Wrapping up

I am beginning the task of closing up my current studio in anticipation of an upcoming move next spring. It is with mixed feelings that I do so; this space has served me well over the past 11 years, as you can read from this earlier post. I will definitely look back on my time here with fond memories.

However, I am also feeling the need to move on to something new. We artists know the direct if sometimes subconscious effect that one's working space has on the artwork that's produced there. It's probably a good time in my career to shake things up. We'll see what the future holds!

In the meantime, I'm sorting through the flotsam and jetsam of more than a decade of a dedicated studio practice, trying to honestly evaluate what needs to be discarded and what needs to move along with me.

My studio in its heyday (shot in 2014)

Summer wrapup

It feels like summer is officially over (despite the summertime temperatures), as my fall semester classes at Framingham State University start today. But I have a productive summer in the studio to look back on with fond memories. Here's the last painting I completed, a few weeks ago, which takes the basic composition I have been exploring in my "Filigree" series into the realm of color.

As yet untitled, acrylic on canvas, 20" square

In career news, the summer season ambled along as it usually does, quiet and uneventful, then things wrapped up with a burst of opportunity toward the end of August: a painting sale and offers of two upcoming shows. Details to come, on this site!

Year in review

It's time for a look back at the rewards of 2014, before zooming forward into 2015! I've created and uploaded a video which pictures a selection of artworks I created during the past 12 months, as well as the year's exhibits and placements. All accompanied by my husband's music. Check it out!

 As always, thank you for your continued interest in my career. Happy New Year!

Friends through the years

This week I've been sorting through a series of notebooks documenting my art career, and this postcard was the oldest item in the oldest notebook: my very first exhibit! It was a two-person show with an artist who, almost 20 years later, is still a dear friend.

Painter Carol O'Malia and I met as first-year graduate students at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth's College of Visual and Performing Art in 1995. She is a very friendly and outgoing person, so I felt an instant sympatico during the first day of the graduate seminar class we were both taking, when she introduced herself and reached out to shake my hand.

During our second year of grad school, I invited Carol to join me for a two-person show at the university's student gallery, which was then located at 1213 Purchase Street in New Bedford. It was the first time I had ever displayed my artwork in public, and I was so glad she agreed to share the experience with me. Shown here is the postcard from our exhibit. (Hey, remember when the best deal in town was a pack of 500 postcards for $95 from Modern Postcard?! Times have sure changed ... )

Many years have passed since then, and over that time, Carol and I have kept in touch through each other's ups and downs, both personal and professional. She's one of those people who, no matter how much time goes by between meetings, you always feel like it's only been a few minutes rather than a few years when you see each other in person. Coincidentally, we now find ourselves to be teaching colleagues at Framingham State University. And last fall, we showed our work together for the second time, at the Framingham State gallery, nearly 20 years after our first show together at UMass Dartmouth!

Carol, old buddy, here's hoping for another 20 years of painting and friendship together!

Smiling for the camera

"Throwback Thursdays" have become a regular feature on Facebook, so I thought I'd enter a post on my blog in the same spirit. Below is a portrait of me at age 5, approximately, enacting a scene that has repeated itself many many times over the years: posing against a wall displaying my latest artworks!  These are crayon portraits of my mother, who was (and still is) the most beautiful subject in the world to me. This shot was taken by my grandfather after my grandmother, who was always a great supporter of my artistic aspirations (her father was an artist), had hung my drawings on the wall.

An aspiring artist in 1967

Fast forward 45 years! A few things have changed in that time; I've switched from crayons to acrylic paints, for one. But I'm still making art, and posing alongside it in order to preserve the moment. Here I am in 2012, with several of my artworks on display at a show I curated/participated in at Fountain Street Fine Art.

A professional artist 45 years later

So that's my entry for Throwback Thursday!

Au revoir, 2013 ... welcome in, 2014

Time for my annual look back at the gifts which the past year has offered me as an artist, and my look forward into the coming year.

