artistic momentum going and not get "stuck"...

The photo you see here was taken as part of the prep for Te Gusto, ¿de Verdad?.

A book I read

A few years ago, I bought a book called The Pulse of Mixed Media: Secrets and Passions of 100 Artists Revealed", by Seth Apter. I thought the cover was pretty. And the artists seemed legit.

The book itself is an interesting array of questions posed to various mixed media artists, and their answers along with many images of their art. The layout is such that you don't feel compelled to read it cover-to-cover, but instead flip and peruse at your leisure. Despite the low-pressure style of the book, I've been trying to actually read it in a linear fashion lately, and to really look at the art in the process. It's a fun project, and I have now jumped to the internet to enhance the experience.

What I mean by this is I'm starting to look up the artists online, starting with Orly Avineri. When I discover artists I'd like to follow, I'll add them to the "My Blog List" section in the right side-bar.

I'm only just getting started, and this blog post is a way of committing to this activity in an effort to learn more about contemporary artists working in different spheres of influence.

Sales motivate me to keep painting... Flint Hills Sunset: SOLD!!!!

The original Flint Hills Sunset just sold! While I've thoroughly enjoyed hanging this on my living room wall for the past few months, I'm so glad to know it has a new home.

I'm probably not supposed to share this next part with you, but... I like it when my paintings sell. Sales motivate me to create more work. Sales inspire me to pick up the brush and get painting. Sales help me to feel a part of my value as an artist. To some artists and teachers, those are not the right reasons to continue making art. Some folks would argue that art created for entrepreneurial reasons - or for any reason other than creating art for art's sake - is misguided. I could sit here and state the same - because that point of view does have merit. I could claim that the urge to create art and express myself artistically are the only things driving me to produce artwork, and that sales are just a byproduct of such a dedication to art itself. But I'd be lying if I wrote that.

While it is true that what drove me to make art in the first place was indeed a primal urge to express myself and explore my creativity; and while it is true that I admire the artist that wholly embraces the conviction that art for art's sake is the only valid reason to make art; I have to admit that when I hit an artistic slump, selling a painting is the best way to invigorate me to dive back in to my craft.

I love it when you buy my work. I love it when you can't tell me exactly why you have to have it. I love it when you feel the value of the painting in the amount of money you paid me. I love it when you treat that piece of work like a treasure to be admired and cared for. I love it when you invite me visit the art you now own that I created and displayed in my home for a short while, before it made its way to you.

And I'm okay with this. I suppose that's what makes me a businesswoman as well, eh?

NOTE: Painting is no longer for sale; however, actual transaction will not take place until 2015.

Metablogging...

Why do I blog about art, especially given that I have so few followers? Well, I consider my blog to be a part of my art and the creative process. And while I love the fact that 17 people follow my blog, I would still do it even if I had zero followers.

I blog mostly for my own sake - to have a reference to what I did and how (this is why I list my paint mixtures and brushes used, in case I need to recreate something later), to have a record of my sales and donations, and to wax poetic about what art is, which helps me fine-tune my philosophies. I think partly because I have so few followers, I am more free in what I say, and I believe this contributes to the overall ongoing artistic dialogue that everyone is having all of the time.

Of course, I hope that someday my number of followers increases exponentially and that my thoughts about art are recognized beyond my current sphere of influence! If and when that happens, there will be lots of archival material for people to read.

This photo was taken in 2009 in Wamego, Kansas at the Art Walk I participated in. I was set up in the corner drugstore. It was fun!

I have a day job, and it's not in the arts...

When I first met with my new boss, one of the things he asked me was where the art and music (listed on my resume) fit into who am I, given that I work in a quality role at my company. Yes, it's true; by day, I follow rules and expect others to do so as well; by night, I try to break as many as I can. It may seem counter-intuitive that both of these realities apply to who I am, but I suspect I am neither right- nor left-brain dominant; and, as such, have different facets that need attention. I have a logical, ordered side to my persona that needs to be satisfied. On the other hand, I need to create and express myself and do things my own way. Some of what I do during the day actually does satisfy those needs (from a design standpoint), but it's just not colorful enough! Hence, I play in paint...

What is more, I'm trying to build my art business (which satisfies my left brain) so that if I decide to try for a career shift, I will already have traction and can avoid being a "starving" artist or having to go into debt to get things established. I find working in international business and quality management systems very applicable in this regard.

Disclaimer: This photo is from 2007!

Weirdo...

It's always interesting to hear theories about creativity and madness; artists and insanity; poets and the tortured soul. It seems that there is some science behind a creative person's tendencies, and I wonder what percentage of the time the associations are true. It makes you wonder what the most put-together artist is hiding... what might have inspired his or her art, music, poetry, or writing, despite an even-keeled veneer of sociability. Sometimes, to be sure, it is purely an interest in art and the beauty of expressiveness that drives a person to create. But there is also something to the notion that, sometimes, you "just have to get it all out". There is often an urgency that drives the artist - a sense that this emotion or this thought must be expressed now. At times it is cathartic. At times it is satiric. It can be beautiful. Other times it is shocking... violent... and shakes you to your core, only serving to reinforce something that you doubted could really be true. But, all the same, it must come out.

I think that perhaps the altered perspective that results when creative outlets are pursued is what gets in the way of others seeing an artist as "normal". I know that, for years, I didn't understand why I didn't or couldn't fit in. I sought to reject the "weird" label, even though I didn't have even the slightest clue of what normal meant. I still don't. The difference between then and now is that I have slowly accepted and even embraced being odd, if begrudgingly at times... For example, it still bothers me when I get rejected for a date because it is assumed that, because I am an artist, I am a weirdo. And it can be frustrating to not understand how others arrive at their conclusions or be able to interpret their thought processes because I share no common anchor. I suspect that my creative, artistic brain gets in the way, but these social hangups are balanced by learning that some people find my perspective to be a "breath of fresh air" or that my presence is inspiring.

If I could tell the weird child who couldn't relate to anyone just how to harness and utilize her unrelatability and crazy expressiveness, I would. But I can't go back in time, so I suppose I have to accept that the process of figuring out who I am needed to include wading through the muck of being strange.