LESSONS FROM THE GYM: Be Kind, Unwind.

Luann Udell discusses how to seek out what brings you joy, and peace in your heart.

by Luann Udell
33 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | creativity | FineArtViews | inspiration | Luann Udell

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.

Where is your happy place? Go there today!

I promise I will stop whining about my very hard year, but not yet. For now, it still holds many life lessons for me.

Life lessons are hard, though, especially when we love them so much, we learn them over and over and over again.

Maybe too many lessons this year? Loss. Grief. Forgiveness. Being vulnerable. Looking for the light. Leaving “the group”. Setting boundaries. Sometimes I think Brene Brown is writing just for me.

Mostly, though, I know we all struggle with who we are in the world, and who we WANT to be. Being human can be hard work. Being a good human is exhausting.

Except when it isn’t. And that’s what I want to share with you today, this holiday season.

Monday I spoke with a physical therapy person at the gym where I get (doh!) physical therapy. (I use their independent gym program. Most of the patrons are even older than I am. So at least I’m not looking at healthy, fit, beautiful youngsters working out at five times the level and six times the speed I am.)

I complained about the chronic aches and pains I’m struggling with. It never stops, and it never gets better. With everything else on my plate, it feels like injury heaped on insult. (Yes, I know I have that backwards, but it works here.)

They asked me about my activity level. I replied it’s minimal, because a) everything hurts, and b)….well, everything hurts!

They reminded me yet again that hunkering down makes everything worse. “Our bodies are made to move,” they said. “When was the last time you went for a walk?”

Er…..can’t remember???

All of us have some discomfort, or ache, or even pain. We all want a very simple solution: All of us want a pill to make it better.

A temporary fix, in most cases. And we all know the dangers of self-medicating. It helps for awhile. And then it doesn’t. Then the self-medicating creates its own problems.

So….no pill?!  Dang.

“Go for a walk,” they said. “If you can’t walk for 30 minutes, walk for 10 minutes three times a day. It’s not how long, or how hard, or how fast you do it. It all counts. Try it.”

Honestly, I wanted to cry. I want my simple, easy solution! It hurts to move! EVERYTHING hurts—my body, my feelings, my conscience, my spirit. I want to be distracted from my problems! I want to watch endless TV in comfort!! I want my Christmas cookies!!!

“Everybody hurts somewhere”, they said, with compassion. (The compassion part almost made me cry.) “Just try it.”

Fortunately, the next day was a beautiful, sunny day, a rare break from the winter’s rain. It was Christmas Day, but with no family here, a tight budget, a tiny tree that took 10 minutes to set up, there wasn’t much to do at home.

Remembering those words of wisdom, my husband and I went for a walk. Not a big walk. Just a walk through our neighborhood, but a new route. It’s a tradition we had back in Keene NH, where we would walk downtown every morning for coffee before we both started our day.

We’ve skipped that for years now. No coffee shop. Jon starts his day early, to catch up with co-workers on the East Coast.

We’ve missed it. So we walked.

It was great! We talked. The dogs explored new bushes to pee on. We imagined ourselves living in the pretty little houses with wonderful gardens. That garage could be a new studio! That house has a lemon tree! Wow, smell those roses!!!

We agreed it needs to be part of our day again.

I went to my normally-best happy place, my studio, to work. Unfortunately, it’s not my happy place lately. My future there is in upheaval, and everything there reminded me of that.

And yet….

I thought if I had more tiny wind-swept beach pebbles, I could use them to add a delightful accent to an assemblage I’m working on for an upcoming solo exhibition.

I remembered there are tiny, wind-polished beach pebbles on a beach at Point Reyes.

I’m a pebble puppy, and I’m proud!

I realized we had enough daylight left to drive out there.

I had a mission! And a clear destination. Fortunately, my hubby agreed, and off we went.

The drive to Point Reyes is exquisitely beautiful. Rolling grazing land with old valley oaks, amazing vistas, all bright green with the recent rains, and big blue sky. One of our joys as a couple is taking drives to amazing places.

There are many things that are difficult in California: The cost of living, the cost of housing, the woes that high-tech industries bring to big cities, wildfires, earthquakes, mudslides, I could go on.

But almost everywhere you go, there is jaw-dropping beauty. The mountains, the redwood forests, the deserts, the Pacific Ocean….

The ocean will take every ounce of your sorrow and sadness, your fears and self-doubt, and it will sweep them away.

The ocean here along the Central Coast and in Northern California is powerful, and dangerous. It’s not the gentle wash of the mid-Atlantic, nor the calm surface of a lake. You have to watch your back. Rip tides, king tides, sneaker waves, sudden storms, all await the careless or the unwary.

And yet watching waves roll in is strangely calming. It is unrelenting, never stops. It doesn’t wait for me, nor you. It is its own “thing”, with its own rules and purpose. It is totally unpredictable, yet always powerful…and astoundingly beautiful.

Kinda like life, huh?

We walked. Soon I found those special rocky patches in the sand, where small polished pebbles can be found. Jade, serpentine, jasper, carnelian, quartz, in shades of olive, sage, pine green, red, orange, amber, white, black, and brown. I happily hunted-and-gathered for over an hour, collecting about a cup of tiny stones.

I felt my heart slowly edge back into place, and my soul, just as slowly, open up a little.

The drive back was just as beautiful. Soaring vultures, diving hawks, sentinel herons, crows and starlings gathering in the dusk, a flock of bluebirds. Bluebirds! And gorgeous glowing pink cumulus clouds holding the last rays of the sunset….

We humans are hard-wired to be hunter-gatherers. Whether we emulate that in picking up pretty pebbles, collecting tools and brushes, teacups, Chilean cabernets, the sale rack at Nordstrom’s or the local flea market, it’s in us somewhere.

We are also hard-wired to pay attention to the horizon. Our ancestors watched for signs of danger. That evolved into being constantly aware of our surroundings. Our love of beautiful views and beautiful places, whether they are mountains and mesas or small gardens and sweet cottages, spring from this. We are soothed by sights, scenes, and vistas. (Landscape artists, are you listening?)

We are hard-wired to watch the sky. Is a storm coming? Is the day waning? Weather meant life-or-death to our ancestors. Still does, though more of an inconvenience for most of us, most of the time. Yet a beautiful sky is still a mood-lifter.

