The Prison of Your Voice

I know, I know. I have told you how important it is to develop your own, distinctive voice. It is your trademark, and your brand. But,.....I can't help but wonder if all this emphasis on voice can be a prison or a poison to our creative muse.

Let's say you do what everyone says. You come up with something that is "yours"! No one else has anything quite like it out there. And, joy oh joy!!....people like it! They are buying it! Talk about gratification. There is truly joy in the creative process itself. It can be the best drug on earth for anything that ails you. But, when others see your work and "oooh" and "ahhhh!" over it, that is a very heady moment.

And, even artists are human. What happens when we get this wonderful rush of excitement over how much people liked what we did? We want to hold onto it, to preserve it, nurture it, baby it.....do absolutely anything to keep it going. Am I right?

The problem is, this very act is what might kill us as artists. As soon as we try to stay right in that moment of being surrounded by "oohhh's" and "aaahhh's"....better yet, accompanied by hands outstretched with credit cards or cash....as soon as we try to capture that moment, we may have hammered a nail in the coffin for our creativity.

As soon as we say to ourselves, "this is what is working, so I will do more of this," we have begun to build the prison walls. It will not be immediately apparent. Because it will take time for the light to dim, and the crowds to disappear. But, they will. Human nature, it seems, craves a certain degree of novelty. And if we do not continue to create, we risk losing our audience, and that excitement about our work.

Yes, we want, and need, to develop a line, and explore it fully. But, we don't want to kill the creative urge in the process. We must trust that if we had one good idea, there are more where that came from. Doing work to satisfy the market is not what this is about. It is more about letting the reaction of the market guide,....or misguide,...your muse.

What is the creative urge? For me it is the voice that says, "I wonder", or "Hunhh." It is that place where a question pops into my mind. Or a shape or form, or a new surface. This is the place we must nurture and protect. This is the place that needs care and feeding. If instead, we say, "Oh no, I can't do that. This is what my work looks like, what people expect from me....not that." We firmly turn our back, close that door, and put that nose on that grindstone, and grind away. And pretty soon, we will find that the ideas to explore have disappeared.

Another risk of closing off to new ideas that might pop up, is that we might become very, very protective of "our" work. When we get to that place of intense ownership, and protection of our work or our expression, we can start to see threats where there are none. People who are copying us. People who are stealing from us. Fear and paranoia are not conducive to creativity. They send us looking over our shoulder and around the corner, when where we really need to be looking is inside. Inside our heads and our hearts. Letting the voice that can't be too still for too long have it's say.

Fear of being copied can be a huge distraction. It drains our energy, and distracts our attention. It keeps us from moving forward. We always have one eye open for that dirty, rotten scoundrel who is ready to rip us off.

What if instead, we say, "Copying happens." Because it does. It is the place where many people begin. It is borne from admiration and enthusiasm, as much as any other place. When an individual copies you, it is unlikely to do much harm. They cannot copy your name, or your maker's mark....the very energy you infuse into each piece in the process of creation. They will most likely get bored and move along, or find their own muse and move along. And that is the essential ingredient for all of us, movement.

Movement is rushing, bubbling, flowing. It may have fits and starts at times, but the general idea is motion. Momentum. Seldom in a straight line. Our creative voice must move. It must stretch it's legs. Peek around the corner, veer off down that path. It is endlessly curious. Sitting still is not what this is about. Building an artistic legacy on one thought, one idea, one expression will not happen. Letting yourself grow as an artist means going with the flow more than discipline. I will explore that in a bit more depth in my next post. But for now, let me know what you think. How does your creativity bubble up? Does it move in fits and starts? Or does all this seem like a foreign language. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving to all my American readers. And, any and all, please feel free to share a thought of thanks for the day, the week, or the year.

I personally, am thankful for the gift of watching my daughters grow up and begin to emerge as two incredibly unique and wonderful people.

