Rarely this clean, but always interesting–my studio.

Last year, a fellow artist and I put on Keene’s very first open studio tour, the Keene Art Tour.

Few things in life are harder than getting a couple dozen artists together (figuratively), collecting checks (Paypal button next year!), gathering images and artist statements for the brochure (“Just take it from my website!”) and everything else entailed in creating a city-wide event. Fortunately, it was hugely successful, for visitors and artists alike.

The only thing harder?

Doing it again.

Artists forget how good the crowds were, how much they sold and how much fun they had. That’s normal. Artists, being human beings, are sort of hard-wired to only remember the hard work, the studio cleaning, and how much we hassled them for said images, statements and money.

I’m learning that as a show organizer, “getting an early start” this year really means, “Let’s spend longer trying to get the same components together as last year.” That’s a good lesson to learn.

Some of the cold feet-itis is understandable, too. The last few years have been hard for creative folks. Some have hunkered down, some have moved on, some have diversified, and others are in that awful stage known as “transition”–moving on from what we’ve done while not quite knowing what’s next. Change is hard, and rarely fun.

“I don’t have anything to sell!” says one artist. Another says, “The kind of work I do, I don’t have ‘things’ to sell. So why would I want to have an open studio??” “I don’t have any new work!” says another. “I might be busy that weekend. When do I have to let you know?” (The answer to this question, by the way, is “Two months ago.”)

So here’s my response to all these questions:

An Open Studio isn’t just about selling your work. It’s about telling your story.

It’s the strongest way to form a powerful connection not only with new customers, but also with current customers, your community, and with future artists. And it’s a way to revitalize your own connection with your art.

There’s one artist who does murals for public places. No ‘things’ to sell in their studio, so they don’t want to participate.

What a lost opportunity! Now, I have no desire to buy a mural. But I’ve always wondered what’s entailed. How did they get started doing this? How do they find out about proposals for public art, especially internationally? What is the design process like? Do they hire other people to help? How long does it take to paint a mural? What kind of paint do they use? How long does a mural last? Where is their work displayed? Do you get to travel a lot? What are the fun parts? What are the downsides? What the heck does their life LOOK like???

There’s a couple who are working on a graphic novel. No ‘art’ to show in their studio. People would be bored.

Really? I can think of a few dozen young artists who would give anything to know that that process looks like. How do you get started? Are you self-published or are you working with a publisher? What does that look like? Do you do the writing and the drawing, or do you collaborate? Is it possible to make a living doing this? Do you teach classes?

There’s an artist in transition who needs to sell their old work before they can can make new work. And they’re not very far along in the new work.

Artists go through transitions? Just like other people?? Is it hard? What made you stop making your old work? What would you like to do next? What do you think will stay the same, and what will change? What inspires you and sustains you through this difficult time?

There’s someone who has new galleries, and may not have any work available for sale.

Actually, this is one of the best problems to have. Do you have earlier work that you’ve kept? Do you have works in progress? And the finished pieces you’re ready to ship–can we just LOOK at them? If I want one, can I commission you to make one? There’s a waiting list?? Oh my gosh, I better get my order in NOW!

Meanwhile, in your horde of visitors (and everyone had hordes of visitors), there are people who wish they could do what you do. They want to meet the people who ran away to join the circus. You are actually in your studio, making incredible stuff every day–how fabulous! Be their art hero.

There are people in transition who need to know there’s a ‘there’ after ‘here right now.’ That perseverance and vision and hard work will get us through. Be their art hero.

There are people who hope someday to be in your shoes. There are artists-in-waiting who need to know that it’s possible to have that life, to make their own work, to carve out a place in the world for themselves. You are living proof that it can happen. Be their life hero.

There are all kinds of creative folks in a community, artists of all sorts who make this town a better, richer, more beautiful place to live. We do more than just fill art galleries or people’s homes with our work. We teach, inspire, enrich, model our values to our community. Be that community hero.