We are also hard-wired for water. A small babbling brook, a roaring waterfall, a koi pond (or aquarium!), a lake, even a bird bath, is a universal source of interest, comfort, amusement. But the ocean tops them all.

Me? I also have a superpower. I sort. I will enjoy some time picking through these pebbles today, sorting by color and size. (They need to fit into a tiny bottle!) I find sorting very soothing. Er….after I’m done screaming when I’ve knocked a box of beads onto the floor…

Got any little old crusty bottles you don’t want? (My version of “you gonna eat that?”)

As I work today in my studio, I will remember the wild storm surf, the wind, the big sky, deer and cattle, birds and clouds. And a handful of carefully gathered and curated pebbles. Oh, and all those times I spent collecting lovely little old glass bottles in New Hampshire antique stores….

If you are struggling this holiday season, if you are sad, or lonely, or fearful, if you are stressed, or grieving, take exquisite care of yourself.

If even your sacred creative space is (temporarily, I hope!) compromised, take heart. You will get through this.

It will never stop aching. But the sharp pain will (hopefully) soften. Time, love, friendship, solace, music, nature, will help you heal.

Seek out what brings you joy, and peace in your heart.

Find the beauty of the world. Let it heal you.

Then, when you are rested and restored to yourself, take up your tools again: Your pencils, your brushes, your pile of clay. Sit again at your loom, your easel, your worktable. Put on your favorite music, or sit with silence.

Share what healed you today. Capture it and share it, so someone else can be healed, too.

It’s what we artists do.

And we are really, really good at it, too. Thank heaven!

STAY IN TOUCH: Newsletter Tips for Artists

by Luann Udell
12 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | Art Business | art collectors | art marketing | email newsletters | FASO | FineArtViews | inspiration | Luann Udell

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

Keep it real, keep it human, and be yourself.

In my last column, It’s the Little Things That Count a reader asked what we should write about in our email newsletters.

Short story: Our email newsletter is how our audience gets to know us.

And long story (which follows): There is no single “right way” to do that.

I have seen beautiful, heartwarming, informative newsletters that I eagerly read as soon as they show up in my inbox.  I have seen pompous, bragging newsletters that make me stop reading after the second paragraph.

I have seen brief notices of an event, and I have seen long, meandering missives that wander here and there and everywhere.

All of the writers have an audience, so just because I like them or don’t like them doesn’t mean they are necessarily “doing it wrong”.

I do see (and you are all going to laugh knowing this comes from ME) that keeping it short and to-the-point makes it more likely people will actually read it!

Here’s the thing to remember: If someone signs up for your newsletter, they already believe you have something of value to share with them.  So really, all you have to do is be the best “you” you can be.

Of course, usually I create a newsletter to inform my audience of an event, whether it’s a show, a meet-the-artist event, or an open studio, or even a sale.

But many artists share tips on how they actually make their work. Or they share WIPs (works in progress), providing a little behind-the-scenes peek into their creative process. Or they share a little life lesson or funny story. (I tend to share this kind of stuff on other social media, but that’s me.)

In short, every single newsletter is a reflection of who that person is. Their newsletter tells us what they want us to know about them, and their work, what they’re up to, where they’re heading.

So think about who you are: Confident? Humble? Cheerful? Grounded? Funny? Very serious? Quiet? Talkative? A sharer/teacher? An eternal student of life?

Show that in your writing!

Be authentic. Write about what matters to you.

Write simply, and get to the point.  Some of the newsletters I get go on and on, as if I’m listening to a stream of consciousness in the author’s head. Not fun on a busy day…

Be funny (if that’s your style.) If not, be serious.

It’s also okay to experiment with different styles and approaches until you find the one you’re the most comfortable with.

Now, for the concrete: I’ve written many blog posts over the years, about what I’ve learned about writing effective press releases to magazines, newspapers, etc. and I consider an email newsletter a personal, mini-press release.

So when you’re setting one up, think about the 5 (or 6) W’s: Who, what, when, where, why, and how (okay that’s not a W, but you get it) if you are including something educational.

• The “who” is you, of course.

• The “what” is what you want your audience to know: An event? A class? An honor/award/prestigious show you’ve been accepted into? A new gallery? A new body of work? A sale?

• The “when” is obvious. Nobody will show up to your event if you don’t let people know what date and time it is.

What is not obvious (and what I struggle with) is, email newsletter experts say you need to let your audience know multiple times about the “when”. That is, if you have an open studio event, you need to not only let people know in multiple arenas (email, Facebook, etc.) but multiple times. Give people plenty of time to plan ahead. But then remind them over and over that it’s coming up.

The “where” is obvious, too. But you’d be surprised how many emailers assume their audience KNOW where the where is. I finally replied to one gallery newsletter last week, asking them what CITY AND STATE they are in. (In fact, I just realized I did not do that in my most recent newsletter. OOPS)

• The “why” is trickier. But untangle it a bit, and it becomes obvious. For events, the “why” is, “Because I’m hoping you show up and buy something!” For notices of awards and honors, it’s “Because now you can see other people/organizations think my work is pretty cool, too!” For a new body of work, it’s “Because you love my previous work, you might REALLY love my latest body of work!”

The “why” could also include your call-to-action. That is, what do you want people to do with this information? Do you want them to come by? Share/tell their friends, so they can help you grow your audience? Order something online? Be happy for you? How about just to say “thank you”? That works, too!

• The “how” can be an interesting tip, suggestion, insight into what you do. Some people want to know as much as possible about our process. Others want to take a class, and this can encourage them to do that. Sometimes, they just appreciate the fact that you care enough to share!

The only caveat (beyond the ones I’ve already mentioned) is to tread carefully about the hard parts of your life you’re dealing with. It’s okay to share a setback, or to explain why you’ve been out of touch, or why you had to take time off from your art this year. I would advise you not to overdo it. Here in Santa Rosa, the fires last year devastated a lot of lives, immediately and peripherally. It will take most people years to process their loss, and heal.

But to make every single newsletter/conversation/announcement about that is overwhelming to our audience. After all, we are all struggling with something. We are all broken, someplace in our heart. We are all healing from something.

