HALF OFF (NOT!) Know When, and When Not to Discount Your Work

I was at a party recently where some of the guests knew I was an artist and others didn’t. A lively discussion ensued about the upcoming League of New Hampshire Craftsmen’s Fair. You can see the new work I’ll be selling at the fair here.

One person, who didn’t realize I was not only an artist but also exhibiting at the fair, exclaimed, “Oh, the real reason we go to the show is to get great ideas and then come home and make it ourselves!”

Fortunately, I’d only had one glass of wine, so I merely replied, “Well, we’re kinda hoping you’ll actually buy something from us, too.” She looked confused, and to her credit, later (when she realized I was an exhibitor) she was a little embarrassed.

I will save for another day my rant about people who think the reason we pay thousands of dollars to do that show is so we can pass on our great ideas to crafters for free. (Buy a book, fercryin’outloud!!)

Another person who had followed my work for years (but never purchased), said she didn’t want to go all the way up to the fair. Could she come to my studio? I told her there was an Open Studio Tour by the League in November, and my studio would be open then.

“I don’t want to wait that long! Can I come sooner?”

I wanted to explain that it was really hard to stop working for an hour or two while a casual looker came and hung out. In reality, I’ve come to realize that most people never really show up anyway. So I just demurred and said that would be fine if she called first.

“Good! I don’t want to pay that store mark-up anyway!” she said.

This is a test. Good reader, what is the correct response to this statement?

1) “Oh, sure, I’ll give you my wholesale pricing!, because you’ve been such a good customer!”

2) “Sure, bring all your friends, too!”

3) “Uh, well, no, but maybe I can give you a little discount.”

4) “Actually, my retail prices are the same whether you buy work from me or from the galleries that carry my work. But you’ll get to see a lot more designs and my new work!”

5) “Hey, how about them Red Sox?!”<

If you answered #4, you are a professional artist behaving like a grown-up.

If you answered #5, you’re probably from New England (but not New York.) If you had said, “How about them hapless Red Sox?” you’re probably from Massachusetts.

What’s wrong with the first three responses?

Choice #1 is wrong on several levels.

First, offering the public wholesale pricing is the fastest way to kill every single relationship with any store/gallery/catalog company you ever deal/hope to deal with. You are totally undercutting their efforts to represent you and sell your work.

And yes, they will find out. It’s a smaller world than you think.

Second, this person isn’t even your customer. Why would you reward someone who refuses to pay your (fairly) priced work at retail?

Third, if you decide to ignore points one and two, and if the person actually buys something, you will have a new “customer” who will now expect to buy from you at wholesale forever.

And they will tell all their friends about it (because we all love a deal, and we all love to tell everybody about our deals.) They will brag about the work they got half-off. They will tell how much they saved.

Soon the people who bought from you at retail (or your stores) will hear about it. They will not like the fact that you undersold your work to someone who simply asked for it. They will feel like idiots for paying full price. Wouldn’t you??

Now you can see that choice #2–encouraging them to bring even more people to buy wholesale–makes the matter worse, faster.

Ditto choice #3. Again, why reward someone who has never bought from you before? Doesn’t it make you mad when your favorite magazine offers great deals to new subscribers? How about rewarding us loyal, repeat subscribers?? Same thing. If you decide to ever offer an incentive, reward the people who already collect your work and/or have supported you early on.

And be forewarned that if you offer a discount, many people will assume that discount is forever. (Human nature at work.)

And because it is human nature to go to shows for inspiration, and to enjoy a bargain, try not to respond harshly to people who speak thoughtlessly thus. Keep your head, don’t take it personally. It is an educational moment. Simply explain why you cannot do that and move on.

Most people will do better when they know better. If not, they aren’t my customer anyway.

Bottom line–you shouldn’t feel like you have to bribe people to buy your work. It should be fairly priced to begin with. Offer discounts when people buy well–when they buy a lot of work. If they spend over $x or buy multiples, offer a discount on one item, or offer a free item. They should get something after they’ve given you something–their hard-earned money for your beautiful work.

Make work you are proud of, and don’t be afraid to be paid for it. Believe your work is worth the price you’ve set. Stand by your prices, and don’t sell your work, your retailers or yourself, short.

IT’S WORKING! (Time Management, That Is…)

So how has my experiment with avoiding the computer and phone calls been progressing? I would say very well indeed!

I’ve tried to avoid as many distractions as possible. When I hit my studio first thing in the morning, I sit at my work table, not my computer. When the phone rings, I check to see if it’s a call that has to be answered, or can wait. If I’m not sure, I listen to the message to check. If I’m already doing handwork that’s compatible with listening, I pick up. I’ve tried to limit the calls and get as much information by e-mail as I can.

The results?

I’ve been reworking some small fiber collage fragments, making them into miniature wall hangings. They’re looking good! I even have a stash of very tiny beaver-chewed sticks to hang them with, collected for me by fellow polymer artist Connie Gray.

I’ve been working much more steadily on new jewelry designs. If you check out my new website, you’ll see the colorful new work that’s literally been flowing through my hands.

What I love best about it is that it all came as a natural evolution, starting with that one customer’s special order request for a “black bird” artifact over a year ago. The “bird” part became a new animal motif and the “black” part became a new faux finish technique (soapstone).

As I experimented with the soapstone finish, I remembered that some of my Inuit soapstone carvings were actually greenish in hue–more like steatite than soapstone. I made “green soapstone”. These two different hues in turn led to both of my new colorways: The soft gray-black artifacts complimented by intense coral red, lapis blue and turquoise green (the Mojave series). The slate green artifacts accented with “water” colors–translucent aquas, ice blues, pale sea greens (the Glacier series. You can see my new jewelry with all these luscious new colors.

Again, all natural progressions, following a line of thought and listening to the artifacts themselves. Not some self-imposed “change for the sake of change” thinking, which for ME always leads to artificial places and shallow waters.

Unfortunately, this process has impacted my writing. It’s been harder to write regularly. There’s no angst to work through. Okay, not as much angst. There’s still plenty of emotional drama in my life!

Then I realize it’s just as important to share what’s working. To talk about what’s going well.

In fact, that’s really important–to dwell on the good stuff. We tend to focus on what’s going wrong, and not on what’s going right. It’s our human nature–we’re hardwired to pay attention to bad stuff–but this is one aspect of my nature I’d like some balance restored to!

Now, what about my attempts to restore order and organization to my studio?

Hmmmm….well, let’s just say I’m not in a position to post any photos of my worktable….

WORD POWER: How Journaling Can Give You Clarity

When I first started out in my biz, I journaled a lot. A LOT. It was one of the tools I learned from my mentor, Deborah Kruger, to get settled into my new artist self. You can see Deborah’s beautiful fiber work and learn about her artist empowerment workshops here.

And Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way</strong, provided other excellent reasons to write daily. Not keyboard or type–WRITE. Cameron stated that something about the slower, more physical act of writing, connects our conscious brains to our unconscious desires and roadblocks more profoundly than typing.

