Martha's Blog

wearing many hats

Wearing many hats!

I realized yesterday that in the course of that one day I was doing at least 12 duties in my "job" of being an artist.  Here is a partial list of the various tasks I attended to yesterday: framed some artwork, created labels for that artwork and attached them, tore paper and prepped it, applied for a direct purchase call, started writing an artist statement, updated my resume, re-wrote my bio, made medium, emailed my rep for more information, emailed some artists that are in a show I am curating (July 2016 in Port Townsend at Northwind Art Center), did some prep work for a class I will be teaching and organized some photo files of my artwork on my computer.  

cb001b5806246f22170d7077226d5fb2.jpg

You have probably noticed that not one of those things I did was actually making art.  I was reminded yesterday that much of my "job" of being an artist does not involve making art.  There are so many other aspects, very important aspects, that need regular attention.  Most days are not like yesterday, where I was wearing so many different hats, but I find I have become a list maker and a list checker, and that I must put all deadlines and schedules in my desk calendar in order to make sure they get done.  I also have a studio calendar where I note show deadlines and mark off dates I will be out of town so I can keep track of how much time I have left for certain tasks.  I mark off the days as they pass, so I can make sure I am leaving enough time for the very important task of making art.  

Do you find yourself being a jill (or jack) of all trades?  How do you keep track of your work deadlines?  Is this something you enjoy or resent?  How do you manage to be a working artist in a practical sense?

seducing the muse

A wonderful teacher of mine once described his weekly studio time as a date with his muse.  He said she expected him to show up when he said he would be there, and if he failed to she would get mad and sullen and not very cooperative.  If he did that often enough she would leave him for weeks on end.  Then when he would be in the studio alone, bereft of ideas or inspiration.

So here is what he proposed: commit to studio time, be it two hours a week or 6 hours a day on weekends or daily for 8 hours, or whatever you can and want to set aside for your work.  And if life gets in the way, a doctors appointment, or lunch with an old friend, or a chance to take a hike you have been dying to take, then make sure you make a deal with your muse.  Say, "I can't be here today, but I promise I will make the time up to you this weekend, or work extra hours next week."  And then stick to that promise.  Remember: a date with your muse is really a commitment to yourself.  

Do you have "tricks" to get you into the studio and working on a regular basis?  Have you made a commitment to yourself to show up, even when inspiration is lacking?  Sometimes do you start out slow and then warm up later in the day?  Do you have techniques for getting yourself inspired?

e5b7ef7a4d6c6554732dc92bdb23f374.JPG

looking back

In my studio this week I have been playing with some things that I still have left from my MFA days.  I kept some remnants of projects from those days as there was still something resonant in them for me, and I just couldn't let go (okay, I am a little bit of a studio pack rat).  Between working on some new paintings I revisited them, and am thinking of making a new piece from the parts I have left.  Here is one version I am considering:

b8d00ca6089ee1a61c4b24c58c455bc9.jpg

These are ceramic "pears" I created and fired in a pit over 20 years ago, along with some old wooden foundry patterns that were used to make a dam in Oregon.  Here is another version:

037923d3bb05b0d80fa8b551a8d08f14.jpg

So what is it that I am responding to in these?  I like the shapes and colors against the dark background.  I like the repetition with variation.  In my paintings lately I have been using more dark colors, contrasting the bright colors I usually work with against a dark area painted with browns and deep blues and reds.  The colors really pop when a dark is introduced.  I am also incorporating more definitive shapes in my paintings.  Perhaps this is why the shape of the "pears" is so appealing to me right now.

When I am done with this piece (if I decide to make it) what will I do with it?  Probably live with it, enjoy the playfulness of it, the contrast of it, the memories it contains.  I will make it for myself only.  This is part of being a creative person I think, allowing your ideas to stretch in all directions, forward and backward.  Letting the muse take you where she wants to go.

Do you allow yourself to follow creative paths that might lead you to make something that doesn't fit in with the rest of your work in style or content?  Do you ever work in ways that you use to when you were first discovering something or experimenting in your early days as an artist?

looking ahead

As we turn towards the new year and 2016 rolls into view I find myself getting excited for all the traveling and teaching I will be doing in the coming year.  I am planning my classes and also have two shows to do new work for, so it is a juggling exercise of studio time vs. computer time.  Lots of people have asked me how much time I spend in the studio as opposed to other activities, such as taking photos of my artwork, emailing clients, and writing this blog!  Well, that varies from week to week, but most people are surprised at how much time I spend away from my studio.  In reality I have found that being an artist is only partially about making art, and a lot about the business of art.

