There’s an Audience for Everything: Mourning the End of Regretsy.com and Celebrating What It Taught Me.

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.

It may take time to find your audience, but it’s out there somewhere!

Years ago, I came across a bizarre and funny website called Regretsy.com. Don’t bother looking for it, it’s long gone. And I still miss it today.

The author, the multi-facetted and multi-talented April Winchell, created the site, inspired by (duh) Etsy.

She regularly researched the popular handmade/vintage website looking for the most awful creations she could find, and reposted them with a snarky description. The site’s tagine was, “Handmade? It looks like you made it with your feet.”

You can see at least one sample of her posts here.

The site is long gone, but she compiled her fan favorites into a book  that you can buy online. More affordable options here.

Here’s the book blurb on Amazon:

“A chicken poncho. A painting of a corn dog. A clock made out of an old “mostly clean” cheese grater. All this and more await you in the pages of Regretsy, a veritable sideshow of handcrafts gone wrong. Based on the eponymous hit blog and arranged in categories such as Décor, Pet Humiliation, and Christmas, Regretsy.”

I miss Regretsy for several reasons.

One, it was simply hilarious. Winchell found the most bizarre examples of bad aesthetics, poor quality, obnoxious, revolting, weird handmade items I’ve ever seen, and encapsulated them with funny captions and faux descriptions.

Two, it proved there’s nothing you can’t find on Etsy, or the internet.

Three, though she openly made fun of the creations (and by extension, the creators who thought they were making something wonderful), almost every single person whose work was featured in her blog actually saw their sales increase. I’m sure at first there was some humiliation or hurt about their work being presented so….um…honestly. But they all wrote back to Winchell, thanking her for the increased visibility she gave them. Their sales soared as visitors raced to see the actual listing and descriptions, and many people bought those items.

What could have been hurtful and harmful carried a gift for these wacky, out-of-the-box-and-the-entire-ballpark makers.

But the fourth reason is today’s insight:

There is an audience for everything.

You just have to find it.

Regretsy drew so much success to these clueless makers, that eventually some makers actually intentionally made faux crap handmade work, hoping to be featured in her blog. But Winchell was wise to them, as this article (with a sample post) in The New Yorker Magazine, “Embracing the Culture of Fail” so eloquently states:

“… as a result, some try to drum up items to tempt Winchell’s eye. Winchell is rarely fooled: ‘I’ve seen a lot of pieces that have been created to get my attention (readers call it “Regretsy bait”). Generally speaking, the stuff that’s intentionally trying to get on Regretsy is just trying a little too hard. The real stuff has an earnestness about it that’s very hard to replicate.’”

Do you see it? That last sentence?

The real stuff has an earnestness about it that’s very hard to replicate….

Do you see how powerful it is, for artists of all kinds?

Even bad work has an audience. But it still has to have its own integrity, reflecting the true spirit of its maker.

Why is making the work that matters to us is so vitally important now?

At some point in our creative path, we’ve all fallen victim to believing other people are “doing it better”. When someone else’s work is selling fast, we tend to look at what they’re doing, and try it ourselves.

The first person to paint shoes, or rusty trucks, or a vineyard, the innovators, probably had some success with that subject. So did the early adaptors.

But as trends catch on, and everyone jumps on that boat, it can be much, much harder to stand out from the crowd, especially if the artist doesn’t have a cohesive body of work, a style and process that makes them unique.

There are not only trends in subject matter, but trends in media and materials, and technique.

The trick is to give our work the “touch” that only we can give it, that ‘earnestness’ Winchell quickly came to recognize, even within all the trashy creations she curated. And there are many ways to do that.

We can treat the popular subject in an entirely new manner, with our unique style.

We can skip over making what everybody else is making.

We can do it cheaper, of course, and that may bring us some success.