Asking for a little sympathy and understanding is human nature, and support from others can be a healing factor. But asking someone to listen over and over and over to our sad story is exhausting.

It also doesn’t serve us, in the long run. I’ve had a rotten year myself. I would say “nobody died”, but actually quite a few people died, and quite a few involved let me down horribly. It was hard, and trust me, I’m happy to tell everyone about it.

In the end, though, where the most powerful healing came from was, getting back to my studio and making the work of my heart. It helped restore me to my better self, the person I chose to be.

And that message, a message of healing, and restoration, and solace, and hope, a message of what our art does for us and for other people, is the message we really want our audience to hear.  

As artists, we want our art to inspire, to bring joy, to lift hearts. We want to bring messages of hope, and love, to others. We want to provoke thought about difficult issues, and to share our own personal view of the world and our experiences.

This is our job, as artists. And the people who are attracted to our work, who want to see more, learn more, hear more, are just waiting to get more of that from us.

I hope this encourages you to reach out to your audience, and let them know what’s going on in your world! Clint Watson, founder of FASO, has written great articles about the more practical points of producing an effective email newsletter, and I encourage you to go back and read them.

But I assure you, if you approach this with as much integrity and openness as you approach your art, you really can’t go wrong.

EXERCISE FOR SUCCESS Tip #12: Make Do With What You Have (Til You Know Your Real Next Step)

by Luann Udell
23 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | Art Business | creativity | FineArtViews | inspiration | Luann Udell

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.

Sometimes an austerity budget is a hidden blessing!

 In last week’s column, I talked how we can get distracted with shiny new toys in our art biz: The latest brush craze, the hottest craft tools, the newest technique, can give us a lot of joy and amusement, and offer inspiration and new ideas. BUT they can also pull us off-course and dilute our true story. I said, “Those special karate shoes won’t make you a better karate student if you don’t show up for class.”

Like all my advice, you should only cherry-pick the bits that work for YOU. There is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to advice. And as several people pointed out, it IS fun to try new ideas, new palettes, new tools, new techniques. Fun is a good thing.

Of course it is! And I encourage you to try this when it feels like time to take a little break from your usual routine, and change things up a bit.

My caveat was, sometimes the “little bit of fun” turns into a death-spiral of spending and distraction. Getting caught up in classes could mean less time to actually do your own work.

My own trap is getting pulled off-course in admiring the work of others, and not focusing on what’s unique about the work I do. I admire what they do, I want to do it, too. And then I realize that in order to “make it mine” I can’t just imitate what they do. I have to transform it for myself, to reflect MY vision and aesthetics–and story.

So for those who realized they are dealing with the caveat, as promised, here is a solution–temporary or permanent, YOU DECIDE–that I used a few years ago:

Put yourself on a (tools/techniques/class/materials) diet.

I went through a period after the recession where sales fell, galleries hunkered down (or closed forever), and it felt like no one wanted my work. (Yes, I made a world-wide economic event all about me. Go figure.) :^)

I was in business debt up to my eyeballs due to three consecutive high-end shows retail/wholesale shows with poor sales. I had no money for new supplies, no budget for more big shows, no resources to indulge in new distractions.

At first I had no idea how to move forward. But I came up with a year-long plan, and it worked!

I resolved to make it through the year with what I had on hand.

I took an informal inventory of the supplies and materials I had on hand. (I say “informal” because mixed media artists can never rarely completely inventory all the bits and pieces they use in their work.)

1.     What did I ABSOLUTELY NEED to keep making my work?

I let go of what I wish I had, what “everybody else” had, what I thought would be fun to have. Bare bones budget, baby.

2.     What did I ABSOLUTELY NEED to get me through the next year?

Instead of stocking up every chance I got, I realized I had enough supplies on hand to make it through at least a year.

One of my biggest pitfalls is buying in bulk. It’s a lot cheaper per piece, of course. But if I only need 100 widgets for $50, that’s doable with my restricted budget. 1,000 widgets for $400 is still $350 more that I don’t have.

3.     What did I have on hand that could be put to better use?

E.g., what can be repurposed, traded, or even sold (to make money to spend on something more useful?) Years before, I bought a slew of quality ear wires that were just too small for my purposes. I found I could reshape them into useful “dangles” and decorative bits for a new line.

In other words, NO NEW SUPPLIES could come into the building without paying for itself upfront.  NO NEW MATERIALS could be purchased until I’d exhausted the ones I already had. NO NEW CLASSES could be taken until I had a project in the works that decidedly NEEDED that technique/process to create. Even then, I’d stop: Do I HAVE to take a class? Can I learn what I need online? From a book? From a LIBRARY book?? From a friend???

I also swallowed my pride–just for a year–and focused on my best sellers and my lower-priced work, the work that was the easiest to make and get out there. Not as a permanent thing, but as a rescue strategy. It felt restrictive, and small. But it also felt necessary to help dig myself out of the hole I’d gotten myself into. Knowing it was a temporary “narrow focus” really helped.

I took on a very cool mail order catalog client. It was hard. It meant mass-producing certain jewelry items in a short amount of time. But it also meant a few big production week, and then a very big check (for me!) a few months later. (Again, even a year going into production mode for some of my pieces resulted in sacrificing something. Not quality, exactly, but….energy. I look back at those pieces from that period, and I can tell the difference.)

And when I did make a sale, I applied every single penny to my more-money-than-I-make-in-a-year credit card balance.

Within two years, I paid it off.

What helped:

• Some commitments to big change mean a lifetime commitment. In this case, not. It helped knowing it was a period with a beginning and an end.
• It also helped seeing results. I did not go deeper into debt. I could look at my card statements and see the balance going down a little bit every month.
• Austerity became my friend. I got used to not buying everything I thought I “had” to have. (For a while. Back in it now! Gotta go back on that diet!)
• It felt good not to add more pressure to an already-difficult situation. Examples: Not taking time for classes I didn’t really need, meant more time to focus on my own work.
• Using up the materials I already had on hand meant I freed up a little storage space. And not buying materials I didn’t need right away meant not having to FIND more storage space.
• The biggest advantage? I didn’t spend enormous amounts of money on a “new thing”, only to find out it wasn’t MY thing in the first place.