I found this to be true, and wrote religiously.

I began to enjoy more success. My work gained an audience, eventually a national audience. My work appeared in print. I was asked to teach others how to be inspired, how to promote themselves, how to stay true to their artistic self.

I even began to teach others (informally) how to listen to each other, as I’d learned in Deborah’s workshops. I gave my time freely to friends old and new to help them find their own path to art.

But eventually, like that old adage “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride”, I realized that, though I listened and listened and listened, no one was listening to ME.

Part of it is, to listen well, you have to learn how to listen–without comment, without interruption, without telling that person what YOU think they should do.

It takes trust. The listener has to have the speaker’s best interest at heart. (You’d be surprised how many people who love you don’t really necessarily want you to be successful.)

And it takes time–sometimes 2-3 hours to really let someone open up and get to the heart of the matter.

Time is short, we’re all busy, and I’m not much at being a squeaky wheel (except with my husband!) And so I’ve been stuck with my feverish thoughts and frantic scrambling to uncover my own secret longings and artistic “next steps”.

Writing this blog has helped enormously. Sharing what I’ve learned, and musing “out loud” on the things that hold me back and keep me up at night have helped me work out a lot of tangled knots.

But yesterday, once again, I realized how much the journaling helps, too.

One last wholesale order has held me up. It’s a good order, from a great customer. But somehow, everything that could go wrong, has. It was misfiled. I was out of a critical component to finish the order. And the customer is on the west coast, making the coordination of phone calls a little trickier.

In short, the order is late. Really late.

This is so unlike me, it’s worrisome. And as I race to finish the order (and as I wait for Monday to see if they even still want the order, I keep asking myself, “Why did I let this happen??”

I walked downtown with my husband for coffee yesterday morning. Earlier, I’d moved a piece of furniture looking for something and found a brand new, untouched composition book underneath. On impulse, I took it with me. And as Jon stood in line with our order, I snagged an outdoor table and began to write.

I really only had about 10 minutes to write at the coffee shop. I wasn’t even really sure what to write about. But I was consumed with guilt about this order, and I wrote about that.

And a page into it, I realized what was going on.

This order was my last wholesale order.

To clarify, it’s the last order I’m filling from a wholesale show. The last order from an era I call “the wholesale show era”.

The wholesale show era began almost eight years ago. It was a strategy that helped me build my wholesale biz to a national level–fast. It was expensive and exhausting, but also fun and thrilling. For awhile, it worked really, really well.

And now it doesn’t.

If you’ve been reading my blog entries, you know of the shift in my focus and priorities. I’m changing strategies to find different wholesale markets. They don’t seem to be venues that go to the traditional wholesale shows. So somehow, I have to get to them.

I’m going back to rebuild retail markets, too. In fact, last week Jon totally revamped my website which you can see at http://www.luannudell.com

There are some glitches, of course, and more work to be done. Check out the site and feel free to e-mail me your comments. Er…when my e-mail link is put back on the new site….

So some of those major changes are already in place. The process is exciting, and thrilling.

It’s also scary and exhausting. There’s a lot of comfort in doing the same old thing. Even if the same old thing isn’t working any more. I call it this limbo-like place of doing the same thing and expecting different results “Waiting for the buffalo to come back….”

And so the thought of this last wholesale order from my last wholesale show (at least for the next year or so) has been holding me back.

And that’s why everything has gone wrong.

That insight–from ten minutes of writing, a page of verbal rambling–was like sighting a clear path through the clutter of my studio. AHA! So that’s what that’s all about!

Knowing what’s going on helps me see what needs to be done.

I will call the store owner tomorrow with my apologies. I will have peace offerings that hopefully will offset the inconvenience I’ve caused.

And with the power of the written word in hand, I will move on down my new path with a little more confidence.

And relief that, even if no one has time to really, truly listen right now, I can always listen to myself.

MADE IN AMERICA: Use Quality Components in Your Work

I have a friend in the jewelry biz in Providence, RI. When I was starting out in the biz, he was very kind to me.

He reps for one of many U.S. manufacturer of jewelry findings. These companies have been producing jewelry components–clasps, headpins, tie tacks, ear wires, etc.–for many decades.

And they are hurting.

I don’t understand all the issues. The world of commercial fashion jewelry is a mystery to me, though fashion jewelry is about all I ever buy.

Apparently, the minimalist, tiny jewelry of the late 1980’s and 90’s just about did everyone in. Jewelry sales plummeted, and what was sold was pretty small and simple. I’m personally glad that era is gone for awhile!

The way fashion jewelry is made and marketed has changed drastically, too. Much, much more is imported from overseas, and marked up 3, 4, even more times for resale. It’s hard for small jewelry producers to work with that kind of mark-up in a country where you would hope to at least pay your employees minimum wage and a few benefits.

The hobby jewelry industry has grown exponentially, too. More people than ever are making their own designs, whether for resale at craft shows, wholesale to stores or just for personal use. This is a good thing, actually. Jewelry is BIG again, interesting, collectible. But it also means the actual sales of components are in smaller lots. I buy HUNDREDS of components, not hundreds of thousands. I am pretty small potatoes to the jewelry components industry, and there are thousands more like me.

And the market has become more cost-driven than ever. If components can be made cheaply and quickly overseas and sold here for a fraction of U.S.-made products, people will buy them. As fads and fashion change almost overnight, quick turn around and variety are also the name of the game.

It would seem there is no place for those big ol’ dinosaur American manufacturers of jewelry components anymore.

Unless you care about quality. And choice.

This is not a “buy American!” rant. This is my personal worry about a world that is cost-driven above everything else.

Because ultimately, even if you try to AVOID the cost-driven mindset and buy quality, this “best price” thing can bite you in the butt.

Take a couple of recent headliner examples. It’s turning out that commercial pet food is now mostly made in China, and even if you think you are buying a premium brand for your beloved pet, chances are some shortcuts were made that not only compromised its quality, but perhaps your pet’s health (and life) as well.

It turns out that all those wholesome vitamins and herbal supplements you’ve been taking, because you care about your health and well-being, are probably made in China, too. And many may have the same dangerous quality control issues as uncovered in the recent pet food scandal.

Even though we cared about quality over price, even though we thought we were making good choices, it turns out we actually had NO choice. And very little of the quality we paid a premium for.

My experience with most imported jewelry components has similar threads. The parts look good in the catalogs. Just as nice as American-made products, but soooo much cheaper. What a great buy!

Until you have them in hand and see that they are just not as nicely made.

Or until you go to use them and realize the silver casting is not as well done. I have a whole batch of sterling toggle clasp sets where I have to hand-ream out the silver “sprue”-like stuff clogging the jump rings. It was a fine detail I overlooked until I actually put the parts into production, too late to return them.

Or until you actually sell the items and then have to deal with the returns for faulty parts–clasps that quit working after a few months, or micro-thin silver plating that wears off quickly. THAT was a fun lesson to learn in quality. NOT.