Another Reason to Find YOUR Voice

Once again, the issue of voice arises. What makes your work identifiably yours, and belonging to no one else? And why in the world is it such a big deal?

When you first start out, voice is hard to grasp, or develop. Technique takes center stage. But you know you are seeing it when you can look at a picture and immediately identify it as belong to a specific person. Or, your mouth drops open when you see something for the first time, and you gasp. Or you just feel compelled to touch. You can't stop the "oooohhh..." from floating out of your mouth.

Why am I bringing it up again? I was listening to the radio this morning in the car on the way to an appointment. The conversation was about our dependence on oil from other countries, and whether or not we could become energy independent. At one point in the discussion, a light bulb clicked on in my head. The guest on the program spoke about how oil is a commodity like iPod's, flowers, or rice. And people will buy a commodity based on price, availability and convenience.

The question that immediately popped into my head was, "Can craft be a commodity?" And, I am sure you know the answer, "Yes." Without a doubt. I instantly thought of the many, many jewelry artists I have seen making fused dichroic glass. At one time, there was a "wow" factor to it. But now, unless the artist has created a unique way of incorporating the glass into the piece of jewelry, there is no compulsion to buy from one artist versus another, unless it is based on price, convenience, or perhaps personal relationship.

The same can be said of so many other craft objects. If you go to enough craft shows, you will see many of the same things, again and again. But, at that same show, there will be a few artists that pull you in. They are doing something that is different and unique. As I write about this, I can think of several artists right off the top of my head whose work has that flavor. They range from ceramics to sculpture to jewelry. Their work stays in my head because it was so fresh and unique, and their style speaks to me on some level. I have to stop, and look and maybe even buy.

My daughter is beginning to dabble in photography. We have had lots of conversations lately about photographs, and one thing she has said repeatedly, is that a picture of a sunset is not art....unless you are somehow looking at it in a new and fresh way. We were at the New Hampshire Craftsman's Guild Show last week, and she saw some pictures of boats tied up to a dock. Four or five rowboats of various colors. You know the picture, I am sure. She loved it. I preferred the picture of the sole boat, white, tied to a buoy in a mist. Monochromatic, and definitely one with a mood. It was a twist on the boat picture. I pointed it out to her. She loved the one with all the colors. This was in the first tent we visited.

As we walked the show, she started to notice several other photographers with essentially the same picture. That image had become commoditized. Buying one versus another would likely be based more on price than on anything else. She now looked at that picture as just another sunset shot.

Is that why you want someone to buy your work? Because you have the best price on this object. An object that can be found in subtle variations, from multiple sources. I don't. I want them to buy it because the love it. Because if they don't buy it, it will stay in their head. They will wish they had it.

There are times that the commodity item fills the bill nicely. And there are plenty of successful businesses built on making and selling commodity type items. But, if you are going to be in that market, recognize the competition will be fierce, and you will always be squeezed on price. Your creative energy will likely be focused more on cost cutting than on design innovations. If the business side of things is what excites you the most, that might be just the right fit for you. If, on the other hand, it is the art, or creative side that makes you get out of bed in the morning, then avoiding be just another commodity is essential to your success.

We all have a voice. A unique set of experiences and inspirations. How does your work reflect the path of your life? Does it? If it doesn't, then perhaps it is time to spend some play time in the studio. Experimenting. Asking "What if?" When you find it, you will know. It will be singing to you loud and clear, asking, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you!" And then, the party will really begin!

Is It Bullying or Just An Innocent Request?

I found myself in an awkward position several times during the retreat weekend. I had brought some of my new work to show, and sell. It was wonderful to have a group huddled around the work, touching, "oohing", and "aahing". When you have spent months, or longer, working out a new line of work, there is nothing more gratifying than seeing other people appreciating it. And when that appreciation extends into purchases, it doesn't get much better than that. Voting with dollars is the biggest "yes" you can get about your work.