-We can use different media, we can make it smaller, or more colorful, or heck, not use color at all. In fact, I love how this artist, Diana Majumdar, paints scenes that remind me of the beauty to be found in the gray, dull season of winter, encouraging us to look beyond the drab and discover the miraculous. It’s not how Californians experience winter. But it’s definitely the winters I’ve lived for most of my life, and I find her work hauntingly beautiful in its own quiet way.

But here’s the easier—and deeper—way (which, by the way, is also the heart of Majumdar’s work):

Do the work you truly love, using the subjects you really care about, with the medium and techniques that feel “right to you. Create powerful titles that connect emotionally with viewers, and do it all in the way that is unique to you.

 And then go find your audience

 Yes, it’s time-consuming. Yes, it can be hard….although with the internet, and the ability for someone on the other side of the planet to see our work, today, it’s not as hard as it used to be. And yes, it can feel pretty random.

But someone, somewhere in the world, will feel the authenticity of what we do.

Someone will see our work, read our words, hear our song, and it will raise their hearts, just as the actual making of it raises ours.

Don’t give up. This is your own precious and amazing life. Share what you’ve learned, what you care about, what you believe in, and why.

Be your authentic self in the world. Because you are the only “you” there is, or ever will be.

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What You and M. Night Shyamalan Have In Common

What You and M. Night Shyamalan Have In Common

(Hint: It’s what ALL artists have to ignore!)

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.

(Hint: It’s what ALL artists have to ignore!)

I’m so overwhelmed with packing up my studio, I look for any excuse to take a break.

I came across an article, an interview of M. Night Shyamalan by Sopan Deb of the New York Times, about Shyamalan’s newest movie, “Glass”. I did not realize he was only 29 when he made the extraordinary (literally!) movie “The Sixth Sense”. The reveal—that the main character was dead—was as startling as Agatha Christie’s novel, “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” in 1926. (Spoiler alert!! The narrator turns out to be the actual murderer, a twist that redefined the genre, and created quite an uproar at the time.)

For years, Shyamalan created movies ahead of his time. “Unbreakable”, about the origin of a superhero, without spandex, was made years before the massive onslaught of comic book hero movies. (It’s actually gained in popularity since.) He was typecast as the movie guy with a “twist”. He’s been criticized as always having a twist, or ironically, the twist not being “twisty” enough.

“Glass” is considered his “comeback movie”, and many critics are roaring about it being “less than”, in their eyes.

Two things:

First, we went to see it last weekend. We both loved it!

The approach is very different than current action-superhero movies. Not a lot of CGI, which makes it feel more grounded, more realistic. The camera action draws us in, making it feel like we are in the same room as the protagonists. The tension is maintained throughout the movie.

The ending was deeply moving, and the twist? Well, I love spoilers, but since most people won’t, I won’t provide them here.  Suffice to say, we are left knowing the pain and suffering of all its characters, and the flip side of the “villains”.

Once again, Shyamalan has created a complex, and deeply human film.

Second, what deeply resonated with me in the article was when the interviewer asked him about how the movie is framed makes the film seem like a “comeback” for him, making it seem like his work has been “less than” in the years between. “Was that frustrating for you?”

Here is what Shyamalan says, a response worthy of all creatives:

“No, the journey isn’t really about what others are saying about you. It just can’t be. You’re taking all of your power away from you. That’s not where your energy should be….”

Artists and all kinds of creative people get criticism all the time. Some is constructive, but much of it isn’t.

It’s our human nature to listen. We are hard-wired to want to belong, to be part of a community. Criticism can feel like we don’t belong.

It takes courage and perseverance to recognize the flip side of this innate trait:

Our desire–our NEED–to be seen as an individual.

When we recognize that our work may sometimes (or often!) be seen as “not enough”, or not worth the price, or some other “less than”, and keep making it anyway, because that is how we see ourselves in the world, it’s powerful.

Yes, we can all improve our work. Yes, we can all do better. We are all a “work in progress.” Sometimes negative feedback and setbacks take their toll, and sometimes it only spurs us on to greater heights.

But in the end, the only person we have to answer to, is ourselves. Only you can determine what, if anything, needs to change in your art.