Open your work space, that incredible place where the magic happens, where your vision for your art becomes a reality. Let people see what your life looks like, for two precious days in November. Be that art hero.

Give yourself the gift of seeing yourself through other people’s eyes–the people who see you as creative, gifted, exciting, interesting, fortunate, blessed. Because we are. It’s easy to forget that in the slog of making our way in the world. Let our community help you remember.

Be your own hero.

Masculine/Feminine Part 1
Being a “good girl” may not make for a great artist….
read more.

Today is my article about what men could learn from women.

Masculine/Feminine Part 2
Being a “girly man” can make you better at selling your art…..read more.

Enjoy!

I didn’t get to know Edith Grodin until she was dying.

Oh, I knew who she was, and spoke to her many times. She and her husband, Dick, were huge supporters of the prestigious League of NH Craftsmen. I often saw her during the Craftsmen’s Annual Fair in August. Once Edith bought a lovely necklace from me for her granddaughter, a Gulf War veteran. That was the beginning of many enjoyable Grodin family visits in my booth. Soon three generations of Grodins were wearing my jewelry. Husband Dick and son Richard gently refused my generous offers of earrings (but finally accepted a small horse sculpture.)

Edith moved confidently throughout the League and its activities, serving on the Board of Trustees. She was good friends with many craftspeople, and respected by us all.

I thought we’d have a lifetime to get to know one another better.

We had only a year.

There came a Fair where she did not appear. Instead, a little note appeared in the Fair newsletter handed out each day. “I’ve lost my battle against cancer,” she said. And she asked for visitors.

Still, I hesitated. Some families hunker down during tough times. They don’t welcome outsiders. But my hospice volunteer training had made me a bit braver. And so I called one day. Dick answered the phone and encouraged me to come by.

So began an amazing journey, rich in laughter, good cheer and life lessons.

Edith was able to remain in her beloved home until her death. She faced it with peace in her heart (though she was “busy” and engaged til the end.) I had the sense she had done–or tried–her best, and knew it. That gave her great comfort. She voiced no regrets.

There were many, many sweet moments: Learning how Edith and Dick met, and how they built their life together.

There were some sober moments: Speculating on an afterlife. Wondering how her family would cope with her loss.

There were many, many funny moments. Her sense of humor was delightfully sharp and quick. She hungered for tidbits of news and gossip, eager to hear about the outside world. I shared some of my favorite gossip, and she shared hers.

My favorite time was when I called her after having surgery myself. I complained that my family was very supportive and caring–the first few days. After that, everyone mysteriously disappeared early in the day, forcing me to struggle on my own for coffee and other necessities.

Edith confided that her family had done the same thing–so solicitous the first few weeks. Then, when the novelty of the situation had worn off, not so quick to wait on her hand and foot. “But Edith,” I exclaimed, “You’re DYING!”

“I know, right?” she replied cheerfully.

I won’t go into Edith’s (and Dick’s) many years of military service, their wide and varied contributions to their many communities and causes. There are others who can speak better about that than I. Suffice to say, the word of the day at the Grodin household is service.

There was their service to their country, of course, extending several generations. And their fierce love of family and friends. They supported many good causes, and gave generously not with just money, but in words and time and attention.

To them, being a good citizen was not just being involved. It wasn’t just contributing. What astonished me was Edith’s desire to build something for a community that simply wasn’t there before. They would see a need, and work to meet it.

She and her best friend started a craft show, and ran it for many years. No wonder she felt so at home at the League’s Fair! She campaigned fiercely for their new headquarters in Concord, and was overjoyed the transition was accomplished in her lifetime. I soon lost track of all her achievements and projects and contributions. The list is long, and all of it amazing.

Over those last months, my respect and awe for this woman grew and grew.

And so did my determination to learn from her courage and dedication.

It was like she left me with a challenge: Find a need, and fill it! Don’t just stand there–do something! If nobody else will do it, do it yourself!

