BEING NICE vs. BEING KIND

“Being nice” is about caring about what other people think. “Being kind” is about you caring–and choosing–to be a better person.

From the moment we tried to grab a toy from another kid, (or tried to get back the toy they took from us) we’re told to “be nice”.

When that boy in on the bus said horrible, horrible things to us, we were told “he didn’t really mean it.” We’re not allowed to be  angry. We’re told to “be nice”.

Even Disney rubbed it in,  when Thumper says, “If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.” (Bambi)

“Nice” is a facade, a mask we’re supposed to wear in order to be seen as a ‘good’ person–especially women. At best, we may do it out of fear, to protect ourselves, or to avoid confrontation.

At worst, we do it so we don’t have to go deeper. It lets us off the hook for meaningful engagement. So being ‘nice’ can also be a social cop-out

Being ‘nice’ simply in order to get something you want is patronizing and shallow. When I hear about a guy complaining because a woman they just met, doesn’t want to sleep with him, even though he’s a “nice guy”, I want to say, “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.” (Courtesy of Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride.)

To this day, even when someone is behaving badly, even to me, to my horror, I rarely ever confront them (except my poor husband). Instead, I back off or walk away. To call someone on their behavior is “not nice.” Heaven forbid I hurt someone’s feelings after they’ve just shredded mine.

Being nice hasn’t served me.

On the other hand, what about kindness? Let’s strive for that instead.

Being kind means being a real person, and striving to see others as real people, too.

Choosing to be kind is to create a state of compassion, to have empathy with another person or living thing.

It can be as simple as seeing–really seeing–another person, even if you cross paths for a few seconds.  A smile. A step aside to let them go by. Holding a door.  Even a quarter in the cup.

It can be as powerful as being a witness, recognizing what someone else is going through, and celebrating if-and-when they reach the other side. Being present, during a rough patch in their life, or at the end of life.

I’ve spent a lifetime being nice.

Now I want to focus on being kind.

 

 

 

DO THE RIGHT THING

No good deed goes unpunished. Do the right thing anyway.

If you are a decent person in the world, you want to do the right thing.

You want to be generous. You want to be helpful. You want to share what you’ve learned.

I love that line from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, when Gene Wilder/Willy Wonka says, “So shines a good deed in a wear world…”*

It sends a shiver down my spine even thinking of it. Acts of kindness, compassion, courage all make the world a better place.

I believe my artwork, and my writing, is a way to be that good deed. I share what I’ve learned, I share my stumblings and muddling, I try to be my authentic self. I do it so people can see (if they choose)  they have something to offer the world, too. Sharing our creative work is essential, and healing, and powerful.

Before you rush to “help”, though, consider these thoughts:

Ask the turtle. Don’t assume you know what is needed. Find out. Our assumptions get in the way. People who don’t know what they don’t know, and who don’t want to find out, just make things worse.

Don’t judge. I remember being told, “Don’t give money to street people, they’ll only spend it on booze and drugs!” So I didn’t. Until I learned that living on the streets is hard, and frightening, and dark. Someone who knew better said, “If they turns to drink or drugs to comfort themselves, who are you to judge?” A recent article on a homeless-outreach group suggests we lie down on the sidewalk before we judge. “How vulnerable do your feel, with your head on the concrete, exposed and unprotected? Scary, right? That’s how these people feel every single day.” Research now shows that creating safe havens and housing for the homeless is critical to helping them get the services they need–because being on the street is so traumatic, not much can be done until they have a place to call home.  Only then can they begin to heal.

Don’t feed the vampires. In our rush to help, we may encounter vampires, in the most surprising places. Vampires are people who feed on the attention and emotions of others. Sometimes they are simply needy and desperate. Often they already have so much, but it’s never enough. Recognize the black holes in the world. The people who will take and take and take, who feel you/the rest of the world, owe them.