Lots of things (recessions, war, living in a small town or an isolated area, places where there are few people who like our work, or few who like it but can’t afford it), it feels like the world doesn’t want our work.  Thanks to social media marketing, we can overcome location, in time. Recessions ease and pass. The day I learned everyone’s sales had slumped awhile back, was a lit-tul embarrassing. (It’s not always about me–doh!)

But that feeling can be hard to ignore.

In my fierce beginnings with my art, I knew that if only one in a thousand people liked my work, that meant there was still an audience of over 7,500,000 in the world.

And if only one person in a million were willing to actually buy it, that’s 7,500 customers in the world! Years ago, it might have been almost impossible to find them, but it’s a lot easier today. (And of course, there are more than one customer in a million….)

Now, almost 25 years later, I, too, often succumb to self-doubt and despair. And yet….

I still remember that day I met my husband at the door, telling him I realized, “I have to be an artist, or I’ll die. I don’t even care if I’m not a GOOD artist.  I just have to do it.” That was the day I released every emotional shackle I’d placed on myself.

I still need to remember that. Every. Single. Day.

That same weekend we went to see “Glass”, it grossed over $47,000,000 and was the top movie at the box office. (And I’m glad we were a tiny part of that validation!)

The last thing (OK, there were three things….!) is Shymalan’s answer to whether he’d ever direct a “Star Wars” film.

His answer: He believes it’s best to stick with what works for him. “There are filmmakers who don’t fit easily into a system, and probably I’m one of those.”

He could make a Star Wars movie that would gross even more, and establish his “comeback” forever.

But he will stick with what he does best, and what he loves: Making original movies, making thrillers. And he will be happy.

The next time someone disses your medium, your choice of subjects, your plein air work vs. your studio work, how much (or how little) time you take to do your work, whatever… remember these three things:

Different can be good.

The work of your heart is the work only you can bring into the world.

Respect your process.

 Be all you can be. Rejoice that you can be an artist in the world today, with few restrictions, except for the ones you take on yourself.

As the beloved poet Mary Oliver said in her beautiful poem “The Summer Day”;

Tell me, what is it you plan to do 

With your one wild and precious life?

Exploring Galleries & Museum Stores in Bay Area!

Reaching out to folks familiar with my work, who are also familiar with the Bay area: San Francisco, East Bay.

I’m exploring a very few galleries to approach with my work.

Do you have any recommendations? Gallery/location/reason(s) why it might work, website link if you have it, or I can look that up!

Some samples in photo album, just for reference, OR check out my Etsy shop for examples:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/LuannUdell

I don’t automatically fit in “fine art”, “contemporary fine craft”, and price often doesn’t mesh with places dealing with lower-priced work. Some museum shops might work. Some galleries/museum stores won’t want work that isn’t made by actual indigegnous/First Nation people. Some might, I just don’t want to “compete” with their work & interfere with their income.
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE FOUR QUESTIONS #3: The Power of Affirmations

Today’s column from my lastest series on creating your own artist support group.

Enjoy! (Click here if you’d like to see this at the Fine Art Views website and read the comments: THE FOUR QUESTIONS #3: The Power of Affirmations )

You get to choose who you are in the world.

 (5 minute read)

Here are my experiences with affirmations, a complicated and simple concept.

An affirmation is a positive assertion. It is also a powerful tool for change.

Affirmations can be part of your support group agenda, done as a group exercise. But it’s just as powerful as an individual, daily exercise.

Affirmations became a powerful topic in that first workshop with Deborah Kruger. We were on our second day, and boy were we a needy group! As Deborah encouraged us to be the artist we’d always dreamed of being, we all pushed back with disclaimers. All that encouragement to recognize our strengths and talents? Hah! It was easy for her to say… She was talented, strong, and smart. We were little groveling wriggle-worms, looking for some proof we could have what we craved so badly. (As I’ve said, my fairly-recent commitment to my art empowered me. But I recognized the same feelings of self-doubt shared by my group-mates.