There is so much to do outside of the studio: social media, letter writing, updating emailing lists, updating inventory, communicating with galleries and other sales venues, working on a schedule, and generally keeping track of the myriad of small details that are a part of being a self-employed business person.  And don't even get me started about taxes!  That job is right around the corner...  However the bonus of all this desk sitting is getting into my studio again, which I plan to do right after the first of the year.  I have paintings to paint and glass to fire in the kiln, and hours to lose myself in the creative activity of making art.  But first I have to go for a walk...

walking.jpg

An important part of my creative life is getting outdoors.  Most days I try and go for a long walk, row, bicycle, or work in the garden.  It is a preparatory time for me, one where I clear my head and get in touch with my quiet self, my creative self.  While not actual studio time, it is most certainly an integral part of time spent in the studio.

 So to answer all those people who ask me how many hours a week I actually spend in the studio, I will say that, depending on the week, I guess I average around 20 studio hours and a random number of office hours and outdoor hours.  I try and balance my time between the three locales.  It works for me.

How do you balance studio time with business time?  Do you have an activity that is important to your studio practice?

thanks

I know that at this time of year it has become almost trite to say something about how thankful you are for some aspect of your life.  But I think you can never say "thank you" too much, or too often.  

I would like to take the time here to appreciate the students I have had the pleasure to have in my workshops over the last few years.  You have been generous with your knowledge, sharing technical information and tricks.  Thank you.  

You have been willing to try new things, work in ways that are uncomfortable to you, and in the process discover novel ways of working that excite.  And you have given me ideas for techniques to try.  Most students don't know this but teachers learn a lot from the explorations of their students.  Thank you.  

c12041c8f76ba229870b54b5e9857662.jpg
d2ba697ad26167608bae56ff7ed4bec4.jpg

You have spent your hard-earned money to take my classes.  You believed in learning so much that you were willing to take a risk and see where my class might take you.  I hope your faith in my teaching was rewarded.  Thank you.

You have brought treats, both homemade and store bought to share with your fellow students and the staff at the facilites I have taught at.  Once you even brought me some tea and ginger juice because I was sick (you know who you are).  Thank you.

The connections I have experienced because of all the wonderful students I have had in my classes has added to the richness of my life.  You have brought me laughter, knowledge, comraderie and caring, and I appreciate each and every one of you.  Thank you for having been a part of my life.

experimentation

This is my first blog posting.  From my quiet home and studio in the woods I decided it was time to connect with people who share my love of and interest in artmaking.  Being an artist can be such a lonely existence, in your studio making, thinking, experimenting.  And it is with a thought towards experimentation that I start my blogging life.

Lately I have been experimenting by working with collage and wax to create plates to print off of.  I have spent many days at the press, and many dollars on paper, only to have most of the prints end up in the recycle bin.  The paper sticks, the press pressure is too loose, too tight, the print is too busy, too light, just not right in some way.  I have had to suspend my attachment to outcome and to creating a product that might end up being exhibited.  As an artist who supports herself by her art this is a difficult thing for me to do.   

0c2d31f52acede64b7c4c0b0b9b0d5ee.jpg
fbbb0271786b4d26ae9ffeb2ac4ae9fd.jpg

When I teach my glass classes this is the thing I hear over and over from my students: how freeing it is to “play” and try new things, how fun it is and how energized they are by the process.  I do think it is vital for an artist to let go and just see what happens from time to time, suspended from a goal of ending up with a product.  It is what moves your vision forward, to find new directions and ideas to revitalize your artwork.  But for many of us it is the hardest thing to do.

 I will continue to experiment with this new process and see where it takes me.  Much paper will end up in the bin, and many dollars will be spent buying more.  But in the end I know I will discover something that will take me further, and change forever how I approach making no matter what media I work in.

 Do you give yourself time to experiment?  If so has it been worthwhile?  Is it a practice you make a point of taking time for?