Lately I’ve seen advertisements for gold-filled components that my friend points out simply can’t be MADE in gold-fill. Gold-fill components are a nice-looking and well-priced alternative to gold. Real gold-fill is a kind of sandwich technique, with an actual layer of gold “bread” covering a base metal “filling”. It’s much more durable than gold plating, which is not regulated and so the gold plate can be as thin as a few microns.

But he points out that gold-fill cannot be used in CAST components. Because when the high heat of casting is applied, all the layers melt and blend together. You end up with a discolored glob of gold and base metal, NOT your lovely gold bread sandwich. Components made by casting and cannot possibly be “gold-filled”. They are probably gold-plated at best.

The clasps and findings he showed me are made of cast components.

Are they at least good-quality findings, though probably not gold-filled as advertised? Well, my thinking is, if they are not being truthful about what they are and what the actual gold content is, do I think they are being truthful about their durability?

I’m not a betting girl, but even if I were, that’s not a bet I’d make.

There are overseas components I do trust and use in my work. Sterling silver findings from Israel, Turkey and Italy offer variety and interest, and “work” just as hard as my American-made components. But I’ve learned the hard way to either test first, or ask my friend when it comes to other sources.

And there is a place in the world for cheap or low-quality.  Not every piece of jewelry is meant to last forever, or even more than a season.

What bothers me is, if people continue to choose price purely over quality, then someday, when all the American jewelry components can no longer compete with overseas manufacturers, they will fold up their tents and disappear.

And then we will have NO choice.

It’s up to us. It’s not about “buying American” to show our patriotism or “because we should.”

It’s because it’s the right choice all the way around.

CONSIGNMENT REVISITED

When I first started out in with my little art biz, consignment was the name of the game.

For those of you new to selling your work, consignment is when a store carries your work, but you are not paid until after it sells. Sometimes that means the end of the month after the month it sells. Wholesale, on the other hand, means a store pays upfront for your work–sometimes on the spot, before you ship, or within 10 to 30 days of the invoice date.

Most stores like to play it safe with a budding artist. “Leave a few pieces, we’ll see if it sells”, they explain. No risk to either party.

Actually, the very thought that a store would even let me leave my work with them was a thrill. I took my friends into the store and pointed out my work with pride. Look! My work is on their shelves!”

Flush with my first success, I wanted more. And so, like most craftspeople, I sought out more stores to consign with.

Soon the drawbacks of consignment became apparent. At one point, I had thousands of dollars’ worth of product sitting in a dozen stores, with no money in my pocket.

Sometimes the checks would dribble in, but only many weeks after the items actually sold. Worse, the paperwork was horrific. Some stores would send work back and ask for newer work. Often the returned goods were shopworn, or even damaged.

Since the stores didn’t actually have any money invested in my product, sometimes they didn’t put much energy into selling it. Sometimes I’d find my work on the bottom shelf, six inches off the floor. Not exactly the prime real estate spot in the place….

Consignment didn’t look so hot anymore.

As I got more astute about the business side of things, I demanded—and got—wholesale accounts. I wanted my money upfront, and if the items got damaged or stolen from the store, that was no longer my problem.

I became totally committed to wholesale. I did only one retail show a year. The rest of my business was selling directly to stores, catalog companies and galleries. I would actually sneer at consignment. It was only for those newbie artists who didn’t know any better. I maintained only a very few consignment accounts, mostly non-profits who didn’t or couldn’t buy my work outright. And only with the people who were very easy to deal with, and who kept great records.

After almost a decade, though, something funny happened.

As I became better known and my prices rose, I realized my work—especially my fiber work—was getting too pricey for most of the craft stores I marketed to. I could see that I really should move it on to art galleries. Art galleries who now mostly work on a consignment basis. (Gone are the heady days of the 70’s and 80’s when a gallery would buy the complete body of work of an artist outright.)

Something else happened, too. I got tired of filling orders.

I would make samples for a wholesale show. Customers would make their selections and I’d write up their orders. I would go back in the studio and make up work from the orders.

But lately I found myself dragging my feet. I didn’t WANT to make a dozen more of that design. I didn’t WANT to make sure the last bear sculpture I made was exactly the same size and price as the sample they’d ordered. I didn’t WANT to make the same thing in blue.

The last few years were tough on retailers, too. Cash flow was problematic. Even after an order was bought and paid for, and “not my problem” anymore, there was still griping. And pressure to swap out work that was moving slowly.

My costs of getting new work out in front of buyers rose. Printing and mailing a catalog gets expensive and time-consuming. It takes time to keep a website updated, especially if you’re a one-woman operation. I would spend thousands and thousands of dollars to do one wholesale show–and sit in my empty booth looking at empty aisles, wondering where my buyers were.

“You need to follow up after the show–call your stores and touch base with them!” Excellent advice. But why bother doing the show at all if I still have to work each account one at a time??

I hate to say it. But lately, the thought of working with complete freedom in my studio—making just what I want to make that day, in whatever design strikes my fancy, and whatever color choice excites me—is looking more and more appealing.

I could simply make a batch of whatever—jewelry, wall hangings, sculptures—pack it up, ship it out—and make more stuff.

This is actually one of the strengths of consignment: Because the store doesn’t have to tie up money in their inventory, they can experiment with new artists, new designs, or new (usually higher) price points.

If the stock comes back eventually, it can go into stock for my retail shows and open studio events. Since I’m now making more one-of-a-kind designs, this can be a good thing. I’ll have more selections available to my retail customers, not just more blue fish earrings.

I’ve learned that if it doesn’t sell in one store, another may do better with it.

And the thousands of dollars saved by not doing wholesale shows would buy a lot of beautiful new beads and fabrics…. Maybe even a killer magazine ad or two.

Sure enough, I got a call last month from a new gallery. They’d just discovered my work, and they are very, very excited about it. I looked at their website, and it looks good. Really, really good. A good fit, a good location, a beautiful gallery.

And they only do consignment.

I found myself saying, “That’s GREAT!! I’ll just pick out a good assortment and get it out to you.”

“Whatever you can send!” the owner exclaimed.

Could it be??

Is my future in consignment again???

P.S. For more on consignment, see this article from my Radio Userland blogsite from a series I did on getting started on selling to stores:

GETTING STARTED #13 What is Consignment?

GETTING IN YOUR OWN WAY

We all know what we want and where we want to go in life. And we all work hard to get there. Right?

Sometimes I’m not so sure.

The older I get, the more I notice how often people get in the way of their own success.

People say they want one thing, but seem to be working against themselves all along.

I see people who are desperate to get on board with companies and organizations they think can further their professional goals.  They become convinced that this is THE place they have to be.  No other will do.  They are so desperate, they resort to subterfuge and strong-arm techniques.

They think they’re being subtle and “smart”. But they’re actually being manipulative and deceitful. In fact, they end up ensuring that company will never do business with them, if they can help it.

I see people who want to be respected, who want to set a good example for others. But they lead double lives, negating everything they say professionally by what they do in their private lives. They’ve never learned that “do what I say, not what I do” only works for very young children–say, under three.