About the eleventh time someone voiced that pushback, Deborah put down her notes, and looked at us thoughtfully.

“I don’t usually do this in group training”, she said. “But I think I need to share a bit of my own personal journey with you today. I want you to really understand where I started, how far I’ve come, and how I got here.”

I will not share the personal experience she shared with us. It’s not my story to tell.

Suffice to say that we were shocked and appalled. And her story gave even more power to this insight, this tool for self-growth she shared with us:

Yup. Affirmations.

Every sentence of inferiority, self-doubt, insecurity, invisibility, had to be replaced with a sentence, of strength, courage, confidence, compassion, and ownership.

And it was going to take time, and repetition, and practice.

“I believe,” she said quietly, “That when we are told we are worthless, when we are told we are nothing, when we believe ourselves to be invisible, when we are told that a million times, we need to tell ourselves the opposite, a million-and-one times.” 

She said, “We have to offset the cruelty and ignorance, and fill ourselves with something new, something better, something kinder, and something empowering.”

Just as there is the 10,000 hours thing about the amount of time and effort that goes into becoming skilled at something, this is the “plus one” thing about overcoming “truths” that hold us back.

A beloved professor shared with me his favorite go-to affirmation: IALAC.

“I am lovable and capable.”

After Deborah’s powerful, personal story of self-healing and growth, I created my very first affirmation, based on how uncomfortable I still felt saying this simple statement:

I am an artist. 

And so I followed her advice.

I wrote this sentence hundreds of times. Thousands. Sometimes I filled three pages a day, writing it over and over again.

It worked.

I still remember the feeling of amazement that day when someone asked me what I did. With no hesitation, I replied, “I’m an artist.” Boom.

I’ve created many more affirmations over the years. “I have a story to tell.” “I have the power of my choices.” “I am worthy of love and respect.” “I am a successful artist.” “I am a writer.” “I have a place in the world. My art has a place in the world.”

When I took this workshop, I wasn’t even making Lascaux-inspired art! I made tiny dolls and hand-knitt sheep, handmade polymer buttons (!foreshadowing!), and small doll quilts. And yet I was ready to hear all the wisdom being shared with me.

I don’t write about how much money I could make, or how famous I could be. That isn’t the measure of my success as an artist anymore. (Don’t get me wrong, I love selling my work!) And if that’s your goal, use it!

For me, when I hear that someone’s heart has been lifted, or healed, or strengthened by something I’ve written, when someone tells me my work creates wonder and mystery for them, when I realize I may have helped someone through a hard place, or encouraged them to tell their story, that means success to me. 

Take a few moments today, and think about that whiny voice you hear whenever you are discouraged, or lost, or unhappy with your art.

Your homework for next week (or hey, share below!) is to think about the biggest doubt you have right now about your work, your creative work, your place in this world. (I can’t tell you how many people say they are too embarrassed to call themselves an artist! “Oh sweetie, do tell!” I exclaim.)

Take that thought, the one that snuck into your heart all those years ago, and look at it.

Then transform it into a simple statement of power, and truth. Something that means something important to you.

Think this is a silly premise? Read my blog post about how a graduate education student framed her historic problem with multiplication tables.

So let’s get to work! Grab a composition book from the dollar store, and your favorite pen or pencil, and write it down a thousand times. (Er…. you don’t have to do it in one sitting.)

Simple rules: An affirmation is grounded in the present. Not “Someday I’ll….” Instead, “I am….” An affirmation is the truth YOU need to carry in your heart. Not what someone else says is your truth. An affirmation is not about “trying” (to be better, kinder, smarter, etc.) An affirmation is learning to believe, realizing, you already are.

If you struggle with even this simple task, hold that thought. You are on your way to finding a supportive group of fellow life travelers who may have some helpful ideas!

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Editor’s Note: 

When you’re ready to take a fresh approach to marketing your art, a professional and secure website can be your most valuable tool. And FASO is the easiest way to build (even for non-techies) and maintain a gorgeous website, we also include amazing marketing tools that automate many common marketing tasks for you. To sign up for a free, no obligation 30 day trial, click here.