But, I had not anticipated another side of that appreciation, and it had to do with the environment I was in. I had many requests to show exactly how I make the beads I use in my new Shibori line. How do I get them so uniform in size? How do I do that surface design? On one level it is flattering. They so connect with the work, that they want to make it themselves. But, on the other hand, I am not ready to share just yet. It is what I am selling. My income depends upon this work, and these designs. It is too new to be firmly recognizable as my work. It is less than a year old.

What exactly are the costs of my laying it all out there at a retreat.....doing a demo? First, I will be giving away my "intellectual property". Exactly how I make these beads, in form and surface design, is my intellectual property. Just like companies that make widgets, that knowledge has value. Others may copy what I am doing, but there is no reason for me to hand it to them on a silver platter. Why do you think companies like Apple voraciously defend their patents and copyrights? Their knowledge is too valuable to lose. Right now, I feel protective of the knowledge of how I make these beads.

If I decide I want to share it, it might make more sense for me to teach in a class where I am being paid to teach what I have developed. It is at least acknowledging that the time and creative energy that went into this work is worth something. Whether it is in the form of a DVD that you have made, a book, or a classroom, if you are being compensated, you are acknowledging you are sharing something of worth, as is the recipient.

Sometimes we give stuff away freely and without the need or desire for compensation. I did a demo at the retreat of some designs I came up with a while back, and knew I was never going to use. Sharing it meant someone else, who might connect with the idea more than I did, could run with it. I did it willingly and freely. It felt right.

The problem with the retreat environment, with demos on the schedule every half hour, is that a perception may develop that everyone shares everything they know. Holding back is selfish. Especially to someone who is not aware of the complete landscape of where this medium fits into people's lives. Some play with it as an outlet from their regular job. For others, it is a job. And others float back and forth in the mid-zone.

It is not too hard to politely turn down a request to teach something that you are not ready to share. The challenge I found, was having the request made multiple times by the same person. I think the intention was made without fully grasping the consequences to me, and thus the persistence in asking. I was polite but firm in my resistance to teach this particular technique. I repeatedly said, "I am not ready to let go of this yet. They are new designs."

I found my response became more strained when faced with the same request again and again from a few people. I held my line. But would someone else who was not standing on such firm ground, eventually give in to the request, not able to say "No" just one more time? The recipients of the knowledge shared might walk away pleased with what they have learned, but will they understand the resentment they might have created in the person they dragged the information out of? I am guessing they just don't know what it is like on the other side of the equation, and why there is resistance to sharing.

Just because someone asks, it does not mean you have to share. You share because you want to. I am not saying this from being a cut throat business person. I am saying it from the point of view of being pragmatic. I can make a choice; to share or not to share. It is my choice to make. And the timing is up to me. I may disappoint a few people along the way, but in the end, I would rather do that than carry around the resentment of feeling bullied into sharing something I was not ready to share.

If teaching or writing is the primary source of income for your business as an Artrepreneur, the decision process might be different. You may be interested in demonstrating your teaching abilities to potential students.....giving them a taste of what they might learn from you in a more extensive class. Or you want to practice and refine your teaching skills. These are valid reasons to perhaps share more willingly and openly. But the context of those choices, or an alternative choice are not always recognized by others. Even when we explicitly state our reason.

It never feels good to say "No, I am not going to share this." It feels even worse when you have to say it again and again and again. But worse than that, giving in when you know in your heart, you do not want to, at least not yet. Approach these choices with a conscious awareness of the trade-offs. And whatever your choice, make sure it comes from what you need right now, and not the external volume. Remember the old Gallo wine commercial...."We will sell no wine before it's time." We must not share our designs and techniques, until the time and circumstances feel right. Then we can let it flow as freely as the wine!

What Do You Know?

It always surprises me how much insight is possible in the obvious. But it is only when we step outside our normal framework that we can perhaps have the vantage point to see.