2013 was a proud year for exhibition opportunities. From January 29 to March 2, I was honored that three Boston-area artists joined me for the show I curated at the Mount Ida College Art Gallery in Newton, MA, titled "Exponential: Four Artists Explore Infinity." They were Sand T Kalloch, Nancy Natale, and Jeanne Williamson. Video of exhibit

View of paintings from my "Tendrils" series at "Exponential" exhibit

I also had the chance to exhibit my new "Markings" series at "Actions/Reactions," a three-person show of studio-art adjunct faculty members at the Mazmanian Art Gallery at Framingham State University from September 3 to 27. My co-exhibitors were ceramic artist Caitlin Nesbit and oil painter Carol O'Malia. Video of exhibit

View of "Suspense" (left) and "Scrawl" (right) at "Actions/Reactions"

I was fortunate to have my work included in "Off the Wall," an annual national juried show at the Danforth Museum of Art in Framingham, MA. Also at the Danforth, in the Museum School's Round Room Gallery, I co-curated a "Small Works" group show with Robert Collins which ran from November 3 to December 15. I was honored that Laraine Armenti, David Baggarly, and Cheryl Clinton agreed to join Bob and me for this show, in addition to the other artists whom he invited.

My painting "Blue Circles 1" (pictured below) was selected as part of a decoration package by Hyatt Place Hotels, and has been displayed as prints during 2013 at more than 30 brand-new Hyatt Place locations across the U.S., including Atlanta, Austin, Orlando, Minneapolis, New Orleans, and New York City.

"Blue Spheres 1"

2013 was also a year of planning and scheming for the future. I've got lots in store for 2014, many opportunities which began as seedling ideas during 2013 and are now ripening, ready for fruition during the next 12 months. These include a new website to be rolled out soon, as well as an exhibition plan that focuses on solo displays of my latest collage series and the continuation of themed curated group shows that I have come to love doing on an annual basis. I'm looking forward to sharing these developments with you in upcoming posts on this blog!

As always, I wish readers of my blog a most Happy and Productive New Year, and thank you for your continued readership and support.

Happy New Year!

A season of stories

If you know me at all, you know that I am an avid reader. I visit the library at least once a week, and usually come staggering out the door with a swaying stack of books. My favorites to read are autobiographies. I never stop wondering what makes other people tick, and reading about them is the best way to find out without having to leave the comfort of my pillow-propped, blanket-wrapped spot on the living-room couch.

Despite a busy fall season of teaching, painting, and helping my family, I've managed to squeeze in a lot of reading, including autobiographies and biographies of/by (in no particular order): Rita Moreno, Hettie Jones, Joyce Johnson, Carolyn Cassady, Jack Kerouac, Edna O'Brien, Lyndon Johnson, Maria von Trapp, Pete Townshend, and Jim Henson.

My current selection is "Bad Boy," the autobiography of '80s art star Eric Fischl. I didn't become well-versed in contemporary art until the 1990s, so I wasn't entirely aware of Fishl's work when his career was at its height in the dazzling days when his paintings fetched a cool million dollars per canvas. But I remember reading with great interest a long article in Art In America about his latest series when I was in graduate school around 1996, and being excited by the "hiding in plain sight" nature of the narratives behind his imagery.

Now that I am a painter, I find much to admire in Fischl. In his book, he tells of his humble beginnings as an artist, first signing up for an introductory art class at a community college in Phoenix ("because, after all, who flunks art?") and eventually earning a degree from CalArts on a full merit scholarship. He reveals his attempts to focus on story-telling with his work even though it flew in the face of current art-world preferences for cool, enigmatic abstraction. Devastated by his mother's lifelong battle with alcoholism and finally her suicide, Fischl struggled in his studio for many years, both artistically and personally. He sought an honest, personal content and worked hard to overcome what he admits were his shaky technical skills. Then, with the advent of the '80s and the guiding hand of Mary Boone, his career skyrocketed.

I haven't yet gotten to the parts of the book in which Fischl tells of his excesses of partying, drugging, and other responses to being put on a pedestal. But no matter how much debauchery he describes, I am inspired by his ongoing determination to be truthful in his paintings, to make his art an experience for the viewer. He was constantly pushing himself, even as an undergraduate, to make progress and dig deeper. We can all take inspiration from that.

Picture This

I first discovered the wisdom of Shakti Gawain's New Age classic "Creative Visualization" in the 1980s, when I was a full-time secretary with a high school diploma, struggling to pay the rent but secretly wishing I could do something creative with my life. Her ideas helped me transform my "oh, whatever" existence into exactly what I wanted it to be.

My favorite of the techniques described in her book was "treasure mapping," in which you combine a group of images depicting exactly the experiences you desire and view your collage or "treasure map" regularly. Back when I was seated in my cubicle, typing letters and fielding incoming calls, I truly wanted to teach art at a college. I had no teaching experience or even a degree in art, but that's what I wanted. Inspired by Shakti's book, I found a wonderful photo of a teacher in her classroom with a group of 20-year-old students gathered around her. I still remember it vividly, the way they were all smiling into the camera. I taped a photo of my face over the face of the teacher in the photograph, in the correct size so that it looked like her body was believably mine, and then taped it to the wall in my bedroom.