Don’t do it for the thank-you.  We’ve all had the experience of taking on a tough project, contributing, volunteering, often unpaid, as a way of giving back to our community. Inevitably, there’s the jerk who is quick to let you know you’re doing it wrong. They are negative and critical. They are the ultimate back seat, constantly telling the driver where to go. My husband’s comment is, “No good deed goes unpunished!” The response I always stifle is, “I think the word you’re looking for is “thank you”….”

In this TV episode of Supernatural , (a guilty pleasure of mine. Remember the “don’t judge” thing!) Bobby the boogieman hunter is dying. He has to revisit his worst memory, a scene from his horrific childhood, the day he killed his abusive, violent father to save his mother. It’s his original story, his core story, the reason he chose to spend his life fighting evil in the world.

It’s also where he learns for the first time that the people you save will not thank you:

You did what you had to do. This is where you learn that… they pretty much never say thanks when you save ’em.

There are reasons for this, but I’m not getting into that today. My point is this:

Don’t expect gratitude. Don’t do it for the thank-you.

Do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do.

*”How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”

–William Shakespeare (The Merchant of Venice)

DOES STORYTELLING WORK??

This article by Luann Udell originally appeared on Fine Art Views, an art marketing blog hosted by Fine Art Studios Online.

DOES STORYTELLING WORK?

 Yes. Yes, it does.

 For years now, I’ve advocated for creative people telling their stories. I believe the “why” of what we do is far more powerful than just the “how”.

I also know that some artists have fought long and hard for their credentials—their education, the shows they’ve been juried into, the awards they’ve won. Anything else seems, well, unprofessional. Perhaps even fluffy.

I get it. I do. When I first started my art career, I methodically entered all kinds of juried exhibits. I’m proud of the awards I’ve won. I’m especially delighted when my professional peers—other artists, galleries, etc.—sing my praises. After all, they see a lot of work. When they choose mine for their own homes, it’s a major thumbs-up for me.

I also know how extremely uncomfortable some people feel about sharing what’s in their heart and soul. They feel safe sticking to the tried-and-true. What they do is working for them, so I won’t ask them to change that.

And yet…..

I spent a weekend at a state-wide storytelling workshop, a collaboration between our Sonoma County Library, Creative Sonoma (of the Sonoma County Economic Development Board), the California State Library and StoryCenter.org. The project’s goal was to gather 100 stories that represent the ‘voices’ of California.

You can read more at http://www.storycenter.org/.

Ten people from Sonoma County were selected to share their stories, which would be transformed into ‘digital stories’—recorded in our own voices, with images, and music—no more than two or three minutes in length.

As a matter of full disclosure, I was NOT one of the original ten people selected. Someone else dropped out, and I was offered their place.

Also, when we first told our stories to the group, I said I had no trouble telling stories. Keeping it to 300 words? Almost impossible.

Two huge things happened during the class.

First, I was overwhelmed with technical difficulties. My laptop crashed, my internet connection wouldn’t take, I had trouble working with the video production software (WeVideo.com). I was the absolute last person to create a video, and it’s really not even finished yet. (I’ll be putting the last details on it in the upcoming week—I hope!) That was hard. There’s a steep learning curve to any video editing process, my husband reassures me, and at least I’ve discovered SoundCloud and CreativeCommons.com, social sharing sites for images and music. A challenge, but it’s good to challenge ourselves.

The second thing is wonderful. I was astonished and amazed by the stories people brought to share.

Every single person had a story. Each was very different from the other (although most people were involved in the creative arts.) Some were funny, some were hard. Some weren’t resolved yet. Some had no ‘answer’. But each one was intriguing.

And these are only our first stories. I realized there will be many more to come.

Here was another powerful aspect of these stories:

I remembered everyone’s name in the class, something that’s usually problematic for me.

I remembered everyone’s story.

And everyone’s story was powerful beyond words.

Not all the stories sounded like winners during our first ‘sharing’. This was probably due to the fact that some folks hadn’t actually shared them before. They rambled, they had trouble finding the ‘point’. Some stories were so new, people were was still working through them.