When I began this journey into becoming a working crafts person, I found there were many steps and hurdles along the way. First, it was developing the technical skill with my material. I can still remember Nancy Markoe at a class at the Arts Business Institute. She was reminding us that no matter how much we learned and understood about the business of craft, in the end we had to also spend time in the studio, honing our skill. We had to be able to have our hands understand the material. She used an example of making a handle for a mug 100 times before you might begin to be competent at that task, and develop the muscle memory of the task. Her words ring even more true for me now.

I have come to understand that we often start from where we are. Obvious, yes. The experiences we have had will color what we see as possible. For me, jewelry was an obvious thing to make. I have worn jewelry for as long as I can remember. I have collections of antique and vintage jewelry. At a craft show, I have always been drawn to the jewelry. I know jewelry. I love jewelry. And my cranes came from a connection to that origami form.

But recently, I began to venture outside the familiar. When I began work on the Crane Project, I was scared to death. I knew nothing about this new terrain, or a project of this size or scale. I knew I was going to have to find a place to install the project. How do you find that? How does it get installed? How do I get the money to pay for it? How in the world does something so big and overwhelming ever happen?

I am still learning answers to many of those questions. But in the process, I have had my world expanded a bit. What seemed beyond me, and a world inhabited by others, more daring or more creative now seems like a place I might want to visit. I have had several ideas stirring up lately that I am excited about exploring. I don't know when there will be time to get to them, but nonetheless, I have experienced a shift.

When we move beyond what we know it is stretching our muscles. It may hurt. We may be rejected. We may not fit in. But, it may be worth the aches and pains on the way to creative growth. We grow when we go somewhere new, or try something different than what we already know how to do well. Growth is seldom going to happen by sticking with what you already know.

In the last few months, I have applied for, and been rejected for, several grants. A year ago, the idea of a grant was not even on my radar. I have now learned more about that process, and will continue to refine my approach. I have learned more about budgeting for a project. I have asked all sorts of people for all sorts of help. Some say no, but others say yes. Some days I feel like a politician running for office and trying to raise funds for the campaign. It is not what you are in this for, but if you don't do it, the other opportunities may not come your way.

By taking this step across the imaginary line of what I saw as possible, into the impossible, I feel like I am Alice in Wonderland. I have entered a new place, with all sorts of doors to explore and possibilities to consider. I may decide I want to go back to the safety of what I knew before, but I may end up feeling a creative expansion that would not have been possible if I did not step across that imaginary line. The line was only there in my head. I decided what I could do, and what was not possible. The line is mutable though. We can redraw it at any time. We can venture into areas we thought were off limits.

What you know and what you have done before does not have to set the boundaries for where you go in the future. They can be a foundation. A stepping stone. A safe harbor. We get to choose.

Do you have any lines you want to redraw?

Following a Path to Joy

Almost eight years ago my dad died suddenly from a heart attack. He actually had at least three heart attacks over a few days. The second one brought him to the hospital, and he ended up with a stent in his heart. But, his heart never stabilized, and later that night he had another heart attack that ruptured his left ventricle. This one was fatal.

At first I was doing what I could to help my mother through this difficult time. But over the next few months, I found that his death affected me more than I thought it did. I found myself slipping into a deep depression. Finally, I sought out a therapist. Eight years, and several therapists later, I think of my Dad, and miss him, but I have also made some deep changes in the way I live my life, and along the way found more joy than I thought was possible.

Why am I sharing this with you? It relates a bit to the post I had recently about Critical Balance. Until this crisis sent me to therapy, I did not realize how much all the negative "stuff" I carried around in my head, and repeated to myself over and over again, inhibited my creativity, and diminished my life overall.

I continue therapy, even though depression is gone from my life, because I have come to realize the work to stay present, and not get caught up in all that "stuff" is something that is on-going. Once a month I get to check-in with the best therapist I could ever have. And once a month I meet with an amazing group of women, and we reflect and share on different aspects of our lives and our experiences. In this process, I can see better where I have been, and how far I have come. I can find where the residue of pain still resides, and carefully explore and heal. And I stay in touch with "me." And if you want to find your voice, there is no better place to start!

