Illness, Art and an Interview

Autumn is here…..and with it, some cooler temperatures. Unfortunately, not entirely in my favour, as I sit here with ears floating underwater, and a small fire spitting flames in my throat. I guess my immune system got a little bored with all the good health.

Though it’s hard not to laugh-cough, when you catch yourself answering the “How are you?” question, with a cracking and squeaky “Good! You?”. Fun times.

So I apologize in advance if my words don’t make complete sense – my mind is a little distracted with, you know, not being able to hear, swallow, cough, breathe, move.

 But since all I’m doing is binge-watching Australian comedies resting the past few days, it’s a good time to catch up on the past month and a half:

…I finally got back into painting, after a bit of a hiatus. Lately, I’ve been leaning a lot towards landscapes, though I did squeeze in one portrait (note: not all of these are complete)

…I’ve been working on some new sketches, preparing for a small craft show next week.

…and I set up and took down an exhibit of landscape paintings in Market Square in Saint John (no pictures of this process, sorry. Horrible memory + easily distracted is not a great combination).

While there, I did get a chance to check out the market, where I discovered this amazing potter (almost looks like watercolor painted onto those wares), and checked out the Sculpture Saint John event, which involved sculptors from across the world.

Lastly, I had an interview which was featured in a local magazine – it turned out quite well! It’s been strange but encouraging to have random people come up to me and compliment the artwork they saw in that feature. It’s rewarding, and somehow reaffirming that maybe, just maybe, I’m doing something right.

Next time, I’ll share a few of the reference photos I’ve been collecting over the past few weeks.

Brief Reprieve From Time

 June, June, June.

The weeks go by slowly, the months seem to disappear. I’m sure that only gets worse with age. Though it’s a pleasant, therapeutic side-effect of painting – that (occasional) brief reprieve from a sense of time. The kind that arises from intense focus, and lets you forget existence, with all its joys, disappointments, pressures and hopes.

 

Not to mention it also provides a nice distraction from the army of relentless mosquitoes waiting to maul you at your door (the not-so-pleasant side of living in a forest!). Every season certainly has it downsides, though the bright, blooming flowers, and Vitamin D surplus, more than make up for the occasional bite.

Things No One Tells You About Becoming An Artist (Part 1)

1. It’s not about being the “best”, it’s about being the one who just won’t give up. Your works won’t be perfect – but they will get better with practice. My philosophy: persistence is a greater predictor of success than talent alone.

2. Time is your friend. People (including most galleries) won’t take you seriously at first – you have to prove to them that you’re here to stay, and this is not just a hobby. Once you’ve had a few exhibits, which can take 1-2 years, things start to get easier – people will start referring to you as the artist, not the arteeeest. By then, your CV will also have started to grow, which in turn will make it easier to get into more galleries, and get accepted for art grants.

3. “Artist’s fee” does not mean you, as the artist, has to pay, it means the gallery will pay you. Here’s a great list of art lingo definitions, explained in 1-2 sentences, using everyday language. It’s helped me out several times.

4. There are three types of galleries: 1) those that pay you to exhibit, 2) those you have to pay to exhibit (referred to as vanity galleries), and 3) those that only represent artists – meaning in order to exhibit, you have to be represented by them, which comes with a whole set of conditions and a contract. Often they take a 50% cut of your sales, have strict conditions on where you can exhibit your work, but, on the plus side, your work is always on display at their gallery, they have access to serious art collectors, and it’s frequently seen as a sign of having “made it” as an artist.

5. Paint what you want, not what you think will sell. The few times I failed to follow this advice, it backfired; turns out it’s pretty difficult to anticipate what people will buy. Plus it makes life more difficult than it needs to be, when you’re not even enjoying what you’re painting.

6. Don’t wait for someone to “discover” you – you’ll be waiting a lifetime! If you want to succeed, be proactive – apply to group shows, submit proposals for solo shows, make business cards, have a website etc. Only by getting your name and your work out there, will you have a chance at succeeding – and no one is going to do that for you.

7. The Artist’s Way will become your bible. It’s a useful guide that will get you through blocks in creativity.

8. People will question your career choice and/or ask you how much you make.  It’s often people I don’t know well who ask these types of, let’s say brash, questions, but I try to be as polite as possible. In the case of asking about your financials: often it’s because of a false belief they have that artists are either poor and starving or rich and famous, but there’s no in between. So my approach, depending on the person asking the question, is pointing out that there are thousands of artists who make a decent living wage – it is possible. Their life stories may not hit front page news, but that doesn’t make them any less real (for proof, take a look at any reputable gallery website..you’ll see a list of artists you’ve never heard of, but whose sole occupation is making art). 

For those questioning why I pursue art at all – I explain that this is what I really love to do, and leave it at that.

9. You will likely never get rid of the self-doubt. In part because there is no right or wrong in art; and without there being an objective definition of makes good art, there is nothing you can compare your work to in order to judge its worth. Even if you’re having sold out shows, there will always be a little voice wondering if what you make is worthwhile or “good enough”.

As difficult as it is, embracing the self-doubt is more instrumental than trying to banish it. To be honest, I’m still learning this step, but so far it seems to entail recognizing the value of doubt as a tool for self-reflection – that it can push you in new and/or better directions by analyzing where you can improve. To do this effectively also means learning when to not listen to the doubt, which may be the most difficult part.

10. Every day/week/month, you’re going to envy the 9-5ers. That steady paycheque that calls to you like a glass of lemonade on a hot day. It’s not a bad thing, but it depends on your reasons for choosing it. If you can’t make rent, then yes, obviously, maybe a steady paycheque is not a bad idea. But if it’s just the uncertainty – and the discomfort that arises from it – then it’s a different story, because, unfortunately, uncertainty is the career you chose. You have to learn to be comfortable with it, or work around it.

It helps to remember money is just a means to an end – it’s not a ticket to happiness and fulfillment. So the bigger question is are you happy doing what you do? Does it fulfill you? Can you imagine doing anything else and also feeling fulfilled? This is a bit contentious, because not everyone agrees that your job ought to make you happy and fulfilled. You just have to do what’s right for you, which takes a bit of self-awareness.

11. Connections matter. Galleries tend to stick to artists they know, have heard of, or have dealt with in the past. Unless you’re only applying to (blindly judged) juried shows, merit is not the only factor in whether you’re accepted to participate. A way to increase your chances is to visit galleries often (maybe once every two months), or attending opening receptions of other artists. It’s an opportunity to just get to know the people who work in your field. Another aspect of connections is the second-hand networking: people who know you, recommending your work to their colleagues, acquaintances and friends (some of whom might work in the arts). It’s effective because it comes from a trusted source who isn’t trying to sell them anything.

12. Success won’t happen overnight. Expect to wait a handful of years before you reach financial viability. On average, it takes a new business 3-5 years to become profitable. So treat your art practice like a new business and don’t throw in the towel if by year 2 you’re not where you want to be yet. Patience and optimism help a lot at this stage.

On Thursday, I’ll upload the second part of this list of lessons I’ve learned the hard way (there were just too many to fit into one post).