But in the composition and editing process (and our teachers’ experience guiding us), we learned to find the ‘hooks’. We were strongly encouraged to not tell several stories at once, something I struggle with. (Hence, my 1,000-word articles!) We found our strong beginnings, and our thoughtful endings.

Images were powerful. Music helped connect.

And our voices?  Oh, our voices…..

We each created a ‘script’ of our stories, and read and recorded them.

And every single one of us nailed it on the first reading.

One instructor marveled at this. “Even the people who insisted on a second take? Their first version was better!” she said.  “And everyone read it with such power…it’s astonishing!”

At the end of the class, we watched the (mostly) finished videos. Each one was a winner.

You don’t have to rush out and create a video (although I’m definitely going to explore this further.) You don’t have to have a full-media story telling experience to connect with an audience. Although I hope it’s not lost on you that, as artists, we already have our visuals. In fact, I used images of my artwork, as my story was about how I became an artist in mid-life.)

I do hope you’ll consider telling your story to your audience.

A thousand people here in Northern California paint the ocean, the vineyards, the rolling hills. Every artist captures the light, a moment in time, or a glimpse of something hidden. Many are beautiful, and most are at least competent.

And yes, there are people who, unsure of their decision, will be reassured you are as good as you say you are, by reading your list of accomplishments and awards, or checking the well-known galleries that carry your work..

But a good story, a story that connects your experience to those of your customers, will make you stand out from the crowd.

Create that powerful connection. Make your mark.

Be unforgettable.

 

Monkey Mind Manners

Yesterday I wrote about the one-minute meditation that can help soothe your monkey mind.

First, let me clarify my two metaphors. I use ‘lizard brain’ a lot. And now I’m using ‘monkey mind’. Is there a difference?

For me, the lizard brain is the part of me that’s angry, jealous, resentful, scared:

When someone else does it better than me, and my immediate reaction is, “Why them, and not me??” When I see someone else’s fabulous work, and my immediate reaction is, “My work’s just as good!” When someone else gets into that show/gets that award/has more sales/success/whatever-the-fear-flavor-of-the-day is, and I think, “My work’s better than theirs, why did they get it/in/that and not me?!” Grrrrrrrrrr!!!!! GRRRRRRRR!!!!

Monkey mind is the squeaky, insecure, scared, self-doubting, worry-wart, over-thinking everything:

“Why doesn’t that person like me?? Did I do something wrong? Maybe when I said blah she thought I meant blah. Should I have said blah? Should I ask her? ” “Why didn’t anyone buy this necklace?? Am I charging too much??” (Since I don’t even earn minimum wage, that is really scary!) “I can’t figure this out! What’s wrong with me?? Am I losing it? Will I end up in the streets??” Blah blah blah blah and more blah.

Lizard brain and monkey brain are both scared, and angry.

When threatened, lizard brain attacks ‘the other’.

When threatened, monkey brain attacks me.

Neither one serves me.

I have a mantra for lizard brain:

Life is a pie. If I believe the pie is finite, then when someone else gets a piece of pie, that means there’s less for me.

But if I believe the pie is infinite in size, then there’s enough pie for everyone.

So what’s my mantra for monkey mind?

Not sure yet. But I know having compassion for monkey mind (rather than berating it, because after all, it’s me) and giving it something to distract it (“Here, count my breathes with me!”) helps.

I read something years ago that stays with me: “You are not that anxious voice in your head. You are the person listening.” This helps.

What is your mantra for lizard and monkey? Share!

 

Quieting Down the Monkey Mind

It only takes a minute. Really. You have 60 seconds, don’t you?

I dunno what’s going on the last few months. Oh wait, yes, I do. I had foot surgery, and accomplished not very much. (OTOH, I read a LOT of books! So THAT was good….)

I still run out of energy early in the evening. So I go to bed early.

And then the monkey mind takes over.

“I’m not doing it right.”

“I’m doing it right, but people are telling me I’m doing it wrong.”

“People don’t like me.”

“Well, actually, I don’t like them.”

“I’m a fake.”