Related Posts

The Story You Tell and the Power of Your Tribe

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.

 A month ago, my husband was cycling on a bike path, when he ran over a stick. It jammed in his derailleur and broke it. Fortunately, I was a phone call away and retrieved him (and the bike) quickly.
Yesterday, the exact same thing happened AGAIN. (He swears it was the same damn stick, but I don’t believe that.) Unfortunately, I am thousands of miles away, in Keene, NH. And he had to walk home, in his bike shoes.

Life has a lot of sticks just waiting to jam up our derailleur…er, life. And in the last month, we’ve run over a lot of them.

The already sky-high rent on our home here in Santa Rosa, CA was raised, eating up almost half our income. We now have two large dogs and three cats. The rental market here is as tight as it is expensive, and it will be impossible to find a landlord willing to rent to us. As former home-owners for 27 years, it’s embarrassing to find ourselves here. (We did find a place, a much smaller place. As soon as I get back to California, we have to pack up and move.  My art will be on hold for awhile. Again. But bookmark this, I’ll return to it later.)

My husband’s employer’s company has 3-4 months of funding left, and there will be no more in the pipeline. All sources have been exhausted. The tech industry does not readily employ people in their 60’s.  Jon’s best option is to strike out on his own. But this is an expensive place for our second reboot in three years, and it’s a little scary.

My art sales have slumped. (This is not unique to me, I know, and not entirely of my making, but there you go.)

One of our children is struggling here in Keene. It sounded urgent enough for me to book a flight out here, to see what I can do. It is cold here. Really, really cold. Like 10 degrees when I woke up, and more snow, with winds gusting to shove that snow right up my nose.

My daughter just announced she’s getting married this summer, in the middle of Tennessee (best spot for the solar eclipse).

And that wonderful shared studio space at that incredible artist enclave has disappeared. My friend and I have extremely different visions for how the space should work. To preserve the friendship, I told her I needed to step away. But it all blew up in my face. My friend is deeply hurt by my decision. With all the other setbacks on my plate, I can’t afford the oxygen to fix this, even if that were possible.

That’s one story.

But here is the other side of the story I chose to tell.

My old tribe here in Keene is holding me together in so many ways. They know who I am, they know what to do.

These trusted friends will hold my tender heart, and my huge artistic vision, in their gentle, loving hands, until I can take them up again.

Let’s go way back, to the beginning of my art career. I took a workshop from wise woman Deborah Kruger, on creating an artist support group.

The premise was, “Women can do it all. But not necessarily all at the same time.”

When life throws big effin’ sticks in our path—sickness, death, divorce, job loss, a big move—there is only so much we can handle. Sometimes the first thing that gets put on hold is the very thing that nourishes our heart and lightens our soul: Our art.

Good friends will hold that vision of you: Your goals, your process, your abilities, your path. When you are ready (even if you think you’re not), they will gently remind you who you are. And help restore you to yourself.

Now let’s look at the other story I choose to tell:

Gift #1 Though we have not built that precious network of friends here in CA, it’s in process. And a friendship of 20 years led to our next home. It will only be available to us for a few years. But that will give us the space to figure out where we go from here. They know we have pets, too. Yay!

Gift #2 The painfully broken friendship gave me clarity on a better way to be there for my child. I will not force him to take care of me during this difficult time, no matter how hard it is to listen sometimes. I need only be present, for now. If that hadn’t happened two days before I left, I would have blundered on as I have done in the past. It was a lesson that arrived just in time to be a better mother.

Gift #3 As I make time to meet up with these good friends, each one has an insight for me. I hear the exact words I need to make it through the day. As I bemoaned the fact that I’d fallen into another situation I should have recognized—again—a friend exclaimed, “I just LOVE my life lessons! I love them so much, I learn them all over again. And again. And again!” I laughed for the first time in days.