The folks who think they can lead these double lives do not understand how devastating it is when their masquerade is revealed. They may mean well. But they end up doing a tremendous disservice to their cause, no matter how dedicated they intend to be to it.

On the other hand, there are people with very little personal experience who feel they know enough to tell everyone else what to do.  But they’ve never walked the walk, they can only talk the talk.  “Advice” from these people sounds good, til you realize they’ve never actually put it into practice.

As artists, we can fall prey to the same temptations.

We say we want recognition, but we don’t work hard enough to get our work and our name out there. We sneer at others’ efforts to promote themselves, calling them “self-serving” or “braggarts”. (There’s a huge difference between puffing yourself up, and simply making sure the world knows about your art!)

We say we want an audience for our work, but we don’t produce enough work to sell. We find a million excuses not to paint, not to write. I’m always amazed at the people who don’t make time or even a physical space for their art in their lives. They often don’t create a single place in their home where they can sit down and make stuff.

We say our customers don’t appreciate us or understand our work, but we don’t try very hard to find the people that would appreciate and buy our work.

Or we berate the customers we do have. In fact, customer-bashing is often a popular artist pastime. Check out any professional on-line forum, and often the biggest thread is the “stupid customer” discussion. Artists cheer each other on to come up with the best snappy put-down to what they consider rude customer questions. I’m always astounded at the phenomenon, and try to avoid it totally. It’s just not good energy. I figure it also proves that those artists are doing the wrong shows!

We’re full of advice for other people, but never ask if what worked for us in our particular situation, is actually what might work for them in theirs.

Or we don’t realize that they didn’t even actually ask us for our advice.  (Ouch!)

We all do this to some extent.  We all have a disconnect between the world inside our head and the world “out there.” It’s part of our human nature.  And sometimes it’s a necessary disconnect.

It’s when it’s not getting you what you want that it becomes a problem.  As Dr. Phil is fond of saying, “Is that working for you?”

The last few years have been a time of much introspection on my part. It hurts to look at the fuzzy zone where my words and my actions should meet, and see what’s matching up and what isn’t. Sometimes it’s downright embarrassing.

But I have to do it. And so should you.

Periodically assess yourself. Pull out your business plan occasionally and see where you stand.

If you’ve achieved many of your goals, then congratulations! Your actions are in alignment with your intentions.

If not, why not?

Did you simply forget what you set out to do? Time to think hard about what you really want, and determine if your current actions will get you there.

Did your goals change, and you forgot to change your process? Remember that sad adage, “Do the same thing, expect different results” is a recipe for unhappiness.
Did you achieve your first round, but forgot to set new goals? That’s wonderful! Time to get your Big Dream hat on again. Now you know the process works, and you can dream even bigger.

Be prepared to forgive yourself if you find yourself off target. Sometimes, I suspect we get off-course because we were never really dedicated to the course we chose. Or we honestly don’t realize how much we’ve fooled ourselves.

Or we find we really don’t want that anymore.  Our needs, our desires have changed.

And that’s okay, too.

We all do it. We are human, after all, not computer programs.

Just be willing to stop and check your map.

Ask for directions if you are well and truly lost.

Or maybe even simply enjoy the new route you find yourself on.

PERFECT WORK

It never fails. It’s only six weeks before my big retail show, the annual League of NH Craftsmen’s Fair, and I’m bursting with new jewelry designs.

Every year, this show seems to pull my best work out of me. This year is no exception. I’m stunned at the new ideas that seem to flow out my brain and through my hands. Nothing like a hard deadline to get those brain cells pumpin’!

I sometimes stop in mid-necklace design to rush over to my polymer station, feverishly making new beads that I just “have to have” to complete the look.

I have a billion beads. Yet late Sunday night I pored over one of my favorite bead sources, buying unusual new beads for a new design that’s been floating in my head.

The colors are amazing, too.   It’s like the new soapstone material I invented last year has opened a whole new color palette for my work.  I find myself digging through my bead stash, looking for those red coral beads I thought I’d never use….  I’m using semi-precious stones whose names I can’t even pronounce.  What the heck is variscite??  I thought gaspite was bad…

These designs look even more tribal and eclectic. The beading looks like someone found a handful of beads at an archeological dig and restrung a broken necklace. I know that doesn’t SOUND beautiful, but trust me, it is!

I’m just about ready to call my photographer for an emergency photo session. I want to post a sneak preview of these new creations on my website.

As I finish each piece, I take a minute to pause and admire it. I find myself murmuring, “This one is perfect!”

I caught myself at it this morning, and had to laugh.

Because every year I think I’ve found the perfect design. I can’t imagine how it could be better. I get a little anxious–“How will I ever top this??”–and fret about when I run out of ideas.

And every year, it just gets a little better, and a little more exciting.

Isn’t the creative process funny?

GO AHEAD, BREAK IT!

I subscribe to a newsletter from http://www.coachlee.com. Every day I get a “thought” from this website. Usually I don’t have time to read them. But today this headline caught my eye:

Just Because It Breaks, Doesn’t Mean You Broke It

Coach Lee goes on to say, “It can be so frustrating when something breaks while you are using it. The assumption by many is that if it breaks while you were using it, it is your fault. Not true. Timing is everything. When something breaks when you are using it, it is a matter of timing not fault. Things break. Don’t feel bad or guilty if it just happens to break during your time of use.”

It’s funny, but the one thing not addressed in this article is why things break when we use them.

It’s because when they are at rest, there is equilibrium. No energy in, no energy out.  No force.

But when we add energy, we disturb that equilibrium.   Think how a light bulb usually burns out when we turn the light on.   It’s that tiny surge from new energy that causes it to flare out–rarely while it’s burning.

So, too things break when we use them.  Only when we touch it/move it/use it/push it/twist it/pick it up does it fall apart in our hands.

And as I struggle to put together a new model for getting my art out into the world, wondering why everything seemed to go wrong in the first place, I realize this is the answer

Everything went “wrong” because I was doing something.

Everything went “wrong” because I was doing something.

I was making my art.

I was  getting it out into the world.

I was exhibiting it, showing it, selling it, promoting it, writing about it

f I had simply been a little lump, sitting in my studio and doing NOTHING, then NOTHING would have “gone wrong.”

And of course, what exactly went wrong?

The economy soured, massive terrorist attacks paralyzed our country, and our national shopping spree went into lock-down mode. Buyers for craft galleries stopped going to wholesale shows, stopped buying new work, and many even went out of business.

So what did I do wrong?<

Not much.

It wasn’t about me.

I just kept trying the same old things for awhile. And when they worked, I kept doing them.< (My one big retail show, the League of New Hampshire Craftsmen’s Annual Fair, just got better and better for me.)

When the same old things didn’t work, I tried something new. A new show, more self-promotion, new marketing materials, new work.

Some of it worked, and some of it didn’t. And I’m still in that process of trying something new.