Well, the transformation from office drone to college instructor didn't happen overnight. But I did eventually create a successful and rewarding career as a teacher, and you can bet that keeping that photograph of what I wanted where I could regularly see it helped to direct me along my path.

I thought of the treasure-mapping technique again this morning, and decided to revisit it in order to manifest the perfect exhibition space for my latest series, which is coming to completion.

I'm blogging about this in case other artists might also find this to be an effective way to bring about desired results for exhibiting their work. Here's what I've done: type the words "empty art gallery" into Google images and look over all of the different kinds of exhibition spaces that come up. Seeing the vast possible varieties will help you define exactly what you desire in an ideal environment for your particular body of work. What size do you prefer for the space? Do you want long open walls for large expansive pieces, or do you want small intimate nooks for smaller and more detailed works? Do you want one room or several connecting rooms? Natural light from a skylight, or directed lighting from spotlights? Et cetera.

Then print out one or two pictures of spaces that appeal to you and create your treasure map. You can also collage images of your artwork into the picture, simulating the final appearance of your ideal exhibit. If you display the treasure map on a wall in your home or studio where you will see it on a regular basis, you will manifest exactly the experience that you have pictured.

This will happen in both practical and mysterious ways. For example, you might be offered an exhibition opportunity that, you realize upon reflection, isn't quite right for your work. So you decline and wait for the right opportunity to come along, thus saving yourself and the others involved time and trouble. This realization is the direct result of having considered and created the treasure map, because that activity brought you clarity of mind. But the map will also work for you in undefinable ways, when somehow the "inner knowing" part of yourself draws the perfect experiences into your life.

Of course this doesn't mean that you don't do the "real stuff" in addition to visualizing. You must develop a strong body of work, get the word out about yourself as an artist, view a range of artworks by other artists for ideas and inspiration, etc. But the treasure map gives you that extra little EDGE that ensures you're headed on the path you really want to take.

And best of all, the practice of envisioning the perfect future is just plain FUN.

Painting within my means

"Wing," spray-paint on canvas, 2001

Last June, I hit the half-century mark! It proved to be a fine opportunity to look back over the past 50 years and be thankful for my good fortune.

But one of the things I realized when I examined my life was the far less heart-warming fact that I had amassed more than $9,000 in debt on a charge card. I had nearly maxed out the card about five years prior and had managed to pay my balance down to 0. But like the dieter who hasn’t learned how to revise her eating patterns and regains the lost weight, I had savored the joys of freedom from debt for only a few months before I began repeating my old spending habits and found myself in the red again. Turning 50 woke me up. I realized I had better look carefully at my finances and figure out how to climb out of the hole I was in. PERMANENTLY.

One thing that was soon apparent was that I was spending far more money than I had to spare on my art career, both in the studio and in promoting my work. It wasn’t that I was going insane over art expenses, but I was definitely going beyond my means. I began to examine ways to curb these expenditures using a balanced approach, so that I was continuing to paint and to promote my work, but in a sensible and effective way.

Here are some of the methods I’ve found to do this, which I thought I would share on my blog in the spirit that few of us working artists have trust funds and likely could use some tips on how to keep art-related spending under control, without giving up entirely.

1. MANAGE YOUR WEB PRESENCE YOURSELF. One thing I did was to create my own free website, which I can maintain myself. I never really could afford to have a professionally created and maintained website in the first place, but I didn’t want to admit that to myself. So back in 2006, I hired a wonderful web designer to custom-create a site for me and then kept hiring her to completely revamp every page whenever I had a new series ready (which, because I was so prolific, was every few months). So while my website looked awesome, I was paying out far more money than I had available.

Then about a month ago, I saw that my Facebook friend, artist Alison Wells, had created her own website on Weebly.com. I thought it looked fantastic, and I decided to create my own using the same site. Weebly’s tutorial video said that a person, group or company could make their own site in a few hours, but because I’m an artist and had lots of images to upload, mine took about 6 hours to create. But I had such a blast doing it that it seemed more like 6 minutes!

Now I am NO computer expert, by any means. But I’m quite proud of the way the site looks, and I love the fact that I can maintain it myself and make changes easily and immediately, at any time of day, free of charge.

Also, please note that many blog sites are free to create and maintain, such as blogspot and wordpress. Blogs, while seeming to decline in popularity these days, are still a viable way to increase exposure to your artwork.