Gift #4 As I share such wonderful insights with the next friend I meet up with, it’s just what they need to hear, too!

Gift #5 We have already realized the rewards of our life reboot. Jon’s got his game back, reconnecting with old allies, and finding new ones. The work he’s doing is the work of his heart—collaborating with users to create the tools they need to make their own work easier. The projects are timely, extremely relevant, and deeply-rooted in bettering our culture.

As we consider our next steps–as our reboot is rebooting–Jon and I realize it will be easier this time. For example, we are only moving across town, and we can break it down into small loads. And the new neighborhood will have all the features we treasure in this one.

Gift #6 My art will go on hold again, though hopefully not for long. OTOH, if we should have to leave Sonoma County down the road, I’ll only have to walk away from a few years of audience-building here. Not three decades, like our first move!

Gift #7 My Keene tribe is still here!

Gift #8 I’m passing on the gifts! When I was living in Keene, I never thought of connecting my tribe members! (I know, I know—“DOH!!”) Two of my meet-ups organically overlapped yesterday, and two friends met each other for the first time. The synergy was astonishing. One had the exact information the other needed to take a step forward in a new career. The other recognized not only a new, rich resource in the first friend, but an ally. Both were validated anew to themselves as they recognized the same qualities in each other: Passion, integrity, professionalism, creativity, emotional maturity, and a wicked sense of humor.

I’m now working on getting all of these core people together, if not on this trip (though we’re trying!) then the next. In between, there’s Skype and Google Hangout. We’ll figure it out.

#9 And now I’ve shared this gift with you, faithful readers.

I’ve shared how sometimes, the seeds of a new beginning are buried in the deep past, and sometimes, even in the most recent hardship. The way to your next step is not carefully hidden in the great universe; it is often right under your nose. The words you need to hear are already sitting in the heart of someone who may cross your path—today.

And when the world feels like a hard and hopeless place, there may be someone standing next to you who will offer exactly what you need to get through it. Holding your dream, your beautiful vulnerable open heart, tenderly and lovingly, until you are ready to pick them up again.

Your bonus gift for subscribing today! Here are some of the wonderful words I’ve heard, in addition to the ones I’ve already shared. There will be more!

“Breath until you’re surprised.” This came up in a conversation about an ancient breathing/meditative practice that helps people heal from trauma, grief, and abuse faster. I sense there’s something deliciously deeper here that will reveal itself in time. It’s still sitting with me, and I love it.

“It’s only blood.” In a discussion about letting go of old family conflicts that may never be healed. If the family we’re born into is difficult, we can choose to create our own family.

“This ain’t your first rodeo. You don’t have to be the clown.” A discussion about me trying to make myself smaller so I can make insecure people feel better.

“You don’t have to go to every fight you’re invited to.” No explanation needed.

 “I sit with uncertainty everyday, until Clarity makes her presence known.” Every. Single. Day.

(If you’d like to see the published article and comments, go here.

AT THE FAIR: Muscle Memory

Sometimes we could–should–listen to our hearts instead of our bodies.

It’s been a long, wonderful week at this year’s League of NH Craftsmen’s Annual Fair up at Mt. Sunapee Resort in Newbury, NH. Busy! So busy the time seems to fly by. Lots of new faces, and familiar ones, tales of happiness and sorrow.

My heart is full when I come home, but my body is racked with pain.

Last night, I had a session with a chiropractor, who, like me, has a martial arts background. I mentioned I was thinking of returning to my practice. The hurdle is this: Usually I return to classes to get in shape. As I age, I should really be in better shape before I attempt to do that.

He said it was a wise choice. I’ve had a lot of injuries and another surgery in the last year, and things–alignment, balance–are out of whack. “If you return now, without letting your body heal, your muscle memory will kick in. Your body will try to do the things you used to do. But you can’t do them right now, and you’ll injure yourself trying.”

Aha! That’s why some of my ‘returns’ have been so short-lived!