I cannot tell you how many times I see new artists (and experienced artists venturing into new places) invest heavily in everything they think they need to “do it right”.  They get caught up in “doing it right the FIRST TIME”.

That can be a very expensive mind-set.

The person who decides they want to be a potter who invests in brand new, high-end kiln, throwing wheel, (the best!) and tools and glazes, and remodels their garage or basement for a studio—who then realizes a) it’s too much time and work to actually make stuff every day, or b) they actually prefer a different medium, or c) they actually want to focus on making pinch pots instead. (No wheel necessary.)

The person who TOOK OUT A SECOND MORTGAGE ON THEIR HOME to buy a complete professional craft show booth for those really big trade shows, a van/trailer to haul the thing, display structures, lighting, etc., etc., only to find out they did not have the kind of products wanted by fine craft and gift stores, nor could they produce them in a timely manner, nor price them reasonably for wholesale/consignment.

These enthusiastic, well-meaning artisans thought they knew what they wanted, and jumped in over their head, emotionally and financially. Some people have no regrets about this, or can afford it easily. Most of us can’t.

Again, this is not to say, don’t be bold, don’t be brave, don’t commit.

It means, when you realize this is an issue, stop. Slow down. Rethink.

Last, think about the deeper reason why we overspend on stuff we really don’t need: Mental/spiritual turmoil. Fear of missing out (FOMO). The myth of scarcity. (“If I don’t buy these NOW, I’ll never find another source.”)

My life is in turmoil right now. As if this past year weren’t difficult enough, I might have to give up my current studio and find another. The last month has been a freaky one, and guess what I realized as I wrote this article?

I’ve been compensating by overstocking up on the components I want for my “new big idea.” They are items I am repurposing from vintage items, so hard to find (feeding my “myth of scarcity” fear). I probably need a couple dozen, yet I in the last month I’ve tracked down and bought enough to last my lifetime.

So distraction, envy, FOMO,

If you’re determined to invest in those high-tech karate/biking/sports shoes, knowing they will make a difference….

Make sure they’re the right size. The right fit. And don’t buy more than you really need.

If they really do help you have more fun, expand the horizons that need to be explored, help you perform better, and help you make the best work of your heart, then that is money well-spent!

THE POWER WORD

Last week, I came across life coach Christine Kane’s call to action: Pick your Word-of-the-Year (Word of the Year.) (This is a free download, with no call to sign up with your email.)

It’s a cool concept. Our modern culture focuses on action steps, especially during this time of year. Soon we will be making resolutions, setting goals, etc.

Christine believes simply choosing a word that resonates with us manifests our intention. Intention, she believes, comes from the heart. And it’s even more powerful when it unfolds in a more natural, organic way than saying, “I’m gonna do this, and this, and that, and then THAT will happen!” Which starts with selecting a word that resonates, even it it’s not what you think it is.

The idea did resonate with me. But I didn’t even know where to start.

This year has been a clusterfuck, personally, economically, physically, professionally, financially, in addition to the stuff that we see on the national and international stage. Everything right down to how I feel when I get up in the morning and go to bed at night is filled with anxiety, self-doubt, frustration, resentment, and confusion.

So I downloaded the free workbook, and looked over her list of words, dozens and dozens of them. Nope. Nope. Nooooope. Hope? Maybe… Joy? Well, yeah….but no. Expansion? Maybe. Power? Power!

Now why did I pick power?!

I don’t want to be the boss of anything or anyone. Yes, I love to offer advice, but don’t want to be responsible for other people’s actions and life decisions. I don’t want to be “big” or “important” or “in charge” of anything except my own life.

So where did power come from?

I thought back over this past year. Loss. Death. Discord. Grief. Fear. Physical pain.

I thought of where I got to, working through this stuff. I have explored, and almost mastered, true forgiveness. (Okay, in bits and pieces.) Letting go of the need to belong. (Doing okay, still needs work. Still hurts to be told you don’t belong…) Accepting that we may choose to be connected, but that we are also actually alone. (SCARY STUFF.)

Where does power come in?

Following the instructions, I wrote down the words that came to mind:

Brave. Integrity. Stand tall. Move forward. Work hard. 

Okay. That felt more actionable. But I still wondered.

Then some incidental acts of cruelty stopped me in my tracks again. OK… I’m reading more of Brene Brown’s newest book, Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution, which is (I think) about elements of The Hero’s Journey. I think I’m in the “rumble stage”: That is, I think I know what I want. But everything seems to be conspiring against me. The stage in the Hero’s Journey where we realize it’s gonna be a heckuva lot harder than we thought. Perhaps even impossible.

With the mean remarks, I thought power might be “empowering myself to set boundaries.” Very important for creative people. We thrive and create by being open to the universe, allowing our pain to show, making our art to heal it, and then sharing it with the world.

When people respond negatively, that hurts. But we have to keep making! Hence, boundary-setting becomes imperative, a way to protect ourselves without shutting ourselves down, and shutting the world out.

So imagine my surprise when the very next chapter I read in Rising was about…..power.

Brown suggests that power has a negative connotation, because “…we automatically conflate power and power over…”

But, she continues, “The type of power I’m talking about is more in line with Martin Luther King, Jr.’s definition of it: The ability to achieve our purpose and to effect change.“

Powerless leads to fear and desperation. We are at our worst when we feel powerless.

She says moving out of powerlessness and despair requires hope. We can soften the experience of failure by asking ourselves, “Were we all in, and were we true to ourselves?” If so, then we can focus on the true lessons of regret: “We regret most our failures of courage, whether it’s the courage to be kinder, to show up to, say how we feel, to set boundaries, to be good to ourselves.”

I do not regret chosing “power” as my Word of the Year.

It’s already started me on a journey of introspection, a journey of hope, a journey of achieving my purpose….

And as fellow narrative artist/writer Teri Sloat shared after we talked in our fledgling artist support group about this, “Do you know who you meet at the end of the “Hero’s Journey?”*

Yourself.

Yup. I think I have the right word.

Wish me luck! (And courage, and perseverance, and most of all, patience.)