2. FIND FREE (BUT IMPRESSIVE) VENUES FOR EXHIBITING YOUR ARTWORK. Back when I was in denial about money, I used to apply to exhibits constantly, shelling out $50+ each month for entry fees. This process resulted in some fine opportunities for me – most notably, exhibits at the Marin County Museum of Contemporary Art in Novato, CA, and the beautifully appointed Peninsula Fine Arts Center in Newport News, VA. But again, that didn’t mean that I had the income to cover my habit.

So I began to look for opportunities to show my work that were free to apply to and participate in. I searched and found a number of locations that were soliciting calls for curatorial proposals, and this process revealed a way for me to turn my love of art writing and looking at other people’s art into free opportunities to show my own work as well. Most of these curatorial openings could be applied to on line, thus eliminating not only entry fees but also the exorbitant cost of office supplies such as CDs and covers, mailing materials, printer ink, and postage. My most recent experience with this type of venue was a four-person show I curated at Mount Ida College in Newton, MA. The gallery director and her staff of student interns hung the entire show exactly to my specifications, and the college printed a full-color catalog and provided a lavish opening reception for this exhibit. Some galleries also provide honorariums for public talks or cover other related expenses for artists or curators. So not only do you save money, you can also earn some.

3. INCREASE YOUR TECHNICAL KNOWLEDGE. I used to grab my charge card and shop online heedlessly whenever I ran out of paint. And sad to say, my tastes ran toward Golden Paints, the most expensive brand out there. Their colors are breathtakingly beautiful, but cost more than $50 per bottle. I was spending upwards of $500 per month on art supplies, and my income simply could not support that.

In addition to being an artist, I am a painting instructor and, ironically, one of the things I teach my students is how to start with primary colors and mix the myriad of possible combinations themselves, rather than buying secondary colors (available from mixing primaries) or earth tones (available by mixing complements). When I looked over my budget, I realized that I should be taking my own advice. Now I buy basic paint colors in less expensive brands and mix my own colors. It’s a far less opulent approach than buying whatever I want from Golden’s luxurious range, but it’s far more affordable.

I also used to spend approximately $300 (gasp) every few months on rolls of cotton canvas from the art supply store. Again, too expensive for my budget. But I’ve found a $4.99-per-yard unbleached cotton from the local fabric store. Last time I went there to buy some, the store employee unrolled the bolt of fabric to cut a length for me and I noticed a continuous stain running length-wise down the cloth. She offered me 75% off, so I ended up paying less than $1 a yard. Since I'm just going to gesso over the surface, the stain will never show.

4. EDUCATE YOURSELF ABOUT MONEY. I have read countless money advice books (checked out of the library, of course) in the past year, mostly ones that were published or updated since the recession, since so much has changed since 2008. Most art career books don’t discuss budgeting or finances specifically, and most financial advice books are written for people who know exactly when/where their next paycheck is coming from (something artists often can’t say for sure). I have found these two to be the most helpful, as they include chapters geared specifically for "consultants" with irregular incomes (a.k.a. artists): “Seven Money Rules for Life: How to Take Control of Your Financial Future” by Mary Hunt and “The Debt-Free Spending Plan: An Amazingly Simple Way to Take Control of Your Finances Once and For All” by JoAnneh Nagler.

These are just a few of the many ways for a cash-strapped artist to keep painting while staying in the black.

Although I am still paying off my debt, it is now more than halfway gone, and I plan to continue paying it off while maintaining a serious art practice. Every last penny owed will be paid by December 1, according to my calculations. And when that day dawns, armed with the many new solutions and techniques I have learned, I am confident that I will never find myself in debt again.

EDITED TO ADD: As of November 7, my debt is completely paid off! :-)

Interview on PRO:FILES

My career is featured in the latest entry of PRO:FILES, a new website by Ron Fortier focused on the artistic community of Southcoast Massachusetts. Find out how my job as a cashier inspired my first painting, how a Dumpster led me to my first studio, and more! For details, click HERE.

A time for thanksgiving

The Thanksgiving season is the perfect time to examine our lives and give thanks for all the gifts we have had the good fortune to receive. This is why I think it's important to wait, at least until the sun goes down on Thanksgiving Day, to start "decking the halls" and diving in to the celebratory hoopla of the winter holiday season.

In taking quiet time for reflection and appreciation, we accept our humanity, acknowledge our humility, and encourage the blessings to continue to flow. Plus, it's just plain fun to feel the smile come over your face, and sense the warmth in your heart, that comes from recalling and reliving pleasant memories.