That phrase–muscle memory–stuck in my mind, and helped me understand where some of my discomfort at the Fair comes from.

Most people think we artists and craftspeople are like a big family. Well, that’s more true than you know. When I first joined the ranks, I felt like I’d found my tribe, my true heart’s home. It was a shock to realize it really is like a big family. (I have personal experience–I’m the oldest of seven children.)

Some of us don’t speak to each other. Others come to us for support and comfort and inspiration constantly. Professional jealousy rears its ugly head constantly. And there are others who cheer us on with every step.

Set-up is the hardest. One minute you’re offering someone your precious stool, and the next you’re snarling at them to move their junk out of your booth space.

Sometimes too much has passed between you. Then there is no opportunity missed for a caustic remark to be made, even as you win an award. Some cannot even bring themselves to greet you as you pass on your many trips to the bathroom or Fair office (or the bar at the top of the hill.)

For these times, there is muscle memory: Your body, remembering the acts of unkindness, shrinks when you see them, and you cannot bring yourself to even pretend to be polite anymore.

But there is a way out.

Over the years, I’ve learned that, 99% of the time, someone who is causing you anguish, is carrying their own tight anguish inside their heart. In short–it’s not about you. It’s about THEM. You happen to be a convenient target.

And sometimes it’s us. We’ve done somebody wrong, and it’s time to admit that. Take responsibility for it, and say, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me. And if you can’t, I understand.”

Then try to live with the fact that we, too, are imperfect people.

I have done things I’ve had to ask forgiveness for. And sweet Jesus, I received it. I have others who have asked forgiveness from me, and I am overwhelmed by their humility–and courage. It takes real courage to apologize. I know. I’ve been there.

In the end, we have to trust the work of our hands, and the work of our hearts. We live in this tribe, in many tribes, actually. We live in this world.

I like to think if we could trust the muscle memory of of hearts and spirits, a little more than the muscle memory of our bodies, just a little….

Then maybe someday we could even have peace in the Middle East.

Okay, that last line is a family joke, and perhaps not even a very good one. (“I hat you” is also a long-standing family joke.)

But that’s what families are for–a place where we can work out our little dramas and big heartaches, and ultimately find a place where we can stand and say, “You’re a poop, but I love you, and yes, I forgive you. Seventy times seven.”

And cross our hearts and hope for the best.

May you be able to forgive, seventy times seven. And may you also be forgiven, at least ten times as much.

SELLING YOUR WORK: Far Afield? Or Close to Home?

There are pros and cons to being a ‘local artist’, and many artists opt to ‘get out of Denver’ as quickly as they can. But there are deep reasons to building a local audience first.

I got an email newsletter from artist and writer Robert Genn. I always enjoy his thoughts on making and selling art. He’s a good writer, and a thoughtful one.

Today (insert link here) he tells why he decided to skip a local market, and developed more distant venues to sell his paintings.

I felt the same way when I started out with my art. I feared that ancient ponies and bone awls would never find a hold in a traditional New England marketplace. I did a few local shows, just to prove to myself I needed to go further afield. And then I did just that.

But I’m here today to eat my words. (I do that a lot.) There are lots of good reasons to start local. And I’ll give you suggestions on how to make it work.

You’ll learn how to talk about your work.

“I hate talking about my work!” “I don’t know what to say.” “My work speaks for itself.” “I’m shy–I just can’t talk to people!” I’ve heard–and said–these words so many times. Let’s cut to the chase. Art rarely ‘sells itself’. Somebody has to talk about it. If it’s not you, then it has to be your gallery or sales rep.

And how are they going to know what to say about it unless you give them a clue? If a thousand artists paint a picture of a tree in a field, then how will someone decide yours is the one that goes home with them?

If you believe that artistically knowledgeable people can tell the difference between your tree and 99 others, or a thousand others, or 10,000, then you’re going to have to be the absolute best painter out there.

In reality, many collectors aren’t looking for ‘the best out there’. They want to believe the one they like best, is the best one.