This past week, we met, and we wrote about the joy that is in our lives. We were in tears, and laughing, sometimes simultaneously as we shared our reflections. Tonight, I shared with my kids what I wrote, and given their response, I decided to post it here, with the background. I have come to believe, the work I did "on myself" was the best work I ever did to nurture my creative being.

So here goes....

I start to reflect upon my day and the little moments that made me smile, or feel in that moment. What unifies those moments is simply presence. Presence to what is. Presence to a moment that can’t be captured and preserved on film, or in words, or in any way at all as completely as just being there at that moment.

My mom calls to thank me for coming over and for the card from me that she found after we left. We talk for maybe ten minutes, and it is a nice re-connection and reinforcement of our relationship and our bond as mother and daughter.

I take a tray of beads out of the oven. As I collect them into my hand, and then into a container, the subtle sparkle and pattern catches my eye and makes me smile. Yes! This time it worked. These will make some nice pieces. But, just now, they bring me a moment of joy. I roll them around for a moment, in the container, enjoying the visual and tactile experience.

Later I am making cranes. I cover a sheet of clay with a variety of cane slices. The mix of color and pattern sings on this one. I smile in a moment of “yes!”

Packaging and sorting cranes to fill orders. These normally tedious tasks feel good today. I enjoy seeing each crane on the shred, and in it’s own little box. Soon two orders are picked and in boxes to ship. I take pleasure in the ease with which this happened today.

At dinner, I take in Colleen. Her eyes sparkle as she talks. A smile illuminates her already luminous face. We all laugh together as Kaela exudes joy and excitement at all the possible directions her life could take. Each fulfilling an aspect of her being. She can barely get the words out in a coherent sentence, she is so happy about all that lies before her like a feast.

My life is one of abundance. Simple moments. The excitement of the dog to do a trick and get a treat. The sound of my coffee press makes as it slides down. Dave’s voice on the phone.

I had moments of stress and frustration today. But the joy of the moment can be found like sparkling jewels scattered throughout my day.

My little mantra these days is “Create abundance.” Perhaps I don’t need to say create. Maybe it is just about noticing. Being present to all that is here for me already.

....so, what do you think? Does it make you want to start noticing the jewels in your own life? I can guarantee they are there. It is not about the big "wow!" moments. Those are good, but the sustenance comes from finding joy in the moment. The mundane, everyday moments. And, when we find it there, we have less "need" for the other kinds of that the commercials want us to believe are only a purchase away.

If you'd like, feel free to leave a jewel or two in the comments!

Rules, Schmules...

I have read one too many posts on what artists should or should not do in their blog, and/or website. Face it, as a rule, artists are not generally so in love with the technology side of the web. When we are told all the things we should be doing, or that we are doing it wrong, the first impulse might rightly be to throw up our hands and say, "Forget it. I can't do that, so why even bother?"

I do a lot of things wrong according to the rules. And somehow, this blog goes on....

Post at least three times a week, and predictably. I post sporadically. Sometimes nearly every day, and then I may go a week or more without posting. "Good blogs" post at least three times a week.

Images. Lots of images. Make sure that people coming to your blog can see your work. I have a teensy excuse on this blog, since it is not exclusively about my work. But on my crane blog, I have a scarcity of images there as well. I guess for me, the blog is the words behind the work. Both the studio work, and the other work that an artist engages in on a regular basis. My website, on the other hand, is image rich and text poor. Together they fill out the picture.

Keep entries short. Too much text turns off readers. Sorry readers, but when I get on a roll I am not going to say, "Oops, I am at the third paragraph, I better tie this up here". I write about what is on my mind. If I can do that in three paragraphs...uh, five?....great. But more often than not it takes me more than that to process the idea and communicate it coherently.

