making it

As I ponder the next few months of my art business, I start thinking about ways to reach new customers.  I don't have a show for a year and a half so between shows I need to generate new markets and collectors.  With the internet there are so many ways to market yourself, and to reach out.  Etsy, Artful Home, and Saatchi Art are just a few online galleries for promotion and sales.  Then there is Facebook, Instagram and who knows what other social media platforms for reaching out to the art loving bigger world.  I am considering experimenting with offering selected pieces of my graphic work for sale on my website, work not shown in any local galleries but sold all over the country by my rep.  I will change the offerings from time to time to see what attracts the most attention and comments.  

As I said, I have an artist rep who sells my graphic work around the country.  I am shown in a few commercial galleries, in an artist run gallery, and am in group shows on occasion.  For example, right now I have two glass pieces in a show in Anacortes, Washington.  Here is one of them:

transect, kiln glass, 18x18

I often explain my approach to friends who have never been dependent on commissioned sales or on marketing themselves, friends who have had a job they did at an office or in a classroom, that I have my eggs in many baskets, my fingers in many pies, or whatever food metaphor comes to mind.  So my project for this summer is to figure out other ways of "making it"...to reach new collectors and markets. It is part of my job as an independent business person to think broadly and openly about my business, and to do what I can to make a decent living by reaching out to as many old and new collectors as I can.  Oh, and somewhere in there I will be in my studio making new work, experimenting with new methods and ideas, and seeing where my inquiries take me.  

What do you do to reach new collectors or markets?  Have you had better success in certain venues than in others?  How many eggs are in your basket?

stuck

I'm working on a show right now and find that sometimes I get stuck, and that is not a comfortable feeling when you have a show deadline ahead.  So I started thinking about methods I use for getting "unstuck".

I always work on multiple pieces at once, so sometimes leaving the piece aside that I am stuck on and working on others can give me a new perspective when I return.

Making a bold move on a piece can open it up and get it moving again.  I often do this when I have been trying to "save" a part of a painting by working around that precious spot.  Frequently trying to save a spot while changing areas around it causes the painting to no longer feel coherent.  It's difficult, but if you can make a bold move, even at the risk of destroying the part you are trying to save, it can get a piece moving again.  Once I painted a large red swatch right aross the center of the piece, covering over the part I was gingerly painting around, but improving the piece a hundred fold, and getting me further along in resolving it.

Conversely, another approach when I have no idea where to go on a painting is to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING, even a small thing.  This can work when you have a piece at a point where it needs work but you have no idea which way to go with it.  Getting "unstuck" is the goal here and baby steps work as well as the big bold move at times.

If all else fails sometimes it is best to take a break, leave the studio, go for a walk, read a book, or whatever it is that will take you mentally away from your studio.  Sometimes getting completely away from the piece and thinking about something else, or enjoyng another activity is just what you need to get you back on track.

Remember though that the answer comes from DOING, so if you take a break don't make it too long, although sometimes a few days or even a few weeks can be needed.  The most important thing when resolving a piece of your art is to show up, be present and keep at it!

What do you do when you are stuck?

known and unknown

Home now from my month in Australia and as some images have faded, some have become more vivid.  Travel is a marvelous thing.  You look forward to it for months, or at least weeks, with perhaps a mixture of excitement and trepidation, but at the very least anticipation.  Then the big trip arrives and you experience it with a sense of the unreal and the very real.  Australia was just an abstraction until I went there.  It was in my imagination a land of peculiar animals (kangaroos, koalas) and colorful artwork made of dots and patterns (Aboriginal art).  I knew of the Great Barrier Reef and Uluru in the center of the country/continent.  After being there for a month I have seen kangaroos and koalas in the wild, and visited many museums with room after room of Aborignal art.  My imagination hasn't been diminished by the experience but heightened.  As I sit here in my office in my home in Port Townsend, Washington, the wind blowing and rain falling outside, I know that half a world away it is spring and flowers are blooming, because just a few weeks ago I saw that for myself.  It still seems hard to believe though!

So now that I am back in my studio there are certain images that are percolating to the top, things that while I was there I suspected might hold some magic for me, but as I work towards my May, 2018 painting show I realize they do.  Some of them, like the stands of trees we saw as we walked and traveled about, were mostly eucalypts but held a certain resemblance in their relationships that I recognized from my own home in the woods.  I had been thinking a lot about trees before I went and the stands of trees I saw there only heightened those thoughts.

I also was looking for patterns in what I observed, as the concept of repetition with variation has been of interest to me, and really what a look into the woods is about.  I saw evidence of that in the groves of trees both wild and cultivated.

I also observed repetition and pattern in the Aboriginal artwork I saw at the museums we visited in Canberra, Melbourne and Sydney.  

And yes, we saw kangaroos every day, as well as cockatoos and other parrots.