Last night I decided to make a list of the highlights of my art career. As I was compiling this list, I realized how many people have given to me generously during the 14 years I have been a professional artist. Their generosity is what has brought about all of the experiences on my list. (Out of respect for everyone's privacy, I haven't mentioned names here, but these folks know who they are, and I hope they know how grateful I am.)

These highlights include:

Three of my monotypes were purchased by the Boston Public Library in 2011. I am very grateful to the artist who was kind enough to give me the contact information for the curator there, and allow me to use her name as a personal reference when I contacted the curator.

Ten of my paintings were purchased by Berkshire Partners in the John Hancock Building, and ten paintings were purchased by the Four Seasons Hotel in Boston. I am very grateful to the artist who recommended me to the consultant who made these sales. I am also very grateful to the consultant herself, who has encouraged my work and made so many sales for me over the last five years that we've worked together.

Twice my artwork has been exhibited at U.S. Embassies - namely, those in Oman and Cameroon - through the Art In Embassies Program. I am very grateful to the friend who brought this program to my attention and recommended that I apply.

I am very grateful to the Boston gallerist who showed my work in two solo shows and two three-person shows at her gallery, and who recommended me for the St. Botolph Club Foundation grant, which I was awarded in 2002.

I am very grateful to the independent curators who have invited me to participate in their exhibits.

I am very grateful to the art critic who reviewed my work for the Boston Globe on four separate occasions.

I am very grateful for my many artist friends who have shared with me the good times and the tough times that we all experience in this crazy creative career. From artist friends whom I see on a regular basis, to those I've known since we were together in art school and first starting out, to artists I've only "met" on Facebook but whose commentary and support I enjoy and appreciate -- I have many good folks in my life.

And of course, my entire career wouldn't have been possible without the support of my beloved husband and parents.

This list reveals that I have a LOT of great experiences in my career, and they all happened because of the great people in my life. Here's to many more years, of many more highlights!

When rejection comes to town

I’ve written a number of blog entries about the subject of rejection, an issue that artists confront all the time.

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but I am coming to view rejection in a more circumspect way than ever before. True, it can hurt your feelings when you’re rejected. It’s only human to look at the folks who were accepted for an opportunity and think, “What have they got that I ain’t got?” (Other typical reactions include beating the table with your fist or digging a spoon deep into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.)

Last week I was rejected from an exhibition opportunity. Or rather, I experienced the newest version of rejection: “We only contact those who are accepted.” So on notification day, I clicked on my email inbox and heard the crickets chirp. I admit, in my fantasies, I was hoping the juror would take one look at the artwork I had entered, gasp with awe, clutch his throat, and instantly assign me the most visible wall in the gallery. But that didn’t happen.

Surprisingly, though, a realization presented itself to me as I stared at the “Your inbox is empty” message. It occurred to me that REJECTION IS AN OPPORTUNITY. It isn’t meant to hurt you. It is meant to serve as a roadmap for you to follow.

You see, I truly believe that every artist who is sincere about creating work that is an honest reflection of her experience, and who works with reasonable diligence to get this work out into the world, WILL find the right opportunities. The key is to find the RIGHT venues, based on your individual goals as an artist, and where your work fits in naturally and best.

So if you are making human-sized catnip mice out of felt as a statement about animal abuse, there is no sense in applying to show at the gallery inside the frame shop down the street. The frame shop owner might be a devoted cat-lover, and a sincere admirer of your work, but it doesn’t fit into his shop, literally or conceptually, and your application will be “rejected.”

If you are painting watercolors of the roses in your summer garden, there is no sense in applying to the stadium-sized avant-garde exhibition space in town. Not that your work isn’t wonderful -- there are many viewers who would be charmed by it – but your small studies would be lost in that giant space, and would not fit in with that particular gallery’s aesthetic.

I am starting to be truly honest with myself about where my work fits and where it doesn’t fit. And that doesn’t mean it’s bad or wrong for not fitting in to certain venues, it just means that it doesn’t fit, and it’s time to devote my energy to figuring out where it DOES fit. Because when it does fit, there is a beautiful synergy. The work complements the space; the space complements the work; and the administration, the audience, and the artist have a satisfying experience.

My job is to look at my work honestly, do my research thoroughly, and not get hung up on victim-oriented thoughts along the lines of, “He got in, why didn’t I? She shows there, why don’t I?” With these practical actions, and a little faith and luck thrown in, the key in your hand WILL open the right door.