“I’m not a fake!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I said I’d do something, but I didn’t. Okay, I did it, but I didn’t do a very good job. Okay, it’s a good enough job, but somebody gave me crap about it.”

“I should be better/kinder/smarter/funnier/thinner/more active/more patient/more appreciated/humbler/more assertive/oh-God-is-this-all-there-is-t0-life??? Self-doubt, self-denigration, righteous indignation??”

After a few months of this, I wondered if California was really were we are supposed to be.

Ahhhh, monkey mind…..

Unfortunately, there’s no permanent cure for monkey mind. Like an appendix, it’s ancient self-preservation thingie that doesn’t serve us well in our modern world.

But we can take tiny steps, daily, to soothe it. Tiny steps that slowly, but surely, get us back to our happy, productive, peaceful place in the world.

How do I get there?

For starters, I found this one-minute video online. One minute that helps you calm your monkey.

Second, watch for what crosses my path.

I contacted a friend recently. She asked me how I was doing. I wrote back, “A little bobbled…We feel up in the air again, some critical things missing. But also realizing we have to sit with uncertainty, or we’ll drive ourselves crazy!! Does that make sense??”

She wrote back, “Yes. I sit with it on a daily basis….until clarity presents herself.”

And then it hit me: I wasn’t ‘sitting with uncertainty’. I was struggling with it. Fighting it. Trying to sort it all out. And when I tried to sleep, it rolled over me like a giant wave, trying to take me out to sea.

Sitting with uncertainty… There it was, right in front of me like a Pokemon Go critter.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

And now I look up at my desk, where a pile of little horses, bears, and otters are waiting to be turned into ‘worry stones’….

I feel better already!

(Thanks and a hat tip to Sheri Gaynor, feisty woman!)

I thought I made these to expand my product line. Nope. I needed them for myself!

 

 

A LITTLE BIT OF MAGIC

(Originally published on the SOFA Santa Rosa website)

Today I only had a little time to spend at my studio in the SOFA Santa Rosa Arts District. (I’m at 300 S. A Street, #3, just down Atlas Coffee Alley.) This, after an entire morning of last-minute tasks, re-do’s, oh-I-forgot-I-have-to’s….  Every time I thought I was ready to leave, I’d remember one more thing….  Argh!!

When I finally got there, I unlocked my door and entered.

Then I realized I didn’t have what I needed to work on my next project. Drat.

Here’s where the magic happens:

A woman appeared. “I’m admiring your window!” she said. “Are dogs allowed?”

What dog?? Oh. There, hidden by the bottom half of my Dutch door, was a sweet, very friendly dog.

I love my Dutch door! Especially when the jasmine is blooming across the walk. Do you Californians know how amazing that is???

I let them in.

“We’re visiting that photography show  at Christie Marks’ gallery,” she explained. “I have the dog while my husband takes a look. Then he’ll take the dog so I can see it!”

We talked a little about the show (which is AMAZING!) Then I left her alone to browse my studio. (I got to pet the pup.)

She saw my new Sonoma County Art Trails postcard. Coincidentally (or is it??), Christie is also on the card, along with Cat Kaufman and Mary Linnea Vaughn.)  “Oh! May I take one of your cards? We’ll come back for your open studio!”

Sweet!

Here’s where the magic gets even bigger:

She asked me if I’d consider submitting a piece for the upcoming “Landscape” show at Sebastopol Center for the Arts. (Oct. 21 – Nov. 27, 2016)

“I would,” I said, “But I don’t do landscapes.”

“I think that looks like a landscape!” she said, pointing to a small wall hanging behind my desk. “And you’d probably be the only artist in your medium!”

Sure enough, it could ‘read’ as a landscape.

I said I would certainly do that. She gave me all kinds of information–filling out an online entry form, the hours for delivering work, etc.

“Are you an artist yourself?” I asked her. “Do you volunteer at SCA?”

“Not really an artist, but I wish I were,” she said. “I just love supporting the arts, and SCA is a great organization.”