In the past year, I’ve helped Keene start its very own Open Studio Tour. I also created an event that’s long been dear to me–a garage sale for artists and craftspeople. In fact, I may miss her memorial ceremony because it’s the same day as the Keene Art Garage Sale, and I’m the only one running the show. Somehow, I don’t think she’d mind.

Small projects, in the greater scheme of things, I know. And yet I never thought I was capable of doing something like this, or that I would enjoy it so much.

I have Edith Grodin to thank for that. Her quiet pride in her achievements, her natural tendency to create opportunities for other creative people, in addition to those she made for her country, her community, her friends and her family, all inspired me to think bigger and do better.

It was a short year, but a rich one, and one I will always remember.

Thank you, Edith, and goodbye.

“I live my life in widening circle
That reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
But I give myself to it.

I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
And I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
A storm, or a great song?”

by Rainer Maria Rilke

by Luann Udell

Take good notes when you’re getting advice – even bad advice! Remember the only good thing I got from the fine craft “consultant”? I found that in my notes later. All I could remember from the session was bad stuff, insulting stuff, infuriating stuff. There was a tiny nugget of useful information in there. I would have missed it entirely if I’d relied only on my memory. [...]

Read the rest of this article atFine Art Views.

———————————————-
This excerpt appears courtesy of FineArtViews Art Marketing Newsletter by FASO,
a free email newsletter about art, marketing, inspiration and fine living for artists,
collectors and galleries (and anyone else who loves art).

For a complimentary subscription, visit: http://www.faso.com/art-marketing-newsletter

Read my whole article, published at Fine Art Views, a marketing newsletter for artists.

Continuing my last column on how—and how not to– get good advice.

4) There’s no such thing as a sure thing. (AKA There’s no one thing that will make your career.)

Usually, the best advice is simply what gets you to your next step. There shouldn’t be a huge risk involved. I mean a HUGE risk. Putting the advice into play shouldn’t cost $10,000 or make you take a second mortgage your house, or take any kind of gamble that could ruin your finances, your resources or your marriage. (Unless you’re trying to get out of a bad marriage!) Sometimes life calls for that kind of risk. For those people just starting out, or trying to suss out the next thing, it does not….

Click here. to read the rest of the article.

The person who asks you NOTHING about your work, your goals, your needs, will probably not give you advice worth listening to. [...]

Read the rest of this article at:
Fine Art Views

———————————————-
This excerpt appears courtesy of FineArtViews Art Marketing Newsletter by FASO,
a free email newsletter about art, marketing, inspiration and fine living for artists,
collectors and galleries (and anyone else who loves art).

For a complimentary subscription, visit: Fine Art Views’ art marketing newsletter sign up page

I got a comment on a blog post I wrote awhile back. You can read the original article here: TEN MYTHS ABOUT ARTISTS (That Will Prevent You From Becoming a SUCCESSFUL Artist…”

The reader wrote a scathing argument against my assertion, noting the usual suspects (Mozart, et al.) “Artists ARE born! Talent IS innate!”, the writer stated.

I thought long and hard about my decision. I love to hear your thoughts, your insights, your experiences, and I especially love to hear that what I’ve said has resonated with you or helped your on your own artistic journey. And I don’t mind being corrected from time to time (unless I suspect your motives.)

But finally I deleted the comment.

Let me tell you why.

First, I don’t write this blog to argue with people.

This isn’t a forum. This isn’t a venue for debate.

These are my opinions, my thoughts. My blog is a vehicle to get those thoughts out of my head and share them with others.

This blog is part of my creative process.

I totally get that you may violently disagree with me. If that’s the case, go start your own blog. Seriously. I may disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it. Just not here in my living room.

Second, the reader totally missed the point of my article.