ETA: A friend who also entered the juried show I referred to in this post told me that there were 1,200 entrants!

Wrapping up, moving on

I’m very pleased: the proposal for a four-person show that I submitted to a local non-profit exhibition space has been accepted, and we have been offered a slot this fall. It is a lovely space, and I know our work together there is going to look GREAT.

As this opportunity has come through, I am wrapping up a number of exhibit and grant applications that include my latest “Autumn” series, pictured in the last blog entry.

I’m completing the final steps: printing out the application letters and artist statements that I have worked so hard on, and printing out images of the paintings I have worked so hard on. It occurs to me now that the labor has been finished; now there’s only one more ingredient that’s needed in the process, and that’s for the decision-makers to like my work.

And that is the one thing that you can’t MAKE happen. You can paint the best paintings you know how (in my opinion, this means the most honestly reflective of your experience and what you mean to say). You can have the work photographed as well as possible. You can write about the work as succinctly as possible. You can follow the application guidelines as carefully as possible. But at some point, you have to let your efforts go, send them out into the world, and allow the process to continue in someone else’s hands.

It’s a relief, in a way, to know that you’ve done all you can, and the rest is up to … whatever you want to call it: God, Fate, or good old-fashioned Luck.

We’ll have to wait and see! As for now I’ll be turning my attention to the new blank canvases waiting for me in the studio. I have a summer full of painting planned, and I’m very excited about that too.

Only when I laugh

Just now I decided that it might be an interesting exercise to make a list of the exhibits I’d been in over the course of my career so far, divide them into the shows that were rewarding experiences and those that weren’t rewarding, and write down why. I thought this might help guide me in choosing where to focus my attention in future endeavors.

This did turn out to be a productive lesson, but it also brought up memories of a few REALLY BIZARRE exhibition experiences, which were so ridiculous that I had never bothered to list them on my resume and frankly had forgotten about them.

But they are funny in retrospect, the kind of “learning experiences” that all artists have when we’re starting out, so I thought I’d mention a few of them on this blog. I’m sure those of you who are reading this have been through similar things. Maybe you’ll get a laugh out of hearing about mine and remembering yours.

One was a “members show” at a Rhode Island art museum. I had attended the opening of a juried show that a friend of mine had gotten into there a few years before, and I had marveled at the opulent mansion that was its location. So when I read that they were having a members show there, I decided to become a member and enter.

As I drove down to attend the opening, I was looking forward to seeing my work in such a beautiful space. Imagine my horror when I found that, not only was my work the only abstract piece in the entire show (the rest of the work was of the lighthouse and Adirondack chair variety), but it was hanging in a dark hallway outside the bathroom! In other words, the museum couldn’t reject the work outright since I had paid for my membership, but they could hide it as far out of sight as possible.

It was then I realized that the earlier show that my friend’s work had been in was juried by a guest judge, whose taste hadn’t reflected the museum’s. I should have been offended, I guess, but frankly, I couldn’t stop laughing! It was an extreme case of “apples and oranges.”

Another wince-inducing experience was when I entered another members show at another lovely museum. Their policy was that, if you entered this group show as a member, you would be considered for their annual “8 Visions” exhibit. I got all charged up, figuring, wouldn’t it be GREAT to get into THAT show? I got so charged up, in fact, that I didn’t bother to do any mathematical calculating when I read over the prospectus; I just brought my painting to the museum office and produced my checkbook.

By the time the smoke cleared, I had spent SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS to become a member and exhibit one painting in their show. And my “vision” was subsequently NOT selected, so my enthusiasm had ended up costing me a big chunk of change for the privilege of sticking one painting in a huge group show. But there was a silver lining: I learned my lesson, and never made this type of mistake again.

Being an artist isn’t all about the ivory tower lifestyle. It’s a wild and weird world out there! But there are a lot of amusing lessons to be learned, which will make excellent anecdotes when we all eventually write our memoirs!!

Above, a photo of the work that cost me $75 to exhibit! (“Silken Web 3,” Acrylic on fabric on canvas, 30” square)

Who was I, who am I, who will I be?

I'm going through old art-career-related photos, and came across these promotional portraits that my husband took of me in 2003. I remember he kept exhorting me to smile during this photo session, but I wanted to seem like a serious (literally) artist.

I'm a month away from turning 49, which means that half-century mark is only a year away, and it seems like the right time to re-examine who I am, both in my mind during quiet moments of contemplation, and in the literal world, by going through physical evidence of who I have been. Hence, my recent photograph and paperwork sorting. I figure that this process will help me figure out where I am now, and where I want to go next.