Of course it all “broke” while I was “using it”!<

I was out there with my art, trying to give it everything I had. Taking risks, new ventures, putting every cent I earned back into the business of getting my art out there.

I tried new presentations for my art—framing with glass, framing without glass, smaller work, bigger work, less expensive work, more expensive work.

And of course I made mistakes.

Because, like the old adage says, if you aren’t making mistakes, you aren’t trying hard enough.

So no more apologizing from me on not having this all figured out yet. I’m in this for the long haul. It may take me twenty years to be an overnight success.

But when I make it—and there’s no doubt in my mind I will—you will have heard about it from someone who started out just a handful of years before the worst economy in 30 years—and came through the other side.

So go ahead. Make mistakes. Break it!

It means you’re working it.

It means you’re doing something right.

BORN TO BUZZ: Create Your Own Reality

I believe we chose our own reality.

I’ve seen that process in action—two people interact, and both have their own very clear ideas about what actually took place.The same event happens to two different people–one views it as a blessing, the other as a blight.

But saying we choose our reality sounds so very lightweight. There’s no getting around cold hard facts, right? Reality is reality—if your car is going off a cliff, no amount of wishful thinking is going to keep you from eventually hitting the ground.

Well, I guess there is reality, and then there’s reality. So much of what holds us back in life, and in our art, is NOT about cold hard fact, nor is it as concrete as driving off a cliff.

Most of our obstacles are tied up with perceptions and misperceptions, based in fear, in indecision, or results from unclear goals and unfocused efforts.

And all of THESE conditions are, indeed, things we can choose how we think about them.

I wrote recently about actually experiencing a thought burp up in the middle of the night—and watching my mind literally pounce on it and begin to worry a solution out of it.

Til I realized, “This is not a problem I have to solve. It’s just a thought!”

And I’ve been reading more and more about “mindfulness”, the process of observing and naming your thoughts without the compulsion to act on them or even judge them. “Oh, look, there’s that insecure feeling again….” “Wow, I feel like smacking my cat. I must be having an angry thought about her ralphing on the couch.”

But why do I…we…have to go through these processes to achieve inner peace? Why is my brain always buzzing? What’s wrong with me and my brain, anyway?

I’ve been blaming it on menopause and looking for a cessation any day now. But more and more women are telling me, “Oh, it’s not that simple….”, sending me into new panic. You mean it’s not going to just go away on its own?? Horrors!!!

But yesterday I found hope.

I read the most remarkable book excerpt in the July 2007 issue of OPRAH magazine.It’s from Ruth King’s book, HEALING RAGE: Women Making Inner Peace Possible”. You can read more about Ms. King’s book here.

The excerpt reads:

“The mind’s job is to be busy with thought—24/7. The problem is that we often confuse the activities of the mind with the whole truth…A single wave of emotion can feel like the vast ocean at any given time, yet it is still only a wave, to be followed by another…Emotions are fed by thoughts that believe they are the only reality…We can be informed, even entertained by [them] without the urgency to believe them or act on them.”

I have read and reread that excerpt.

“The mind’s job is to be busy with thought—24/7.”

Our consciousness constantly creates thought because that is its function. There’s nothing wrong, that’s just what it’s supposed to do. That’s why it’s so hard to “empty your mind” when you meditate, so hard not to think of brass monkeys when told not to.

We have brain buzz because our brains are born to buzz.

And notice the next big sentence:

“Emotions are fed by thoughts that believe they are the only reality…”

If this is true, then here is the linchpin behind the whole “choose your own reality” philosophy.

If how we feel is based on thoughts, and any given thought can be given credibility if we let it, then we can CHOOSE which thoughts we give credence to, and which ones we won’t.

I don’t think it will be easy. I’m sure it takes practice, practice, practice.

But if such peace-of-mind is really so within my grasp, I’m willing to put a little time into making that happen.

I feel like this marshaling of my thoughts and processes is going to be so good for my art, and for my life.

GOODBYE LITTLE RAT

Yesterday was a hard day. I had to take my daughter’s pet rat to the vet to be put down.

I cried and cried as she fell asleep in my hands and then died peacefully. She was the sweetest animal that has ever been in my care.

I know, I know. I know EXACTLY what you’re thinking. “Rat” and “sweet” do not belong in the same sentence, unless it’s something like, “We killed the rat, SWEET!”

I’ve never been fond of rats, and a year living in downtown Baltimore almost 25 years ago sealed the deal. Even looking at them made me nervous. Movies like “Willard” and “The Bone Collector” merely confirmed my harsh opinion. And no one ever disagreed with me.

Oh, from time to time, I’d hear people say, “Oh, but pet rats are so SWEET!” My response was, “Yeah. Right!” A stint as a rat handler at our local human society changed my mind substantially, but I still got nipped a lot. I grew to see their charms, and I could see how desperately they sought affection. But never really thought I’d grow to see one as an uber-pet.

Until this particular little rat came into our home.

My daughter bought her as a baby at a local pet store, and snuck her into the house. She hid her inside a large box in her bedroom for months before I discovered her. (Waist-high piles of clothes and books and girl trash were very effective at keeping me out of the room.)

When I discovered the rat, Robin thought it was funny her parents were so “dumb” they hadn’t known she’d had a rat for months. I pointed out it wasn’t exactly cool to have a room so messy, you could hide rats in it.

As Robin’s friends and boyfriends dominated her life more, and she spent less time at home, I felt guilty about the rat. I did a little research and learned they are intensely social animals. So social, one source admonished, that having a single rat was tantamount to….well, rat abuse. I resolved to spend an hour every evening handling the rat while I watched TV with my family.

And I ended up falling in love with that silly little thing.

Robin called her Mavra (MAHV-rah) after some Welsh thing, and we never did learn what it meant or how it’s really spelled.

Mavra slept most of the day, and when the TV came on, she knew it was social time.

She’d scrabble out of her house, a little cardboard box we’d cut doors in. Inside that box was her her nest. I now understand where the term “rat’s nest” comes from. It’s a large, carefully constructed bird’s nest made with everything they can get their paws and teeth on. Every time we cleaned her cage, we gave her a new supply of newspaper strips, toilet paper, a rag or sock. She would carefully pull each piece inside her box and trim them down to bite-size pieces. Then each piece would be carefully stuffed into the next. This would keep her busy for hours. They were amazing to look at.

I’d pick her up and let her run around my lap and legs a little, before settling in for a cuddle. Sometimes I’d stick her in a pouch or an old cloth purse, and actually “wear” her into my studio. I’d do some work or read e-mail while she scrabbled around happily, eating tortilla chips, occasionally sticking her nose out for a peek.

She was very much like a dog in her behavior–happy, affable, curious. She never once bit me or anyone else while being handled, not even when she was given food. She even learned not to pee on us, once she realized we didn’t like it. We didn’t have to do much–we would just say, “Oh, Mavra!” sadly and put her back in the cage and go clean ourselves up. She figured out what was up with that, and rarely peed on us after that.