Of course talent is innate. Of course Mozart had tons of talent. Of course most of us aren’t Mozart, and no amount of practice will ever make it so. Heck, I can barely carry a tune anymore, let alone play an instrument.

My point was, that many, many people don’t recognize the talent they have.
They believe they’re not “good enough” to use their talent.
They believe that because they’re not good enough, there’s no use putting their work out into the world.

Look, creativity IS innate. Everybody is good at something. Even a sociopath is very, very good at lying.

Creativity is a human trait. It’s just that throughout the ages, the definition of creativity–the lines we draw around it, the forms we deem acceptable–have narrowed, and broadened, and narrowed again.

We don’t just use our hands, or our voices, to grub for food, or to yell when a predator appears on the horizon. And we don’t just use our hands to draw things. We use our hands to make things, build things, grow things, cook things (yummy chocolate things!). We fix things, heal living things, comfort living creatures. We sing, we write stories, and poetry (and blogs!) We work for peace, or freedom, or equality. We work for understanding, and acceptance, and recognition.

Even destruction can create a space for something new to appear. (I am not advocating destruction, I’m just sayin’ that Shiva’s dance does both.)

When we create, we are all that, and more.

I believe the greatest harm, the greatest loss, is when we deny the world–and ourselves–the beauty and power of our creativity.

We get way too judgy about creativity. (I made that word up. See how creative I am?)

We care waaay too much what the world will think of our efforts. We care way too much about what WE think of our efforts.

Quick story: My husband’s mother was a talented pianist as a young woman, with dreams of performing in public. But at some point, she realized she would never be a world-class pianist.

She never played the piano again.

Another quick story: My husband has been “noodling” on a guitar for as long as I’ve known him, thirty-five years. The last few years, he’s gotten more dedicated about it. He’s reaching out to play with others. He’s found new online methods of learning. He’s taking lessons. He’s considered performing in public venues, on a very modest scale. He reads books about music, about musicians, about the effect of music on the brain. He watches documentaries about music. Lord love him, he tries to drag me to every live music performance in the area.

Will he ever be famous for his guitar playing? Probably not.
Will he ever make money doing it? Nah.
Is he good? I think so, especially when he actually plays instead of practices. (I’m one of those people who winces at every sour note.)

So why does he do it?

Because he likes it. Actually…he loves.

And it makes him happy.

Innate talent?
Mozart?
True vocation?

Yes, maybe.
No.
I dunno.
Who cares?

When I look at him, deep in his practice, struggling to master a new tune or a new technique, I know he is also deep within himself. Truly himself. In the best way possible.

And that, my argumentative friend, is all that truly matters.

If only we’d used the ice melt BEFORE Jon slipped and dislocated his shoulder…..

In the turmoil, I barely found time to write, let alone come up with something cohesive enough to post.

But a simple lesson I’d forgotten about raised it’s pretty little head last week.

And suddenly, something post-able appears.

Someone asked about affirmations. Popularized by The Artist’s Way by Julie Cameron, it’s a morning writing practice of stating what you wish for, as reality, here and now. It’s a way of making room for what you want, in the moment.

Now, I’ve been writing about life lessons and museum studies, hospice and art-making. And I’m very good at writing gratitude lists, where I remind myself what’s good about my life, instead of dwelling on the bad.

But I haven’t done affirmations for ages.

I wrote this morning about how overwhelmed and anxious I’m feeling about rearranging/repurposing/renovating our home the past few years. We’re expecting another, potentially long-term guest in a few weeks, and we’re scrambling to make room for her. I’m depressed about our clutter (okay, my clutter), in our home and in my studio. I’ve felt down and spongey. (Is that a word??) Maybe porous–everything coming in and wreaking havoc in my ruminating brain.

I started to write, “I am moving to a less cluttered…..”

NO.

(Yes, I stopped myself in mid-word!)

Suddenly, I thought, what if I quit writing about mastering clutter?
What if I wrote about why we’re dealing with clutter?

What if I wrote an affirmation for our home?