I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. Artists thrive when they are supported by their community. People who give their time to do that are golden.

We talked more. I promised to bring in my newly-recognized landscape. She joined my mailing list. Then she and pupster left to join her husband.

What are the chances she would show up at exactly the moment I unlocked my door?

I could have missed her by five minutes. By ten minutes Or I might have left before she even got there?

What are the chances she was not only familiar with Art Trails, and SCA, but also a dedicated volunteer, familiar with their shows?

What are the chances she spotted the one piece that could conceivably qualify as a landscape?

Yep. This happens all the time here in the Arts District.

Because when you are making the work of your heart, wonderful things cross your path every single day…if you look for them.

I don’t even know how she spotted it in all the…er…visual clutter. But she did! (It’s the brassy-gold horizontal one at the top.)

Our Art Trails postcard! Come see us!

ETERNAL STUDENT

Learning new stuff is hard, and uncomfortable. But it’s good for us.

Last weekend, I took part in a digital storytelling workshop. It’s a state-wide project, collecting the multi-media stories of 100 California residents, a collaboration between Sonoma County  Library, Creative Sonoma (of the Sonoma County Economic Development Board), the California State Library and StoryCenter.

In two days, ten of us created our personal story, subjected it to intense editing (I don’t think I’ve ever written a story in 350 words or less….), recorded our telling, and added images, music, and text.

It was awful.

How come I know how to make ancient artifacts, but I can’t figure out how to fix my email addy???

No, no, the project is amazing. The presenters were awesome. My fellow storytellers were incredible people. And the stories were powerful.

It was learning a video-making process that was so excruciating.

I’ve never used a video editing program before. (We used WeVideo.)

I had issues with my laptop (I accidentally used Google Chrome as my browser instead of Mozilla Firefox, and it kept locking up my computer til I figured out what was going on.) I had issues with my internet connection.

The worst part was, as I struggled to work out these issues, I would ‘space out’ and miss the next steps. My notes–usually quite orderly and thorough–looked like gibberish. Other people were working on their third or fourth draft of their video, and I hadn’t even recorded my story yet!

I felt like an idiot, and a giant crab to boot. (After a certain point, I do not deal with frustration well.) (I don’t think anyone in my group ever wants to talk to me again.)

Fortunately, when I dumped on my husband, Jon said EVERY video editing tool has a steep learning curve.

It simply takes time. And practice. And not giving up.

I also remembered a valuable lesson from writing my first book . I wanted to cover everything about stamp-carving. My editor gently held me back. “Save that for your next book….” she said.

My next book….

That helped. This was my first story on digital multi-media.

There will be more.

Today was my aha moment: I’d forgotten all about the four stages of competency.

This is how we learn.

This is how we move forward.

This is how we grow.

By stepping out of our comfort zone, and trying something new.

So SuperCrab here will persevere. After all, the one thing I learned in martial arts is gold…

A black belt is a white belt who didn’t quit.

P.S. Actually, now I’m learning how to manage a new website for our local arts district. I’m hoping I have hair left when I’m done.

P.P.S. A huge shout-out to Jon Udell (dear hubby) and Alex Kaufman (who rebuilt our hacked SOFASantaRosa website) for all the technical coaching and patience these last two weeks.

 

 

BRING OUT YER DEAD

Today’s post was originally published on Fine Art Views

This post is by Luann Udell, regular contributing author for FineArtViews. She’s blogged since 2002 about the business side–and the spiritual inside–of art. She says, “I share my experiences so you won’t have to make ALL the same mistakes I did….”  For ten years, Luann also wrote a column (“Craft Matters”) for The Crafts Report magazine (a monthly business resource for the crafts professional) where she explored the funnier side of her life in craft. She’s a double-juried member of the prestigious League of New Hampshire Craftsmen (fiber & art jewelry). Her work has appeared in books, magazines and newspapers across the country and she is a published writer.

 Don’t bury your lede. Keep it up front, in its most powerful position.