*Teri added a clarification, a lovely one, and I quote:  I think my comment about the hero’s journey is a bit off, if people are thinking the the actual Joseph Campbell structure of the hero’s journey.  What i should have said is that before the ‘resurrection’ we have to deal with the shadow side of what makes our strengths. Once we accept them we can accept them in others.  You have made me think as I read your work that it is only when we acknowledge these shadows in ourselves do we accept them in others and neutralize their danger to us.”

Beautifully said, Teri, and thank you again!

 

 

EXERCISE FOR SUCCESS Tip #11: Wear the Right Shoes.

by Luann Udell
14 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | art and psychology | creativity | FineArtViews | inspiration | Luann Udell

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.

Special “karate shoes” won’t make you a better karate student if you don’t show up for classes.

Some activities require more specialized equipment than others. It’s hard to rollerblade in bare feet, for example.

My husband spent years avoiding all of the latest high-tech biking stuff. He insisted on regular t-shirts over special moisture-wicking synthetic fiber bike shirts. He wore his regular sports shoes instead of special biking shoes.

We had friends a few years ago who used to laugh openly at his lack of high-tech gear. “I can’t believe your husband rides in a cotton T-SHIRT!” the wife giggled.

But here’s the thing: He never has any problem enjoying long bicycle rides just because he didn’t have the fancy clothing, shoes and gadgets. When the weather allows, he’s off on his bike every chance he gets.

He did finally realize that those “geeky bike shoes with the special clip-on cleats” (that attach to the bike pedals) really do provide a more efficient, more enjoyable experience for long-distance riding. (And he still doesn’t know the right name for them.)

They are only useful, though, on rides where you don’t have to stop much (since the shoes have to be manually disengaged from the pedal when you stop.) Those same shoes and pedals would make in-town riding miserable.

So the right equipment can make your workout not only better, but possible. More efficient. More fun. But different situations make for different “right equipment.”

The downside of focusing on the “perfect equipment” is, some people get so caught up in the high-tech accruements, they spend more time shopping and playing with the “toys” than they spend actually doing the activity. They need the “best bike” that costs thousands of dollars, the “latest biking shirt”, etc.

And if they can’t get them, well, that can be the excuse they need not to exercise in the first place. “I’ll wait til I find the perfect slippers to do T’ai Chi!” (Never found them. Time to go back to socks!)

Too much equipment can eat up your cash resources. At best, it can put the focus on how to get your next new “toy” rather than your next good workout. At worst interfere with the simple act of getting out there and exercising.

Special “karate shoes” won’t make you a better karate student if you don’t show up for classes.

My hubby, for all his lack of gizmos and high-tech sportswear, still logs in hundreds, if not thousands, of miles biked every year. While the friend who poked fun of him for being so low-tech? Hasn’t been on a bike in a loooong time……

If a new sport “toy” excites you enough to exercise more, then it’s a good thing. If it distracts you from the PURPOSE of your work-out–to exercise more, to make your work-out more productive, and help you enjoy your activity– it’s not a good thing.

The same with our art biz.

My own two craft media, the world of quilting/fiber arts and the world of polymer clay, are especially prone to this “new toy” phenomenon. New tools, techniques and gadgets are introduced almost weekly. Pick up a decent quilters supply catalog and you will find hundreds–no, THOUSANDS–of gadgets designed to aid you in sewing two pieces of fabric together. The polymer clay industry is just as product-dense.

I’ll take that back–these two media are not any more prone to this than any other medium. In fact, classes and supplies for painting probably lead the pack. Special brushes, engineered paints, exotic papers and canvases, intricate easels–the list is endless.

At one point, I decided to invest thousands of dollars in a giant sewing machine that would have allowed me to make really, really big fiber wall hangings. I saved money until I could purchase one, set it up in my studio….

And never used it. Not once.

It turns out the way it worked was exactly the reverse of my process, and cumbersome. The learning curve was steep, and not worth it to me. It turns out I lose my sense of composition when my work gets big. (Someone said years ago my aesthetic works best when small and intimate, and I totally agree. My first aesthetic was “something you can hold in your hand”, and that still describes the bulk of my work.)

I’m fortunate that the store owner simply bought the machine back two years later. (It helped I was a loyal customer who had always treated them with integrity and generosity, and it was repaid in kind when I needed it!) (It helped that it was in mint condition, too.) :^)

It turns out my professional-grade but limited-options sewing machine was exactly what I need, and nothing more. (It can’t zig-zag or serge-stitch, but it free-style quilts like a charm!)

New toys are fun. And classes in new techniques, materials, tools, and processes can expand our artistic vocabulary and strengthen our repertoire of skills and abilities.

They can also water down our focus, our ability to develop and refine a FEW skills to perfection. All the squirrel-hair brushes and archival quality paper and lightfast paints in the world will not transform a mediocre painter into an accomplished artist.

In our eagerness to get on board the “next new thing”, we join the ranks of dilettantes–by definition, those who pursue an art as a pastime, especially sporadically or superficially.

I say “dilettante” as opposed to the original definition of “amateur”–one who pursues an art for the pure love of it, rather than a profession. It used to mean “someone who loved what they did and did it even while not accepting money for it.” Getting paid was not the end result–enjoyment was. (“Amateur” now means/implies someone who cannot/has not mastered or marshalled their skill enough to pursue their art as a profession. I hate that!)

There’s nothing wrong with being a dilettante OR an amateur. Not everyone even wants to be a “professional” artist. Just having the work of your heart in your life, even at a small level, is enough for many, many people.

But….if constant “playing around” is getting in the way of something else you want….If you want to be considered as more than a hobbyist, you must rise above your tools and techniques–and become a master of the medium itself.

It’s all about “the right shoes” for the RIGHT next step.

It’s The Little Things That Count

By Luann Udell
20 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | Art Business | art fairs | art festivals | art marketing | art show | exposure tips | FineArtViews | Luann Udell | pricing artwork | sell art | social networking

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.

In Good Ways, and Bad, Unfortunately

It’s been awhile since I’ve visited small craft fairs, but the holiday season has brought them out in droves.

I got to visit a few lately, and I was surprised by what I found.

First, the good stuff: The stuff was good! I was surprised at the quality of the products offered, both in materials used, the finished product itself, and the skill involved to make them. Very important, and every exhibitor earned my respect here.

Sadly, there were so many little things that could have been done better.