It's so interesting to me to look back at this 8-year-old old photo and remember the circumstances of my life at that time. I had just moved to a new town, 70 miles from my previous residence of 9 years. I had just left my newspaper editing job of the previous 4 years and had embarked on a new career as a teacher. This photo was taken in the new studio I had just moved into. I was represented by a prestigious gallery in Boston, and was anticipating my second solo show with them in the upcoming months. I felt happy and hopeful. And it was right that I did, because many wonderful things were about to happen to me.

Could that really have been 8 years ago?! It seems like only yesterday, and yet so much has happened in my life, it seems like several decades. The years of my 40s have been rewarding learning experiences. I have far more self-confidence. My ability to communicate, to observe, to understand, to be patient, to be humble, all have grown. I am the best artist and teacher I have ever been. I have found my footing in the world.

So what does the future hold in store? That's what excites me, that I can now take all this additional knowledge and understanding, and carry it forward into new experiences.

Don't give it away!

We've all been through this as artists. Someone asks you to speak to their group, review their show, critique their work, etc. And they don't mention payment in their request.

Maybe they honestly mean to pay you, and they just haven't included the topic in the initial conversation. Maybe they are cheap and hope they won't have to pay you at all. Maybe they are ignorant and think artists perform these types of services gratis. How do you politely handle this situation without 1. giving up what might good opportunity over a misunderstanding, 2. agreeing to something and finding yourself scrambling over the subject of money afterward, or 3. losing your temper and yelling, "You ignorant slob!"?

My friend Wendy offers this ideal solution.

Reply politely that you will get back to them on it as soon as possible. Then contact them with a professional and upbeat email message, listing your hourly rate and saying that it would be a pleasure to work with them.

If they decline in their response or don't respond at all, you will know that they were not willing to hire you at these rates, and so you have saved everyone time and trouble and perhaps even educated them that artists are professionals and deserve to be paid as such.

But perhaps they will agree to pay what you ask, which will give you the pleasure of being paid fairly for what you do best.

From making illustrations for no payment when I was fresh out of design school, to being asked to speak to a college class for free, to being asked to write a review for free, to spending more than a year insisting on being paid an honorarium that I had been promised ... I've definitely seen what NOT to do, so I very much appreciate Wendy's solution.

Back in gear

There are a number of hopeful signs that my art career has resumed its forward motion: a couple of consultants have clients interested in my work, so I'll be doing some dropping off next week. I'm also taking 5 pieces from my recent silver series to the photographer's next week (here they are, all lined up and ready to hit the road, below):

My little pretties

I am not generally one of those artists who finds it hard to part with a painting once it's sold. I feel as though my experience with the painting happens while I'm in the process of making it. Once it's finished, the relationship is finished. I'm just as glad to part with it and move on to the next visual experience. (And I am certainly glad of the income because then I can buy more art supplies.)

That said, however, there are some paintings that I love so much that I would never part with them. Looking at them as a group, I'm not sure exactly why I want to keep these particular works, while the other perfectly nice paintings could go at any time as far as I'm concerned. Somehow, I said what I wanted to say with them, thoroughly, and I feel satisfied with them as finished products, as representative of what I am about as an artist and a person.

Do you have trouble parting with your paintings? Aside from the conventional wisdom that an artist should hold onto a certain number of her best works, are there some that you would keep just because you love them, no matter how much someone offered to pay for them? Do you know WHY you love those particular paintings over others, or is it some unidentifiable quality about them that you love?

Below: "Web," Acrylic and spray paint on fabric on canvas, 28" square, 2003.




Below: "Weave," Acrylic and spray paint on fabric on canvas, 20" square, 2003.




Below: "Seaweed," Acrylic on fabric on canvas, 20" H x 28" W, 2008.




Below: "Wet Web," Acrylic on canvas, 10" H x 8" W, 2008.




Below: "Niche," Acrylic on fabric on canvas, 60" H x 38" W, 1997.

Budget strategies at tax time

Just now I went through the annual process of itemizing my art-related deductions in preparation for sending tax materials off to the accountant.

I usually do this in haste in April, and because I’m rushing against a deadline, I don’t have time to really pay attention to what that pile of receipts is trying to tell me. But this year, as I’m a little earlier than usual, I had more time to think about each expenditure as I entered it onto my list.