Mostly, she loved to lie happily in my lap and have her head stroked, just like a dog. Long strokes from her nose over her eyes and deeply rubbing her ears. She would chatter her teeth, rat behavior that means, “YES!! I LIKE that!” Often she would fall asleep.

Robin took Mavra with her last fall to her first internship. I’m so glad she did! The internship fell through, but not before Robin had spent months alone in a tiny studio apartment, in a tiny town hours away, so isolated her only social contacts were at the restaurant she worked lunches at. Mavra kept her company during the long, long hours of solitude.

I owed Mavra one for that.

I guess what broke my heart as she died is I know very few people would ever look further than her ratty head and her snake-ish tail, and see deeper to the loving and gentle heart inside. Even my husband never looked at her without shuddering, and most people’s initial reaction was “eeeuw!”

But rat lovers know.

Many folks are not who they seem on the outside. Some are pretty pretty, but shallow and cruel inside. Some are ugly or unassuming, but they are loving and kind.

Give me the rats of the world any day.

I found an old soft t-shirt of Robin’s to bury her in. I tucked her in the pocket, and tucked her tail in around her. Doug and I buried her in our backyard with our other beloved pets. I found a stone from a beach in Rhode Island that amazingly, looked like a rat–gray and long, with one pointed end and a rounded end, and flat on the bottom. I put it on her grave.

Goodbye, sweet Mavra. I hope you find a warm little nest and a pile of tortilla chips in heaven. And someone to soothe you to sleep each night.

I will not forget you soon.

IT’S JUST LIFE

My husband and I had a good talk yesterday. We’re both feeling a little fragile, a little down, a little overwhelmed right now.

We talked about the same stuff we always talk about when we feel this way. Whether what we’re doing is ever going to amount to anything. Whether it’s worth doing, worth all the effort and sacrifices we’ve made. Whether we’ve made the right choices. Or if there are harder choices yet to be made.

We don’t have unbridled youth and enthusiasm in front of us anymore. We’ve long passed even the most generous outer boundary of “middle age”.

It’s a time for thinking carefully about what we want the next 20 years to look like, and what we have to do to make that happen. Is this the right work for us? If it is, why is it so hard?

Is it time to hunker down and dig in? Or is it time to move on to the next thing? When do you know when it’s time to simply try something else?<

Do we stay in this small New England town, where we’ve built a great family life and made many friends? Or do we look for another region of the country for this next chapter in our lives? It’s got to have lots of sunshine but not too hot. It’s got to have community access to a great lap pool. It’s got to have access to horses I can ride. NO BLACK FLIES!

Do we sell our beautiful but increasingly high-maintenance 1850’s home? Or put more sweat equity into it, both for personal enjoyment and to keep costs down? I want to state for the record right here that I personally get very little enjoyment from engaging in sweat equity. One of my favorite movie lines of all times is from a trailer from a movie starring Dan Aykroyd and Rosie O’Donnell as special agents undercover, infiltrating some sort of sex club. A studly club employee, wearing a leather harness, says to Rosie in a sultry voice, “How can I fulfill your wildest fantasy?” And Rosie says, “Go paint my house.”

How do we take advantage of these last few years with our youngest child at home?< Is this the time to travel more? Or should we stick close to home?

Money is tighter than ever, not what we expected to happen at this age.< Should we cut back on spending as much as possible? Or throw fiscal caution to the wind and live a little?

There’s no way to answer these questions, of course. All we can do is keep our lines of communication open. And keep our options open. And be open to opportunity when it crosses our path.

Much as we yearn for a more clear road map right now, we know there’s no such thing. Oh, people can plan and prepare. But life has a way of throwing all kinds of twists and surprises at you, some good and some bad.

I know, too, that some of our choices have been excellent ones. As I drifted off to sleep last night, I realized one of my best choices ever was to be with someone who wants to be the person I can talk to about this stuff.

There are many other good choices that are just as clear to me. Even the bad choices have been….instructional.

In the end, it’s not about perfect choices.

It’s being able to learn and grow from everything that happens. To stay hopeful. To keep courage. To try new things, and make new choices. And to muddle on as best we can.

Because as life unfolds, it affects people one of two ways.

They can get thicker.

Or they can get deeper and richer.

I already know which kind of person I want to be.

THE POWER OF TINY CHANGES

I had surgery last week, and am only starting to feel back to normal now.

It was much, much more exhausting and debilitating than I’d thought or planned for, starting with the hospital stay.

My room was across from the nurses’ station, and I could hear EVERYTHING going on. I had a talkative roommate who never quit. She was very nice, but the last straw was the “Are you asleep?” queries at 2 a.m., 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. Between that, and the almost hourly nurse visits (alternating between me and my roommate) and I was a basket case by 6 a.m. When my husband showed up the next day to take me home, he asked brightly, “Did you catch up on your sleep?”, I dissolved into a puddle of tears.

I couldn’t wait to get home and sleep, sleep, sleep. After the two-hour drive home, that is.

Finally, I was home, sweet home. And I DID sleep, off and on, almost all of that first day.

By the second day, though, I had a most unwelcome visitor. Racking back pain, sciatica, brought on by inactivity and too much bed rest. The powerful meds I was on couldn’t touch it. It was so violent, I could only find relief by walking or standing—NOT what my exhausted body, already nauseated by the strong meds, could cope with so soon after surgery.

I was in major pain, and I was terrified. I imagined every single worst case scenario: blood clot, slipped disk, permanent pain.

I felt totally out of control of my situation.

Absolutely nothing gave me any comfort, or interested me, beyond the pain.

I thought it would last forever. That’s what it felt like.

After a few phone calls to my doctor and some adjustments to my medication and regime, I was able to get some relief by the next day.

But I was STILL exhausted. And worse, still depressed. The worst of the pain was gone. Hallelujah! (The blessing was, by contrast, my incisions felt great! But I still found absolutely no interest or comfort in anything. Not my family, not my home, not the beautiful June day. I felt exhausted and used up.

My studio and the orders waiting for me there felt like a burden more than anything.

I tried thinking of the simplest pleasures—coffee and chocolate (can’t have any for two months); alcohol (can’t have any for two months); sex (OW! I don’t even want to think about it!); yard sales (What?? Bring home more junk? No way!); movies (can’t sit that long). Even reading, usually my prime escape, seemed dull and sad.

The list grew longer. This scared me almost as much as the pain. I went to bed last night feeling pale and wan and futile.

But then something happened.

I woke up this morning.

My first thought was, “I could make the bed.” (I don’t know why, but I always feel better when the bed is made.) That thought felt pretty good.

My second thought was, “I could fold some towels.< That wouldn’t be too hard.”

I did. That felt pretty good, too. (I was sure to not think too hard about the other baskets of laundry sitting there looking hopeful.)

I felt better.

My third thought was, “I could clean the rat’s cage. That wouldn’t be too hard.” Mavra is the sweetest animal on the earth, but she is a bit smelly in her old age.