Lack of pricing

I thought the prices were higher than I expected, but certainly fair (considering, again the quality of materials, the finished product, and the skills.) But so many people hadn’t priced their work!

I’m bad at this, too. The first day of major shows, I’m so involved with getting ready, getting organized, getting packed, getting set up, that I save pricing for last (especially for new work.)

But I usually manage to get at least 75% of my items priced, certainly enough for early shoppers to get an idea of my price range. (I keep pricing as I go, which allows me to stay “busy” but available to interested browsers.)

This is actually a way to get potential customers to talk to you! Price most of the work, (again, so they get a general idea) and leave a very few unpriced. Chances are, the person who inquires is interested in that specific piece. This gives you, the maker, a chance to talk a little about the work, opening the door to a bigger conversation.

But not pricing your work at all? Bad idea.

One person had one item marked, and they made no effort while I was there to price more. I loved the work, but I got tired of picking something up and asking, “How much is this one? How much is THIS one? What about THIS one?” over and over.

Although I liked the work, I gradually lost interest, and moved on.

Maybe they forgot their price tags. Otherwise, they could have made up a tag as I asked, handed it to me, and at least those items I asked about would be done.

One way to get around individually pricing is to group by price. Even a display with a sign that says, “Under $50” or “Under $200” at least establishes some guidelines about what to expect.

But in general, most people will not ask more than two or three times before giving up. Our human brains are already looking for reasons not to buy. Jason Horejs of Xanadu Gallery has written oodles about overcoming objections with prospective buyers, and having to ask over and over and over is a doozy. Don’t give people an excuse to walk away!

Too much information

When I asked about a piece, most people were very good about talking to me about it. But almost everybody took it too far.

A simple comment like, “What a beautiful sweater!” resulted in a monologue about the wool, the pattern, the struggles they had getting it right, where the pattern came from, etc. All good information, but not what I needed to know to decide to buy it.

Talking is better than not talking at all. But talking too much, especially about the wrong things, isn’t good, either. If I were visiting a friend and we ended up talking like this, it’s fine. But a customer?

A better way to engage a customer who’s intrigued by a baby sweater is to ask who the gift would be for. I would have replied, “For our first grandchild on the way!” That would have opened the door for a discussion on why purchase was so special, why this yarn was perfect for an infant, what made the style adaptable for a growing baby, perhaps even a special “gift for baby” card to be included with the purchase. Perhaps the maker started making baby sweaters for their own kids, and kept going, and how such presents are received (and appreciated!) by new parents.

In other words, this was an opportunity to tell a story that would appeal to me, the customer, rather than a story about the maker and their journey. There’s a time and a place for that. Just know when it’s the right time and place.

The best way to do this? Pay attention to the question the customer asked, and follow up by asking them related questions in return. For example: “What attracted you to this piece?” (I loved the colors.) “Yes, this is one of my most popular designs because it’s practical as well as pretty.” And then share what’s special about the yarn, the pattern, etc.

In this case, I bought the sweater anyway, because I knew this was one I’d never attempt to make, myself!  Still, I walked away from it—twice!—before I realized that. And fortunately for the maker, I realized it before we left the fair!

Take credit cards!!!

I couldn’t believe how few vendors accepted credit cards.

Most of them said, “Well, if you pay by check or cash, I won’t have to charge you sales tax!” Okay….but I never carry my checkbook anymore, and I’d already spent all my cash at another booth. They would have been SOOL (S… out of luck) if my friend hadn’t lent me the money. (And if they had spent more money, they would have been out of cash, too.)

Yes, some rural areas have poor wifi connections. But the event actually did have a working wifi spot, and it was very close and accessible. Most people just didn’t have mobile credit card readers, or they don’t want to pay the extra fees. I can’t imagine how many sales they lost because of that.)

Socialize later.

I know, I know. Socializing is half the fun of doing small shows. Actually, any show!

But during the show, stay near your space. I had to make repeated trips to a couple of booths because the makers were nowhere to be found. And this was when customers were starting to show up!

Fortunately, everyone seemed to know everyone (it was a long-established event), so when I’d ask someone nearby, “Is this your booth?” they usually knew the person and sometimes even went to find them.

But the third time I had to ask, I just let it go and moved on to the next booth.

A small event like this may be more of a lifestyle choice than a money-making event for the participants. I get it, I really do! But a better choice might be to meet up the next day, if there is one.  During multiple-day events, makers usually have everything squared away by the second day, and there’s time before the event opens to hang out, yak, trade and barter. Or set up a meet-up after the show to talk about what went well and what could be better.

Business cards. Business cards. Business cards!!!!

Not one person had business cards.

I buy business cards by the hundreds, even thousands.

Mini-cards from Moo.com allow you to choose 100 different images per 100 cards! People LOVE them.

I carry them with me all the time. I lay out heaps in my studio. If I do a show, I bring tons.

They have all my contact info, my tag line, and an image of my work. In fact, my mini-Moo cards have dozens of different images, so people can choose one that speaks to them.

Images are important, and I know that from personal experience. At a major fine craft show on the east coast, before picture biz cards/postcards were a ‘thing’, I gathered cards from dozens of artisans whose work I loved. I wrote copious notes in my notebook about who they were and what they did.

This postcard template from Moo.com let me easily compile twelve different images that show the range of my work. People love these, too!

A week later, the only ones I could really remember were the ones with images on them. Lesson learned!

Sometimes people say, “I’ll just take one.” I’ll say, “Take as many as you’d like! They are for giving away. Give one to someone who owes you a birthday present. Give one to a friend you think would enjoy my work.” It works.

Over the decades, I’ve had customers who kept every postcard and every business card I’ve given/sent them. Some keep them on their fridge, or their workspace, or their office bulletin board. Other people see them, and inquire.

Some of those cards and postcards have brought in 100x the business of their actual cost. And until you move, they don’t go out of date!

Business cards!!!!!

Learn who your customers are, and keep them in the loop.

Not one maker asked me to join their email list. Not. One. Not even the people I actually bought from.

I assume they didn’t have one, didn’t want one, or didn’t feel they needed one.

Which is too bad, because I only heard about this event through a new friend, and probably wouldn’t have checked it out on my own. I hope I remember to look for it next year. But that’s a whole year away.

