My husband called from his office yesterday to let me know that another administrator at the university saw my work in his office and got all excited about it, asking where he got it. He told her that he bought it at a charity auction, but that he knew the artist if she was interested. She was very surprised to learn that it was my work, and indicated she wanted to get in touch with me to see what I had for sale. What a wonderful boost to my confidence to receive an email from he asking if I had a web site that she could peruse in her efforts to find a birthday gift for her husband. Wow! I've got some real motivation to get busy.
I wish there were an easy fix to fear of exposure and failure. Growing up being pounded by criticism and insults hasn't helped me. I wonder how long it takes to get past the memories of that and able to focus more on the present.
To put a little more pressure on myself, I'm going to figure out how long it will take me to produce six pieces and then set up an Etsy market page. If I have a deadline, I'll be more likely to make real progress.
I'm finally excited about it. I'm starting to feel like an artist instead of just saying that I am.
December 16, 2009
December 6, 2009
Critical Eyes
I was poking around on Etsy today, thinking about when I'm going to get more work done in the studio and when I'm going to get up the nerve to post art for sale. I saw a feature (new, or I just never noticed it before) that allows the visitor to select a few sites to look at that are waiting for their first sale. I'm wicked, evil and mean, but I have to say it. Some of it was just terribly unappealing! I mean it was so unappealing and simple that I thought surely it was a cute little kid who'd been encouraged by their mother to try to sell their work, inspiring me to look at the cutie's blog. Wrong.
The blog is written by someone who just really likes making art. Good for her. She is quite prolific in her production, which is more than I can say for myself. Once again, I am reminded that art is not a competitive sport. There is joy in the making which lives in a whole separate world away from art being made to please someone else's eyes. So I am ashamed of myself for being critical, worried again (because that's what I do so well!) that others will think the same of my work, yet inspired to kick myself in the fanny and get moving.
Today I am going to commit to some studio time. I'm not sure what I'll do yet, but I will get paint on my hands. Maybe it's time to pull out one of my millions of books intended as instruction in technique and inspiration and just DO something. In the past I have committed myself to posting a photo at the end of the day to put pressure on myself to get something done. That's a habit I should keep up. We'll see what I can accomplish.
The blog is written by someone who just really likes making art. Good for her. She is quite prolific in her production, which is more than I can say for myself. Once again, I am reminded that art is not a competitive sport. There is joy in the making which lives in a whole separate world away from art being made to please someone else's eyes. So I am ashamed of myself for being critical, worried again (because that's what I do so well!) that others will think the same of my work, yet inspired to kick myself in the fanny and get moving.
Today I am going to commit to some studio time. I'm not sure what I'll do yet, but I will get paint on my hands. Maybe it's time to pull out one of my millions of books intended as instruction in technique and inspiration and just DO something. In the past I have committed myself to posting a photo at the end of the day to put pressure on myself to get something done. That's a habit I should keep up. We'll see what I can accomplish.
December 5, 2009
Appreciating life today...
My dearest friend works for the Boys and Girls Club here in town. She asked me to volunteer as a chaperone for a holiday shopping spree for their neediest kids. I have to admit that while I agreed immediately, I kept wishing that I could just sleep in today and write them a check. But I promised, and so I went.
I got up while it was still dark, slugged down a half cup of espresso and dragged my sorry behind to the club. I waited in the gymnasium with 100 people I didn't know and listened to the "rules" for helping the kids shop with their $75 gift cards at Old Navy and for their pair of shoes ($25 max value) at Payless; we had to pay attention to the notes that the parents offered for what the kids really needed, no toys, etc. A line of children were walked out to meet one-on-one with the adults in line, and I was introduced to Johnny. He was a really polite boy of 11, in 6th grade at the middle school in the worst part of town. He was very friendly and shared easily as I asked him all about his favorite subject at school (film production!), his family and his favorite video games. When talking about Christmas plans, he told me that his parents used to have a lot of really bad fights and so his father moved out and got an apartment, and how his parents got along much better after that. Then his father got sick and was on dialysis, had a seizure followed by a heart attack and died a few months ago. This will be his first Christmas without his father. He told me that his grandmother was getting moving into their apartment this weekend because she and her husband (not "grandfather") also have a lot of really bad fights, so Grandma is going to live with them until she finds her own apartment. He wasn't bitter and didn't sound angry, but sadly matter-of-fact about the whole thing. It was all so sad.