And your job is to tell them why your painting is the best for them.

You can do it with credentialing–art school degrees, awards, honors, solo shows, etc. You can do it with publicity–press releases, getting your work published and exhibited, etc.

The easiest thing, of course, is to just tell them. You share your technique, your process, your story. Whatever works best to connect them to your work. (You know I vote for ‘story’, but if it feels safer to start with ‘process’, go for it.)

Of course, a gallery will do this for you. But who tells the gallery? Yup. Y-O-U. I got practice talking to my customers. By the time I talked to gallery owners, I was comfortable and confident.

You’ll discover what people love about your work.

I talked easily and readily about why I loved my work, once I got used to the notion. It’s when I shut up and listened that I found out why others loved it.

What other people say about your work is powerful. People overhearing someone else saying something wonderful, is even more powerful.

People saw things in my work that astonished me. As they told me how it affected them, what it meant to them, I became even more dedicated to making it. I realized I need to make it. And others need to see it.

That’s hard to do when your work–and your audience–is a thousand miles away.

And it’s powerful to be able to say to a prospective gallery, “This is what people say about my work….”

You’ll perfect your booth, your display, your signage, your entire presentation.

Let’s say you do get that perfect out-of-state show with the oh-so-sophisticated audience, or the super duper gallery with the big name artists roster. What will they say when they see your awkward framing? Your lack of support materials?

What do you do when your far from home and realize you’re missing a critical piece of your booth? It’s one thing to run home and grab it. It’s another to be looking for the nearest Home Depot at night, in a cab.

Doing local shows was an education. I learned the hard way how to streamline my set-up and breakdown (as much as I can with jewelry cases, table top AND wall displayed items!) I learned they hard way what was essential and what wasn’t. I learned through practice the best ways to display my work.

And then I did my first big out-of-state show. When I did, I hit the ground running. (Well. Running, yes. But there was still a lot I had to learn!)

You’ll generate enough money to keep going.

Getting into an out-of-state art exhibit was exhilarating. It forced me to get good images of my work, and to go looking for opportunity.

But it wasn’t great for sales.

It was a small but steady stream of local sales that kept me going. My local collectors supported me just enough for me to always take the next step. And that was really all I needed.

You’ll learn that you are responsible for your success.

Local market or farther afield, it still takes dedication and work to build your name as an artist. It’s easy to say, “Oh, no one around here appreciates good art” or “People here are too cheap to buy real art.”

I would have an easier time believing that, if I didn’t hear artists from around the world say this. All. THE. TIME.

We all like to blame others when our efforts don’t fly. I do! I want to blame everybody except myself.

I know we can’t control everything. I know we can’t command success. I know sometimes even the best efforts fail.

But we are responsible for doing the best we can.

As I learned how to do better–as I knew better–I did better, and I got better. My presentation improved. My ideas grew. My self-promotion got better. I learned how to believe in myself, and my art.

And I found it a lot easier to learn how to do that, with local venues and local customers.

The biggest reason I’m glad I started local?

When times got hard, I had a safety net.

When the recession hit, and the sales at big shows fell off, when galleries were closing left and right, my local audience saved my ass.

In all the years I’d bemoaned the lack of a ‘local audience’, my small band of collectors and supporters was actually growing quietly and steadily.

My open studios became more successful. My sales at state craft venues climbed–the League of NH Craftsmen’s Annual Fair; the League shops: the Sharon Arts Center. Each year, just as sales tapered off at one venue, another would leap ahead. (For various reasons, my work tends to ‘cycle’ in popularity. Instead of despairing when sales falter, I now know to sit tight and come back with new work in a year or two.)

I now feel honored and supported by my local community.

As I said in my article about local self-promotion, publicizing your successes goes a long way to building that local audience. But I’ve learned it’s well worth the effort.

With the ease of discovering new markets and venues on the Internet, I don’t feel any artist is limited anymore to a local market. But I wouldn’t discount them, either.

Put your eggs in both baskets, and see what happens.