If you read Fine Art Views regularly, you know that FASO founder Clint Watson is adamant about the importance of your email newsletter. It is the easiest, most efficient, most affordable way to reach, grow, and maintain your audience.

I don’t mean to sound like a grinch. I truly enjoyed this little fair. The makers did good work, and they were all friendly and fun to be with. I simply want them to be successful with their creative ventures, and to bring joy to other folks as they did with me.

But through missing out on “the little things” (the ones I’m guessing they thought weren’t important enough to fuss about), they lost sales, lost bigger sales, and missed a chance for me to become a follower, and future customer.

A good example? What if I had left the fair without buying that beautiful baby sweater? I had no way of remembering the maker, I did not have a card/contact info for them, and since they hadn’t taken my email until I suggested they did, they would not have been able to thank me for coming to the fair—and remind me that the sweater was still available!

On the other hand, I’m grateful they gave me something to write about and share with you today!

• Price your work.
• Tailor your sales pitch to your individual potential customer. Tell them what they want to know.
• Make it easy for your customers to buy, and to buy more.
• Business cards!!!!!
• Stay in touch with your customers: Ask them to sign up for your email newsletter.

Trust me—it’s those little things that help your art biz grow big!

EXERCISE FOR SUCCESS Tip #10: Vary the Intensity.

by Luann Udell
15 Comments
Topics: advice for artists | creativity | FineArtViews | inspiration | Luann Udell | originality

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.

Know when to push through, and when to take a break!

Studies on exercise show that mixing up the intensity, even a little in a single workout, burns off more calories than a slow, steady pace. Perhaps because it catches our body metabolism off-guard a wee bit, causing it to “rev” a little higher, even when we slow back down again. It helps with training, too. Swimmers use this technique to increase endurance and strength.

I don’t ascribe to the “no pain, no gain” school of thought–too much pain for not much gain when I injure myself! But I’ll admit, I can tell the difference between a workout when I push myself a little bit more than usual, and one where I hang back, “saving” my strength in case I need it later.

It’s a human thing, and not necessarily a bad one. There are times to ease up, come up for air, and take a look around.

But here’s the thing: There’s no “later”.

Yeah, there is a slight chance I will need to lift a car off someone today, and I will need a lot of strength for that. But easing up and saving my strength doesn’t go into a penny jar someplace, where I can extract that strength back. (Have I labored this metaphor enough? Moving on….)

In the end, “saving our energy” is just an excuse to not put in that extra effort.

There is also no “later” when it comes to making your art.

There’s a tendency for artists to hang back sometimes, too, to “pace themselves.” Not stretching themselves to reach further, or pushing themselves to go farther.

We say we’re just too busy with other stuff. Or we say we’re just taking a break. Maybe we feel a little bored….

But for me, often, that’s not really it. So why do we procrastinate about getting to our studio?

Honestly, I think it’s this:

We’re afraid we’ll run out of ideas.

If you’re like me, then every time I make my “best piece”, I secretly worry it’s my LAST best piece. I can’t imagine coming up with an even better design. I worry I will run out of stories. I fret about whether a new animal will join my menagerie.

So we stick to the same ol’ same ol, never trying anything new, never taking risks or putting our work out there.

Here is the most important five words you will read in this article: Trust me.

You won’t run out of ideas.

Working on new ideas generates MORE ideas. Perfecting a technique gets your hands busy on cruise control, freeing the mind to wander further ahead–“And what if instead of doing THIS, I tried THIS…?” “What if I use THIS color here instead?”

Every single time I’ve been stuck–and oh Lordy, have I been stuck the past few years!–pushing myself to do the work has helped me break through.

So try mixing it up in your artistic workout today. Warm up with the stuff you know how to do.

Then push yourself a wee bit…and see where it takes you.

Let us know!

SMELLS LIKE DOG PEE: Finding Hope (and Humor!) in the Ugly

There are people in the world who want to take you down. Don’t let them.

As the holiday season swirls around us, I find myself in alternating waves of joy and despair, lifted by appreciative hosts and customers, and devastated by the casual cruelty of my fellow makers.

Two incidents to illustrate:

I did a small maker show for a prestigious organization that unfortunately was not well attended. That was fine, it happens.

Another maker circled my set-up, someone I’ve encountered before. The pattern goes like this: They let me know they know my work and my writing, and are somewhat flattering. They approach with accolades, which soon turn into “Can you help me with x?” (which I am a sucker for, because I love helping people move forward with their dreams). This quickly declines into push-back (“Let me show you how I am more successful than you!”) on their part.

I see this from time to time, and I know it’s time to simply retreat with no engagement. But then there was the sucker punch.

The person approached me again at the very end of the event, and said, “Do you own a dog?”

I laughed and replied, “Why, yes, I do! How could you tell? Do I have dog hair on my clothes?”

They said, “You smell like dog pee.”

Uh. Oh. Stunned silence on my part.

They continued, “I have a very sensitive nose.”

I stammered a reply, noting that one visitor had brought anxious dogs to the event, and perhaps that is what they smelled. But I know exactly what was going on. (Put a pin here. Next incident!)

Second incident: Someone on social media found a series of articles my blog about display and marketing advice for artists, and shared it with a group. There were many responses from people who appreciated what I’d written, and how helpful they’d found it. I thanked everyone for their kind comments. Until I got the last one:

“Too bad she doesn’t have any photos on her blog.”

Wha….?

Let’s set aside the obvious: When I wrote that series over a decade ago, digital photos were a lot harder to take, almost impossible to edit, and tricky to upload. In fact, the original host site didn’t even have the ability to host images.

A book I quoted in the series, WHY WE BUY by Paco Underhill, featuring the best research on what physically/mentally keeps people from buying had no illustrations.

And most of the issues involved in “turning people off” while shopping are not easily discernible in photos. They are deeply-rooted, near-instinctive reactions, common to all humans. They were only discovered by actively observing customer behaviors in situ, and then going back to examine the environment.

But my biggest irk?

Why would you complain or criticize a resource that’s valuable–and FREE?

My favorite quip when someone argues with my articles is, “I will happily refund every penny you paid for it.”

So what’s going on here? It’s the nibblers again.