Here are some of my conclusions:

The advent of digital has certainly meant good things for my wallet. I used to spend almost $500 a year in postage, mailing packets to apply for grant and exhibition opportunities. Between my digital camera, my computer and various types of software, I can send jpgs on line, in a flash, for free. It’s a whole new world! (And I’m not even talking about all the money that had to be laid out for film and developing, folders and envelopes, gas and time to drive to the post office, hours spent sticking labels on slides, etc.) ETA: Check out painter Kathy Hodge's blog post on this topic, if you want to appreciate how much improved things are!

My $30 investment last year of Flick!, an art inventory software, was worth every penny. SO much easier to keep track of what I have, SO much faster to update this information.

Remember to save ALL receipts. Sometimes I go to a general store like K-Mart to buy toiletries or household stuff, but I also buy art-related items like tape, brushes or rolls of plastic.

I’m very good at writing down mileage, as my friend Jeanne gave me the idea of keeping a notebook in my car, specifically for this purpose. That way, every time you start your engine, you remember to consider if anything on your upcoming route is art-related so you can quickly jot it down.

Here are some ideas I’ve decided on to help save myself money in the future (i.e. starting NOW), after going through all of my receipts:

Stop entering juried shows. I make this resolution on an annual basis, but I always fall for at least one show a year. This year I only succumbed to the urge once, but that meant a $30 application fee. I could have bought a gallon of gel medium with that $30! My new motto is: “If there’s a fee, it’s not for me.” I’m perfectly happy to split the profits 50/50 with a gallerist or consultant, but I will not pay to have my work considered for exhibition. At this stage in my career, it’s not necessary, as I already have a strong resume built up.

Cancel magazine subscriptions. I let Art News go a few years ago, and Art In America more recently once I realized they had stopped their annual Gallery Guide issue. Just now I let Art New England run out. I believe I can find all this information on line or at the library, which obviously is free, certainly better than spending $30 a year for a subscription.

Update blogs rather than website. In the past, I’ve gotten so excited whenever I have a new series ready (every three months or so) that I rush to get it on my website. And when I think of my website, it’s like having a room redecorated. I don’t just want to add a few new things, I want to redo everything!! But I need to start economizing and update my website once a year. My wonderful web mistress has kindly put links on my website to my Flickr account, this blog, and my career blog. As these are three sites I can update myself for free, it’s not like my online profile won’t stay up to date.

Bring snacks from home rather than eat out. I’ve noticed that, in the last year, whenever I run an art-related errand like drop off artwork, I’ll stop to eat out on the way home. If I have someone along with me to help, I buy a meal for them as well. This can add up, especially since I can only deduct 50% of the cost of the meal(s). I think I’ll start planning ahead and bringing a snack (like bottled water and a granola bar, especially if it’s just for me).

These are just a few possibilities to help me economize. In fact, I was so inspired by these realizations that, instead of going to the grocery store this morning as I had planned, I whipped up a casserole from some rice and lentils I already had at home … my thrifty New England ancestors would be proud of me!!

A fallow time, a freeing time

I decided to devote my life to art in 1994, and everything I have done since then, including earning a bachelor's degree and a master's degree, taking on "day jobs" as a teacher, and pinching pennies so that I can continue to buy expensive art supplies, has been in support of my studio work as a painter.

I've had continuous exhibits and sales over the years, some of them quite prestigious and lucrative. This has been partly through good luck, but mostly due to my diligence, bordering on obsession, in developing my career. For nearly 15 years, I have always maintained a fat "pending" file, filled with applications sent, leads to follow, and ideas for possible avenues for the future. I would spend hours and hours each week combing lists of calls for entry, or researching national museums and galleries. I left no stone unturned, as the saying goes.

As 2011 unfolds, for the first time since I finished grad school in 1997, I find myself with NO commitments as an artist. I do not have any gallery affiliations. I do not have any exhibits scheduled for the future. And I do not have any leads as to what to do next.

This state of things should be upsetting to an artist who has worked as long and as hard at exhibiting and marketing her artwork as I have. And yet ...

Somehow it feels freeing! I can, and have been, making whatever the heck I feel like making in my studio, ranging from paintings with thick layers of bright orange acrylic to paintings of silver spray paint. Lately I find I can relax and enjoy the art exhibits I see, rather than spend my visit scheming as to whether I should apply to this gallery or that show, the way I used to.

Maybe I'm getting older, feeling more self-assured and less restless. Maybe I've had enough experience to give me faith that eventually things will pick up again and fresh opportunities will present themselves. But for now, I am content to just enjoy being an artist, continuing to make paintings that I love. And that is enough!