Our home is open to people who need a home.
Our home is open to people who yearn for companionship.
Our people is open to those who need a laugh… A Yankee Swap,
a Bad Movie Night,
a pizza and beer.
Our hope is open to us aging gracefully.
Our home is open to new possibilities.
Our home is open to animals who need a home.
Our home is a haven to people in transition.
Our home provides work and income to those who need it.
Our home celebrates family, friendship, and transition.
Our home is warm and cozy and eclectic and artsy.
Our home is filled with new projects and innovation.
Our home supports both of our vocations, and our avocations.
Our home is full of good intentions, and acts of kindness.
Our home is open to reconciliation.
Our home is full of ever-changing light.
Our home can stretch or shrink.
Our home has sheltered people for over 175 years.
Our home has weathered storms and risen above floods.
Our home holds new potential, and old memories.
Our home is a blend of the old, the modern, and the ultra-modern.
Our home is gracious.
Our home amuses people, welcomes people, amazes people and confuses people.
Our home is where our kids finished their childhood, and it’s where they come back to when things get hard.
Our home is a place where there’s always room for one more. Or two. Or three.
Our home has many sofas, and warm blankets.
Our home even has a fireplace that works–twice!
Our home has many attics and a dry basement and a good roof.
Our home can handle all our needs and desires, our ever-changing pasttimes and our hopes and dreams.
Our home can change to suit the needs we have today.
Our home has a kitchen that can hold many cooks–as long as it’s just one or two at a time.
Our home is a haven.
Our home is filled with love and wistfulness,
with love and angry words,
with love and slamming doors,
with love and reconciliation,
with love and new respect,
with love and laughter,
with love and sadness,
with love and gratitude,
with love and healing.

Our home is filled with love.

So here it is, for you, today.
An affirmation.
A different way of looking at things, today.

Now, please excuse me while I drop of two more bags at the thrift shop, a couple to the garbage, and an errand to Home Depot for more closet organizers.

Well, now you can experience it for yourself! I’m goin’, and I hope you’ll join me!

A WORKSHOP ON MANAGING TIME TO SUPPORT CREATIVITY
FRIDAY, JANUARY 25TH 2013
HANNAH GRIMES CENTER, 25 ROXBURY STREET, KEENE NH

9AM TO 4PM

COST: $150

Call to Artists and Entrepreneurs: Invest a day in learning some resourceful and “out of the box” ways to approach managing your time and energy from an Integral Coach™ who specializes in advancing the capacity of artists and creative entrepreneurs.

• Learn the secrets of generating creative states more consciously and within time frames
• Get to know your relationship with time and how to work with it instead of against it.
• Come away with new methods for managing your energy so that you can make the very best use of time.

Lyedie Geer is a Certified Integral Coach™ who brings twenty-five years of experience in the areas of leadership, artistry and entrepreneurship along with a Masters Degree in Management & Leadership to her coaching practice. Lyedie has managed a number of artists over the years and is currently devoting herself to coaching. Her professional experience ranges from philanthropic roles in education and the arts to small business ownership. She was the Founding Director of The Moving Company Dance Center
(Now known as MOCO) and is currently serving as Vice President of the Board at Brattleboro Museum & Art Center.

($50 DISCOUNT TO Creative Professionals Guild MEMBERS WHO SIGN UP BY JAN. 11TH)

http://www.Lyedie.com

802-881-3124

LYEDIE.GEER@GMAIL.COM

LYEDIE GEER – INTEGRAL COACH™ AND COUNSEL

L. Lyedecker Geer, MS ICC “Lyedie”
Integral Coach™ and Counsel
Leadership, Artistry, Entrepreneurship
Walpole, New Hampshire 03608

“Advancing my clients’ capacity in the fields that deeply matter to them.”

Website: http://www.Lyedie.com
Email: lyedie.geer@gmail.com
Voice: 802-881-3124