In 1984, a remarkable woman named Kaleel Jamison, a pioneer for resolving issues of gender, race, and color in the workplace, wrote an amazing book called The Nibble Theory. It changed my life.

It is a short, simple, compassionate account of why some people seek to tear us down by “nibbling” away at our self-esteem. It is a powerful, restorative work that helped me heal from the tiny slashes and gashes some people inflict on others. I urge you to find a copy. It will take you no more than an hour or two to read. And then share it with someone else who needs its wisdom!

Even though these small yet thoughtless attacks hurt, once you understand where they come from, it’s easier to let go.

It also helps to find the good, the funny, the helpful. I told one person about the dog pee remark. She picked up a rolling pin and said, “I would have told her she had a 5-second headstart before I responded in kind.” (“Kind” being ironic.) I would never even try that, but it made me last.

Another person suggested, “Let me tell you where you can put your ‘sensitive nose’!”

What I wish I’d said? “I wish you had a sensitive heart.”

Another person, a store owner highly respected in our city, a staunch supporter of artists and their work, who has amazing employees who work hard to connect my work with collectors, shared their own slightly toxic encounter that week. Which also helped, because….

It made me recall the blessings of that show.

I told the store owner how their name had come up multiple times in my conversations with the other makers. (The fun part of a slow show: You get to yak!) Everyone….everyone…sang his praises, and I told him that. “You are highly-respected and loved in our art community, your store is beautiful, our work is well-represented, and your employees are amazing! You are doing it right!”

I recalled the vendor who shared a simple yet effective display idea that would work well for these small, intimate events. I remembered I thought up a way to engage a larger, younger audience for these events by coordinating an integrated social media campaign with other artists, other venues/galleries/stores, and other art organizations. I pitched another art garage sale proposal, which the other vendors loved. I chatted with employees with the organization that sponsored the event, and learned more about their own creative work, and their own hopes and dreams for their art. We had a delightful conversation about our favorite foods from Trader Joe’s, and I bought some fun holiday gifts from the other vendors.

So, laughter, support, comraderie, and future projects. All good stuff!

And I remembered that the one slightly-disgruntled comment on my lack of blog images was preceded by a chorus of gratitude and appreciation from other makers.

So when you encounter nibblers, go for the light. As Michele Obama said, “When they go low, we go high.” Turn the negative into something positive, and shiny. Be a force for good in the universe.

And my final chuckle?

That evening, I went to bed and woke up one of our dogs who was deeply, deeply asleep on our bed. So deeply asleep that when I roused him and asked him if he had to go outside to pee, he obliged by urinating on our bed.

So there I was at 11p.m., stripping and remaking the bed, spraying odor-eater on bedding, and doing laundry.

And chortling to Jon along the way, “So that remark wasn’t a slam, it was a prophecy!”

P.S. You can find the forementioned series on booth design here (free!), and you can also purchase the eBook here (a paltry $5, and no, I will not refund your money if you don’t like it. Be forewarned!

P.P.S. In creating links to resources here, I discovered there is a new, updated version of Why We Buy, to include internet sales and such. I just book a copy! That’s the version I linked to above, too.

ALMOST FAMOUS

Years ago, I ran into major star at an event. (We were in line for refreshments.) This was someone whose music influenced me deeply ever since my early college years, and I’ve followed them faithfully ever since–20 years at the time, almost 50 now.

I told them that. Even as I struggled to express how much they meant to me, I could see “that face”:

“Yeah, okay. I’m tired. I hear this all the time. I get it. Thank you. But I just want to get my effin’ drink here, in peace!”

They didn’t say that. But the numb expression on their exausted face was clear. I felt awful.

And I felt awful after I did it again recently.

I had an opportunity to meet a star. Another REAL star. A famous person. I got to go backstage, and meet them. And foolishly, instead of just saying “hello” and moving on, I once again tried to tell them how much their work means to me.

And I could tell, once again, how much I bored with my little story.

Again, this person was gracious. I am not complaining. I was embarrassed I’d done it again.

They’d just completed a performance. They get hundreds of those backstage visits a year. They were already exhausted, after working the stage for hours.

And here comes a perfect stranger who hopes to “connect” at the worst possible time. What if every person, the hundreds of thousands of people who love their work, did that? “I know you, you don’t know me, I think you’re wonderful, do you “see” me????”

I have a confession to make…

The older I get, the harder it is to remember, and recognize, my own fans/customers.

This is embarrassing, because…Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You made the time to visit my studio/website/show, you had the sense of purpose to collect a piece, your purchase helps me stay in business so I can continue making, and our conversation lifted my heart.

So when I see you again, and you have to remind me who you are and what we talked so passionately about, I want to sink into the floor.

Most people are understanding. “Why should you remember me?? I was one of hundreds who visited your studio that day! Don’t worry about it.”

But I always remember that first “star” encounter, and cringe. The second encounter was totally on me.

Where am I going with this?

It’s about a creative person’s “dream”, our desire for fame, the need for proof that the world loves what we do.

I realize I don’t really want to be “famous” anymore. I wouldn’t be good at it.

Trust me, it’s not because I’m “more evolved” than these starry folks. They have talent, they’ve worked hard to get it out into the world, and I celebrate every measure of success they achieve. They work hard to be gracious and appreciative of their audience, even when it means putting on a happy face when they are drained and exhausted.

I just realize I would not be nearly as gracious as they are if I were in their shoes.

Do I love what I do? Yes. Do I want my work out in the world? Yes! Do I want my work to be seen, and admired, and respected, and loved? YES!! Am I grateful for the people who let me know, especially when they love it enough to actually buy it? OH GOD YES.

But I also believe my work has a purpose in the world. I feel compelled to connect with my followers, my visitors, my collectors. I’m honored when my work, our conversations, inspire them, heal them, encourage them on their own creative journies.

I can only do that when the encounters are “small”. Personal. Intimate (spiritually.) Enjoyable. I know I would not handle fame nearly as well.

It’s not a “be careful what you wish for, you might get it” thing.

It’s know what you really want, instead of what our celebrity-driven, limelight-lit world tells us what we should want.

Summed up beautifully, and with humor, in my all-time favorite cartoon  (Sally Forth) by Francesco Marciuliano.

It’s not about having an audience, it’s about having a voice.