It is hard to imagine these animals, that to we Americans are exotic pets or zoo inhabitants, actually wander about in people's yards and gardens somewhere.  They do in Australia!  

And lastly we went to an island where there are a bunch of koalas living, as they depend on only one kind of euclyptus tree for their diet, and there are a few on this island, although less all the time as they are eating themselves into extinction there, as they have elsewhere with their specialized diet.

So as the next weeks and months pass I'm sure more images from my time in Australia will come forth and more memories fade, but I am excited to create this next body of work as a way of figuring out what Australia meant to me.  I hope to discover more and more along the way!

What travels have you taken that have altered your way of looking at the world, or made you more aware of something?  Did you discover new artists or genres of art there?  Do you find travel to be important to you?

leaving on a jet plane

I am very excited to be given the opportunity to visit Australia for a month for an artist's residency.  During this month, I will be doing drawings that focus on the natural world, which I imagine will be familiar and yet very different than home.  I will be going with my good friend and fellow artist, Keaney Rathbun.  He and I have very different styles and genres of art, but we both use the natural world as the background of our inquiries.  We will visit  both cultivated gardens and natural areas there, and of course museums when we are in Melbourne and Sydney.  While there we both plan on doing a lot of drawings, in fact mostly drawings.  We will be hosted by a couple who have 7 acres of cultivated gardens so their property will be our main focus.  I know we will find a lot to draw just on their property!

I have never done a residency like this.  Most residencies take place in a certain locale, and you work on your chosen medium in that locale.  They are usually self-directed but don't involve a private home, and aren't as wide ranging as ours will be.  I plan on doing drawings but want to zero in on shapes I can make stencils from when I get home.  But of course, the residency will create its own energy, and I'm sure I will be making work that surprises me,  I can't wait to see what happens, while there and afterwards!  

Usually I include photos in my blog posts, but since I haven't taken this trip yet I am including an image of a print I did at a residency in printmaking 13 years  ago.  It was an experience that really moved me along in my desire to work larger and in color.  As you can see from this print, I was only just beginning to try out my color wings, but what has come since then has changed forever the way I make art.  That residency moved me along.

I will create a blog post after I return to report on the experience.  Stay tuned...

Have you ever done a residency in a foreign country?  What sort of experience was it for you?  Do you find it influenced your art?  Or did you continue doing the same work after you returned to your studio?

learning new things

For this year, 2017, I have less planned projects, and so more time to experiment with new ideas.  I have been trying some mixed media work, drawing and painting over failed prints to see what new energy I can bring to old work.  Those are still just that, ideas in process.  But I have also been creating some functional glass pieces.  

I started out by using scraps of left over projects, and the inquiry has just grown from there.

For the remainder of the year, I plan on continuing these trials and experiments.  Some are ready for prime time, and others not.  I will update my progress over the coming months.

economy of form

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of economy of form that I wrote about in my last blog posting.  It is an important aspect of design.  Economy in design simply means keeping it simple.  If you can remove an element from a composition  and it still works, then leave that element out.  You don’t want to include more than is needed, but be sure to include all that is needed to create an intelligent composition.  This idea is worth pursuing.

Some of the paintings from my last show embrace that concept.  They also happen to be some of my favorites from that show.  Here are a few:

Nocturne #5

Nocturne #4

And this one that captures the essence of a sunset, titled "End of Day":

I remember a writing teacher of mine who taught us to free write, and then take what we wrote and remove unnecessary words.  And then remove more.  And then more.  When we finally got to where we couldn't remove any more words without making it unintelligible, only then was our piece of writing finished.  It is the essence of what you are trying to say that counts, not all the useless words that surround it.  Here is a painting titled "Bonfire".  It is a simple abstraction of the idea of a large, outdoor fire.  For me it exemplifies the best of what I am hoping to achieve more of: basic shapes with an intriguing and mysterious feeling, beautiful and yet limited use of color, and seductive textures.

I have a tendancy to make my work visually complicated.  It is easy to compose this way...it covers up the weaknesses in my composition.  Working with simple shapes, minimal color, and lots of space between things is HARD!  I vow to challenge myself to do just that in the coming year.

Does this idea resonate with you?

georgia

On a recent trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico I visited the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum. I had been there once before, many years ago, and even though it wasn't my first choice then for a museum to spend an afternoon in I was memorably impressed with the scope and range of her vision.  So with an afternoon off before a four day teaching job I decided to spend it with Georgia.  

Georgia O'Keeffe is one of those artists, along with some of the greats, who has been over-merchandized and whose work has been trivialized by being placed on posters, coffee cups, and so on.  Two of my other favorites have suffered that same fate: Paul Gauguin and Frida Kahlo.  I have always been enamoured of their singular world view, and the passion with which they pursued their art.  O'Keeffe's work was unique for its time, as was Gauguin's and Kahlo's, and was a personal expression of her love of the natural world.  She always painted her love, whether it was for a man or a landscape.  