My fourth thought was, “Maybe I could just do one or two things in my studio today. Maybe just get one surface clear.” I knew I would feel better if I could accomplish that.

My fifth thought was, “I can’t believe how much better I feel just doing these tiny tasks!”

My last thought? “I should blog this!”

So here I am, before I’ve even made the bed or had breakfast. Before the thought fled my mind, which so many do with frightening frequency lately.

Why do making these small changes to my environment make me feel so much better??

I think this is another version of the micro-tasks I’ve written about before. The one where, if you are trying to exercise more but can’t find the time or inclination, you just put on your work-out clothes. Because just committing to that tiny action often leads to the bigger commitment, to actually work out.

There’s something good about realizing you can make tiny changes and achieve small—very small—results. Results that make a difference.

There’s something empowering about those tiny changes, in themselves, that can make you feel much, much better about yourself. BEFORE those changes can even really make that difference.

Oh, yes, and getting some sleep.

The next time you find yourself overwhelmed about life or your work, first take care of yourself.

Focus on getting through it, even if you can’t see the end. Know that it WILL get better, eventually.

And as soon as you can, make some teensy, little changes for the better. Even if you can’t see where they fit in the bigger picture.

Because just CHOOSING to make those changes is a good thing.

And making even TINY changes is a better thing.

They WILL add up. And you will quickly move on to even bigger and better changes.

But even more importantly, they will change YOU.

WHY, WHY, WHY?? How to Write a Stronger Artist Statement

I’ve just finished the final edits for an article I wrote for FiberArts magazine. You can learn more about the magazine here.

The article is about exhibition proposals–the “pitch” you make to a venue for a solo exhibition. It’s scheduled to run in the September issue, so put it on your calendars!

I think it’s going to be a slightly different take on similar articles. I actually went “behind the curtains”to see how such proposals are evaluated. I got to see firsthand which ones had pizazz and which ones didn’t–and more importantly, why.

Coincidentally, I also just finished my first proposal for public art. When a federal building project is budgeted, a certain percentage of the money involved is dedicated to providing art to decorate it–an amazing concept, and one that has long interested me.

You can read more about public art here.

Usually the scale is out of my league, and many designated sites are not conducive to fiber (outdoor installations, for example.) But this one was of manageable size. Best of all, I instantly felt it was a good fit for my artwork.
Why? Good question.

I’m not being facetious. When it comes to submitting a great proposal, writing a press release, or creating an astounding artist statement, WHY? is the very best question you can ask.

I found this out a few years ago while teaching a workshop on press kits.

My message was, the whole point of a press release is telling your story and getting it published in a newspaper or magazine.

So how do you tell a compelling story? I started with the 5 W’s (who, what, when, where, why, and how). That’s easy for most people.

But everyone was getting stuck on “why?”

They couldn’t get past the cliches we fall into when we are afraid to dig deeper.

“Because I just love color.” “I just love fabric.” “I dunno why I do it, I just like doing it.” “It’s so much fun!”

Even more telling, no one got WHY the “why” is so important.

I had a flash of insight.

Why?” is “Why do you care?” And “Why should I care?” (Sounds harsh, but true.)

To temper the process, I would just keep asking “why?” until I got a strong answer.

So I just asked “why?”

I asked “why” over and over and over, until we got to the heart of their story.

It’s simple. And it works.

I’m reading a terrific book called MADE TO STICK by brothers Chip and Dan Heath http://www.madetostick.com/ I was delighted to read the same technique recommended to get to the “core idea” you are trying to sell to people.

I use “sell” loosely, because whatever your product is–a movie, a car, a cleaning service, a painting, a charity–you have to make some connection with your audience in order for them to want it.

That connection, that “story”, can be about value, prestige, entertainment, convenience, whatever.

For most of us, “Why?” will get you to that story faster than the speed of light.

Here’s one example. Years ago, a friend who works with young adults with special needs complained about one former client he worked out with regularly.

His complaints were funny and amusing. But his experience sounded like so much trouble, I wondered why he continued to spend time with this young person.

I kept asking him why. He kept making vague excuses, none of which made sense. I kept saying, “But if this person is SO ANNOYING, why do you continue to do this??”

Finally, our friend burst out, “Because these people are different. They’re a little weird, they’re a little goofy. It can be scary if you don’t understand. In our culture, this tends to set them apart–they get marginalized, they get put aside. “

But the conditions that make them seem “odd” also give them amazing qualities. They have strengths and opportunities to offer us. Their “differences” are just part of the full spectrum of being human.”

I’ve always felt that, if only we could learn to be a little more understanding, a little more tolerant, then all our lives would be so much richer.”

As I heard this story, I felt myself determined to be a little more understanding, a little more tolerant.

The “why” had come through. My friend had made that connection by sharing that true story.

FWIW, in my book, one powerful story comes when we are motivated to be the best kind of person we aspire to be. To see common ground with others, and thus chose to act out of love, courage, passion and grace instead of fear and hate and pettiness.

So here I was with my first public art proposal. I found many of the same principles I’d learned from my research on the exhibition proposal article applied. But the biggest hurdle for me, as I said, was simply “why?”

WHY was my artwork a good fit for their proposal?

Once I answered that question to my satisfaction (and hopefully theirs!), I felt I had a good, strong proposal. I sent it off knowing I’d made my best effort.

Try this, the next time you need to really connect with an audience. Before you write your next artist statement, or submit your next exhibit proposal. Before you do your next show. Before you are interviewed by your local newspaper.

If this gets hard, ask a trusted friend to ask you, and tell them to push until they get the real answer.

Ask yourself “why”.

But ask it more than once.

Keep asking yourself “why?” until you get to the very heart of what motivates you.
Don’t stop til you reach the truth.

Trust me, you will know.

E-MAIL TIP 4 U

I mentioned earlier that as recently as a year or so ago, I was using a very old mail program called Eudora.

Yes, I am married to one of the most highly respected high-tech journalists in the world, and I am usually forced kicking and screaming into new technology.

Eudora had some good things.  I couldn’t receive anything in HTML and couldn’t receive photo images.  Pretty lame.  It was also almost impossible to get a computer virus.

So I was  slow and out of most loops, but I was safe.

Eventually my husband convinced me to move to another program.  It was better, and I got used to it.

Then last year, he suggested I switch again, to Gmail.

Well, I just about threw a fit.  I’m at the age where, in order to learn something new, an old fact has to leave the building.  And I already can’t remember my mother’s birthday.

Learn a new mail program?  Again?!!  No way, Jose.  (Or as my daughter used to misquote when she was four, “I say you’re wrong, Jose!”)   Why on earth would I want to put myself through that learning curve?

He told me.  It sounded good.  I tried it.

It’s true!    

With Gmail, all conversations are threaded.  That means if you and I have an e-mail discussion, our complete discussion is “hooked” together.  In fact, all our e-mails will appear in subsequent replies.

This sounds cumbersome, but it’s not.  Because in Gmail, all that extra text is suppressed unless you click on a link within that e-mail.    It doesn’t actually print out unless you want it to, or til you want it to.

