Wanted: Thicker Skin

Here we go again.  I was so excited to finish the chair for my friend's daughter on her 4th birthday.   The seat design was inspired by a painting exercise in an instructional book by artist Cristina Acosta, and the rest of the details were just my fancy.   I started the chair when Raegan was one year old, but had no place to work.  Now that I have a studio, I was able to work on it every day and have it finished on time (as on time as one can be when the birthday girl is turning four).  The birthday party was an intimate gathering - other than the immediate family, me and Kevin, there were three adult friends. 

The response was underwhelming.  I don't know what I expected.  I'm not a great artist.  I can't even claim ownership of the bulk of the primary design.  I know my work isn't everyone's cup of tea, but still... I'm feeling like a big baby, discouraged and foolish.  I want to hide my work.  I'm too old to feel like this.  Of course, I'll get back on the horse and get back to work (not on furniture!) in the studio, but it makes me feel like not doing this any more.  Could I be more petulant?!?  I'm not upset with anyone because no one did anything wrong.  How do I feel?  Defeated.  For now.  I'm not sure I can reach to kick myself in the patoot to snap out of this funk.

Is "Self Taught" the kiss of death for an artist???

As I'm wrapping up the studio and actually getting it into a condition that will allow me to work, I'm busy sketching and jotting down ideas for future projects. I like looking at Etsy to see what other artists are doing and to get a sense of whether or not there's any market left given this stinky economy. On the one hand, I'm as intimidated as hell with the artists' bios that go on at length about their MFA from this fabulous university, followed by gallery shows all over the globe. Then I stumble on web sites or printed articles about people who are, in my opinion, great artists and describe themselves as "self taught." I dread the conversations with my husband's work associates (he's a senior administrator at a large university) when they ask (if they bother, because I AM just the wife), "What do you do?" I feel as if I must first apologize for no longer having an office job (it was a great job at a hospital, but then they ask if I am a nurse or doctor, to which I must justify my life and responsibilities for all radiation safety, contracts, etc. and watch their eyes glaze). When I explain that I have "retired" from the world of suits and pantyhose to follow my passion for art, they start asking questions about where I studied or with whom. Some of these people collect the real thing - they have Picasso hanging in their home, among other "real" artists' works. Now I want to change the subject.

I twitch in discomfort and reply that I have learned on my own after years of playing, expirimenting, enjoying inspiration provided by knowing other artists or following their work. Do we have to have permission to use the label artist because it was not bestowed by an institution of higher education? I went to high school with John Lasseter (Pixar) and can tell you that I remember distinctly attending a show of art work by the students, particularly two of his huge paper mache sculptures. I remember thinking that this guy was a seriously talented artist, and he was only a senior in high school. I never even took art in high school, but can't imagine my life without being able to release the creative drive that I can't explain to people who just don't have that compulsion to create something out of bits and pieces.

Perhaps I just need to relax about answering the dreaded question. I am self taught, and I'm not too lousy at it all if I do say so myself. Even if it is privately or anonymously here on the web.

Time to sketch.