My favorites of her work for many years have been the watercolors.  Her fluid mark, and the economy of her shapes and colors are all the hallmarks of a confident artist who is assured of what she is trying to say.  They are simple visually and yet belie a skill I can only hope to achieve.  To express an idea in a few lines and colors and then leave it alone shows such conviction.  They breathe life even in the empty spaces.

I also discovered how often she worked in series, and did larger more finished works from quick sketches done outdoors on site.

But the thing I most zeroed in on were the simple forms and shapes she employed in much of her work.  Triangles, circles and rectangles are the geometries she used to describe trees, buildings, and abstractions strongly rooted in the natural world.  I was particularly thrilled to discover she did a whole series of paintings about the views from airplane windows as I have also painted many works that were inspired by my flights around the country. Here is one she did in that series:

This painting is quite large, and done in oils.  She did this in her later years when macular degeneration was compromising her abilites to paint.  But she, like so many artists have done, found ways around her disability to create works of strength and purity.

Georgia O'Keeffe is most well-known for her large flower paintings.  But the entire body of work she did, from her early days as a young woman drawing abstractions in charcoal to her watercolor sketches to her landscapes and abstractions in oils merit attention.  I aspire over the next years to work towards that economy of form and shape, and to convey through my art, as Georgia did, how to fill a space in a beautiful way.

Are you a Georgia O'Keeffe fan?  If so how has she influenced your work?  Is there some other artist that moves and inspires you?  Who, and why?

showtime!

After many months of preparation with regards to painting and thinking and painting some more, I am in the homestretch of my October exhibition, "A Perfectly Ordinary Light", opening at Waterstone Gallery in Portland, Oregon on October 4.  The work is mostly done (a little tweaking necessary) and just needs framing and labeling.  The month of September will be spent mostly on promotion besides the few items just mentioned.  It is amazing how many small details there are to mounting a show.

A Perfectly Ordinary Light, 13x31

Doing the work is pretty obivous to anyone who has visited an art exhibition.  There are paintings, or some other type of artwork, presented by the gallery and one can see it took months to create a cohesive body of work.  But what about the other parts of exhibiting?  The promotional activities before the show opens, the inventorying of all the art before the work is delivered, the additions to websites, and the all-important selling of the work in order to support the artist and their contining career.  There are a myriad of small and large parts that go into being an artist, and exhibiting your art in a gallery.  

Sparkle, 25x19

Of course all of this is more work for an artist such as myself who shows her paintings in an artist-run gallery as I have to do all the legwork and much of the promotion.  But it is a wonderful challenge, and makes me appreciate all the work that commercial galleries do to promote their artists.

I hope that if you live in the Portland area, or are in the area visiting during the  month of October, that you will get to see my show at Waterstone Gallery.   And if you can't see it in person I hope you will visit it at my website or the Waterstone website after October 1.  It isn't the same as seeing it in person as the surface of the paintings is so important but I am most grateful for any sort of visit you might make.

curating a show

During this past year I have curated a show that will be at Northwind Art Center in Port Townsend, Washington in July 2016 (among other studio-focused activities).  It has been a lot of work, but also immensely rewarding.  The best parts have been visiting and talking with the artists in their studios and choosing the artwork that will be included in an always interesting conversation.  There have been endless emails, tiresome details, frustrating interchanges, but always there is the art.  The art is the reason I kept going, despite moments of hair-tearing irritations. And now that it is almost here, I am so glad I did this.

So how did I end up curating this show?  About a year ago Northwind Art Center asked me to curate an encaustic show.  I am loathe to do anything  medium focused, preferring instead to look at the art for its content and not its material.  So I decided I would agree to curate, but that the show would have a title devoid of the word "encaustic" and that the show itself would have an overarching concept.  I asked a number of artists, and all but one agreed to be in the show.  I threw out a title ("Presence/Absence") that seemed to work with most of the work these artists already did, and they all whole-heartedly thought it a very open and yet compelling theme.  The month got changed (from February to July, thank goodness!) and many of the details got changed (hence the hair pulling) but here we are.  We hang the show Tuesday and Wednesday, and it opens with a private reception on Friday.  The public reception is Saturday.  YAY!

The artists are: Brenda Mallory, Andrea Benson, Jef Gunn, Deborah Kapoor, Kirk Weller, Andrea Schwartz-Feit, Joan Stuart Ross and myself.  Here are three of the 6 pieces I will have in the show: 

The Stars Still Shine, 7 x 8

Sail Away, 7 x 8

One Cloud, Two Clouds, Three Clouds, None, 7 x 8

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.  

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?

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:

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:

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...

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.  

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.   

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?