Johnny was really fun to shop with and seemed to be very excited to get so much clothing and a cool, complete outfit. We had a lot of laughs while we shopped and chatted about everything and anything while we waited in the loooong checkout line with all of the other kids from the Club. When I asked him what big plans he had for the rest of the weekend, he told me that today was they day they went to the laundromat, and tomorrow he'd go with his aunt to 7-Eleven, get a Big Gulp to share out in the parking lot, and get a refill for 75 cents. On the bus as we headed back to the Club, Johnny looked at me and told me that he had a lot of fun this morning and thanked me for helping him shop. I gave him a big hug and told him that I'd see what we could do to get paired up again next year.
I grew up really poor and get it. This boy lives just a short distance from a bad apartment building that I lived in during high school. I really get it. I'm seeing signs that my son gets it - he wanted to buy Christmas gifts for all of his friends that he knows have struggling families and understands that they can't afford to reciprocate. Tonight, I'm distracted by the number of people that I know or see that are struggling and wish I could do more. My husband teases that if I ever win the lottery (not that I play), he knows I'd give most of it away.
So once again, I am reminded to count my blessings. I appreciate my good marriage, my great kids, having a comfortable roof over my head, not having to worry about buying food or paying for heat and having wonderful friends and family.
I got up while it was still dark, slugged down a half cup of espresso and dragged my sorry behind to the club. I waited in the gymnasium with 100 people I didn't know and listened to the "rules" for helping the kids shop with their $75 gift cards at Old Navy and for their pair of shoes ($25 max value) at Payless; we had to pay attention to the notes that the parents offered for what the kids really needed, no toys, etc. A line of children were walked out to meet one-on-one with the adults in line, and I was introduced to Johnny. He was a really polite boy of 11, in 6th grade at the middle school in the worst part of town. He was very friendly and shared easily as I asked him all about his favorite subject at school (film production!), his family and his favorite video games. When talking about Christmas plans, he told me that his parents used to have a lot of really bad fights and so his father moved out and got an apartment, and how his parents got along much better after that. Then his father got sick and was on dialysis, had a seizure followed by a heart attack and died a few months ago. This will be his first Christmas without his father. He told me that his grandmother was getting moving into their apartment this weekend because she and her husband (not "grandfather") also have a lot of really bad fights, so Grandma is going to live with them until she finds her own apartment. He wasn't bitter and didn't sound angry, but sadly matter-of-fact about the whole thing. It was all so sad.
Johnny was really fun to shop with and seemed to be very excited to get so much clothing and a cool, complete outfit. We had a lot of laughs while we shopped and chatted about everything and anything while we waited in the loooong checkout line with all of the other kids from the Club. When I asked him what big plans he had for the rest of the weekend, he told me that today was they day they went to the laundromat, and tomorrow he'd go with his aunt to 7-Eleven, get a Big Gulp to share out in the parking lot, and get a refill for 75 cents. On the bus as we headed back to the Club, Johnny looked at me and told me that he had a lot of fun this morning and thanked me for helping him shop. I gave him a big hug and told him that I'd see what we could do to get paired up again next year.
I grew up really poor and get it. This boy lives just a short distance from a bad apartment building that I lived in during high school. I really get it. I'm seeing signs that my son gets it - he wanted to buy Christmas gifts for all of his friends that he knows have struggling families and understands that they can't afford to reciprocate. Tonight, I'm distracted by the number of people that I know or see that are struggling and wish I could do more. My husband teases that if I ever win the lottery (not that I play), he knows I'd give most of it away.
So once again, I am reminded to count my blessings. I appreciate my good marriage, my great kids, having a comfortable roof over my head, not having to worry about buying food or paying for heat and having wonderful friends and family.
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