When you or that other person reply in the thread, the entire thread is bumped back up in your “in box”.  So if they reply today to your e-mail from last week, you don’t have to go back to last week to find that.   And the entire conversation comes along with it.

As much of the subject line, and the first line of the e-mail, appear in your in box.  This seemed like a little thing.  But it’s actually hugely helpful for finding the right e-mail when you’re looking for a specific one.

Which brings me to the best thing about Gmail:

You can search it!

You can search it just as easily as searching the web.  Gmail is Google mail, after all.  (Did I forget to say that?  Yes, I did.  Sorry!)

If I want to find that conversation I had with a magazine editor two months ago, I don’t have to search back two months and guess what day we talked.  I don’t even have to pick dates to search.  I can simply search for a few keywords–the name of the magazine, or his name or what we were talking about.

Gmail will pull up every e-mail thread with those keywords.  Not just the separate e-mails, but the entire threads.

It’s then a simple thing to find the conversation I want and find the information I need.

The only drawback was losing my e-mail with my domain name and website in it (although Jon set it up so I can still receive mail sent to luann@luannudell.com, so that isn’t a big deal.)

But I’m finding luannudell@gmail.com is a lot easier for folks to remember than  even my old domain name e-mail.  I think that’s because even I have trouble remembering if a good friend’s domain name e-mail is bob@bobtheguineapig.com, or bobtheguineapig@bobtheguineapig.com, or info@bobtheguineapig.com, etc.

So my business tip for you today is, go grab your name at Gmail.  Try it for a few weeks, keeping your old e-mail addy.  If you hate it, cancel your account and call me irresponsible.

I have a feeling you’re going to love it as much as I do.

COPING WITH COPYCATS: Getting Past the Fear of Being Copied

It’s ultimately better (for YOU) to get out there and make MORE art than to protect what you’ve got.

An artist on a crafts forum posted about someone finding a protected image file on her website. The person had left a cryptic message on her guest book: “Thanks”.

The artist is in a panic about possible copyright infringement. Will her design be stolen? Manufactured in China? Sold in Target stores across the U.S.??

It’s a real fear for artists today, and I don’t want to make light of it. She received plenty of good advice about dealing with copyright infringement, and what you can do about it. (Precious little, actually.)

But it also brought me back to the times I thought someone was stealing my designs. And what kind of energy that built in me.

Here is my take on it, FWIW:

I know the potential for someone lifting your images is real.

On the other hand, you’ve really worked yourself up over one word someone posted to your guest book.

I do not mean to disrespect your fears or feelings here–we ALL do this! And this incident may indeed be legitimate grounds for concern.

BUT my thoughts will be a little different than those who are giving you sound advice about copyright issues:

Try not to let anxiety and fear drive all your business decisions.

Your best defense against having a design stolen is what’s actually good for you as an artist as well: Keep moving! Keep developing more work, keep your ideas coming, keep your work fresh.

I’ve been there. I’ve found myself in situations where I felt paralyzed, fearful an action would put me in the way of being copied or my designs ripped off.

But when I look back, I realize that all the energy I thought I had to devote to protecting myself, would have better spent simply getting my work out there and making a heckuva lot more of it.

I’m NOT saying roll over and play dead. Sometimes all that’s needed is a cease-and-desist letter from you or your family lawyer to put a little fear into the heart of your copycat.

I’m saying that the energy you put into controlling this possibility could be better spent on your artwork.

In fact, if you “shut down” and try to control all access to your images, and focus on protecting yourself, you will be working against yourself.

In fact, your best defense is to get your work established, recognizable, and GOOD. True, that alone may not get you $$ from the design infringement. But it goes a long way to getting the infringement STOPPED.

We only have so much time, energy and money to spend on the things that are important to us. We read in the news about people who win big lawsuits and huge settlements. It’s easy to think that could be us.

In reality, those “windfalls” involve time, angst, lots of lawyers, and yes, more money. When people say, “Nobody gets rich but the lawyers”, believe them.

In the end, even if you COULD get rich and famous from defending a design, is that what you want?

Or do you want to get rich and famous by getting your work out into the world and seen and enjoyed and bought by as many people as possible?

CLIMBING THE WALLS

Climbing walls teaches me about taking risks and having fun doing it.

A few weeks ago, on a whim, I visited the wall climbing class at our local Y.

I found a small group of avid, enthusiastic climbers. Before long, I found myself strapped into a climbing harness and scrambling up a wall.

It’s exhilarating. Exciting. Exhausting!! After two days of climbing, my hands and forearms feel like jello. No, scratch that. Jello bounces. Let’s make that limp, cooked spaghetti.

Here’s my big breakthrough moment while climbing the walls:

It’s okay to fall.

I obsessed at first about picking “safe” holds, making sure my feet were firmly planted before I made my next move. When I couldn’t find the next spot to move to, I’d panic. I worried I wasn’t making good decisions.

Was I doing it right??

I was terrified to fall.

But my coach finally convinced me it’s okay to fall. “Everyone falls!” she exclaimed. (She’s 65, by the way, and would look better in a bikini than most 20-year-olds I know.)

In fact, you SHOULD fall. When you get to a tricky bit, try a little jump up. Try a hold you’re not sure of. Reach. Leap. Go for it.

Because—and this is important:

You’ve got nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

Because the point of climbing, oddly enough, is NOT to avoid falling. It’s simply to get to the top–any way you can.

You can dash up, you can scramble, you can go slow and stop and rest. You can go up sideways, you can stretch off to one side. You can even just jam your foot against the wall, and push off against that. If you’re stuck, you can simply decide to take a little leap of faith. Take that big step up and lunge for that handhold you’re sure is just out of reach….

Because even if you peel away from the wall, you are perfectly safe.

You’re in your harness, your spotter has a rope on you, and you’re not going anywhere until you say you want to come down. (Which is pretty darn fun, too!)

As I went up the wall for the third day today, I actually felt my brain unlocking.

I thought of that saying: “What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?”

Because when it comes to taking chances with our climbs, with our ambition, with our art, failing does not kill you.

Oh, your pride may be ruffled a little. And I’m sure there are some nasty souls somewhere who will take pleasure in your little downfall.

But I would rather focus on those enthusiastic voices below, the ones who are taking real joy in your efforts. The ones who really want to see you make it, all the way to the top.

And the rewards are so great.

“Beautiful climb! Good job! You made it!”

Hello world!

Welcome to my new blog site!

But my old blog site is still good, too.

For years, I’ve blogged at Radio Userland. It was easy, and I knew how to do it.

I hate making big changes. But I realized my old blog was difficult to search for information.

Nothing’s changed except the location, except I hope it’s easier to find the information you’re looking for here. And maybe I’ll finally learn how to post images, too.

So feel free to check back at my old blog, starting with Holding Onto “Facts” That Hold You Back for years of posts on business skills for artists, and stories about my life as an artist.

And get ready for moi entering the 21st century–at last!