 I love helping people write artist statements. Especially if I’ve had an opportunity to actually sit and talk with the artist. Especially if I’ve had an opportunity to pound them over the head with this one simple question:

 Why should I care about your art?

I try to tread carefully. I know how deeply artists care about their work, and what they want to say about it.

OTOH, if I have to read one more artist statement about line, color, texture, about boundaries and schisms, about anything that could have come from an Artsy Bollocks, I swear I will do damage to someone.

If I have a chance to meet with someone, or at least talk with them, my job gets easier. Because everyone has a story, a reason, a turning point in their history, that’s the deeper “why” about what they do.

And coincidentally, usually this powerful reason, if they include it at all, is at the very end of their statement.

It’s called burying your lede.

(I’ve been spelling “bury the lead” wrong for ages. Turns out that the preferred spelling for the introductory section of a news story. My bad! And I’ve corrected it.)

This writing structure is the bane of journalism and professional writing. We run on about our background, our training, our credentials, our methods, our materials, our media, etc. etc. And there, at the very end, is the deeper reason for it all.

It’s natural. Many of us were not raised to share our deepest, richest thoughts and history. We worry we’ll embarrass ourselves, admitting to pain, or loss, or even joy. No, we must be professional. Which means not a single sentimental, fluffy, unmanly thought will pass our lips. Er…pencil.

Here’s why it’s time to change that:

I know people who have known each other a very long time. They’re all artists themselves. They’ve also spent years—decades!—actually working in art galleries.

Over the years, there’s been a marked change in the world of art marketing. “It used to be,” said one, “Artists created work for the market. They figured out what was selling, and they worked accordingly, finding their niche in that market.”

“And now it’s flipped! The trend is to make the work that is unique to you—and find your market for it!”

That’s why the old artist statement style of the past is no longer working.

People want to know who you are.

People want to know why you make the work you do.

A few artists are sticking their toes into the new water. It’s very hard. It goes against everything they’ve seen to date.

But what we gain when we open our hearts, and stop hiding behind our work, is huge. It’s powerful.

This doesn’t mean your new statement has to read like a letter to Dear Abby. No need to hang all our dirty laundry in public.

But you need to understand….

Everyone has lost someone.**

Everyone wants to be loved, and respected, for who they are.

Everyone is longing for something.

Everyone needs to be protected from something.

Everyone has obstacles to overcome.

Everyone has a dream in their heart.

Because we are all human.

Our individual stories are as unique as we are. And yet we are all connected by common themes, similar fears, shared needs, and dreams.

It is also right on trend to be vulnerable. It’s now perfectly acceptable to wear your heart on your sleeve.  It’s been my own mantra for years. And now we have company!

Because other people want what you have—a vision, a talent, a gift, a story—for themselves.

And when you share what you’ve lost, what you’ve gained, what you’ve found, what you’ve learned, what you’ve overcome, you are actually setting an example for them.

You’re showing them it can be done. You’re showing them how to do it.

That is the power of our true narrative. It helps us connect the work of our hand, the work of our hearts, to the hearts of others.

Your story can inspire. It can heal. It can encourage.

So go out on a limb today.

Get out your artist statement. Cross out every reference to education, technique, medium, credentials.

You can only reference one or two of these, if you can share why you chose this medium, this technique. (And no, “Because I just love color” is not enough.)

For example, one reason I chose polymer clay to make my artifacts is, no animals are harmed in the making. (E.g., I don’t want to use real bone or ivory.)

“There’s a really good reason why I use polymer clay to make my artifacts.”

Look for your power sentence. The one that, if you were speaking aloud, would make you stand up straighter, would make your voice more sure.

Put it right up front where it belongs. Take that buried lede—and lead with it!

Build that bridge, from your work, to your audience.

If you build it, they will come.***

Footnotes:

*”Bury the lede” made me think of dead bodies, which made me think of the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, with its infamous plague scene and the memorable quote, “Bring out yer dead!!”

**I also got to quote Guardians of the Galaxy!!

***And Field of Dreams!!!!  Triple play!