Feeds, etc. I think there is an RSS feed somewhere on the page. Is it easy to find? I don't know. I don't even really know what an RSS feed is to tell you the truth. Could I do better with this part of things? Absolutely. Is it worth my time and money? I frankly don't think so right now. It is low, low, low on the list, and the list is long. Somehow, in spite of my absolute ignorance, and neglect here, people still find my blog, and even subscribe! I love you subscribers out there!

Hire someone to do your website. Broke this rule too. But I pay a bit more to get template options with my website host. It means I can update my web page regularly without having to write code. I am not going to learn code. I am not interested. But I want to be able to update my web page fairly frequently and easily. Is the template exactly the way I want? Nope. But it does the job. I compromise on layout, fonts, colors, etc so that I can at least have images on the web.

In the end, I would rather suffer the wrath and criticism and "just do it", than not do it for fear of doing it wrong. I have made plenty of mistakes along the way. I am continuing to make mistakes. I will tweak, and play and continue to evolve as I continue to work my blogs and my website. I don't want to do it totally by the rules, because in the end, it is mine. Just like I want my art work to reflect how I see the world, I want my blog to reflect my thoughts and experiences. I use Blogger because they are easy, and Google takes care of so many things for me that I do not want to learn. I will risk the imperfection.

How much of the writing about the rules of how we engage with this technology is shutting down voices that we would all benefit from hearing? Isn't this the benefit of the Internet? The rules are still evolving and we can decide how we want it to work for us?

Are you on the sidelines? Do you have a point of view, something you want to say or share? But the idea of doing it the wrong way is just not worth the risk? Trust me, it is. Go ahead and do it wrong, if you have the inkling of a desire. Do it the best way you are able with the time, money, and savvy that you can muster. And if someone tells you that you are clueless, nod in agreement. Yup, you are. But in spite of that you are blogging, or have a website, or whatever. And each day you are learning a little bit more.

The democracy of the web depends on us being able to do this imperfectly. I would rather see some one's amazing work or words up on the web without all the right feeds and widgets, and so on, than have them stay away because we built the technology wall too high.

Being open to learn new things is great. But feeling like we have to do it perfectly in order to do it at all is destructive. The way I look at it, we are about in kindergarten when it comes to the Internet. There is more time for recess than for dissertations. And everyone gets a turn, not just those who are at the front of the line.

Maintaining Critical Balance

One of the biggest challenges we face as people who rely on our creative output is to maintain the delicate balance between being creative, and engaging our critical eye. Too much in one direction, and we risk never reaching our potential in developing our technique or our design ability. Or, too much in the other direction, and we may never get beyond the sketching or thinking stage.

Criticism is a sharp knife. It can be used as a fine editing tool. Honing our design, refining our technique. All good chefs will tell you a well sharpened knife is an essential tool. A dull knife can make a mess of things, and make the job harder to accomplish. Without the critical eye looking at what we have done, we can only get so far. The critical eye can see the weaknesses that need shoring up, as well as the strengths that maybe should be amplified. It can see what is distracting and needs to be removed.

But that same sharp knife that can be a tool can turn into a weapon that shuts down our creative energy if we do not know how to rein it in properly.

Each needs it's time and place. Creativity is often best served by being unleashed without the critical constraints. Let it go where it wants to go, and play around and explore. Only when it reaches a resting point is it safe to let the critical forces out. Then it is time to step back from your creation, and see it as a product, an output, now removed from you, and ask, "What could be better?" This is not about whether you are an artist who is "good enough". It is about how you, where you are right now, can become better. How your work can become stronger. You are always good enough. But, your work can always be stronger. We never are at a point where our work is "perfect".

So, either alone, or with others, we must critique. Looking to see what worked, and what did not. How to make a piece even stronger than what we have already wrought. Without this important stage, we will never reach our full potential. Once we go through that stage of critiquing, we then need to tell the critical voices that their services are no longer needed for now, and we will call them back when we need them. Then we can get back to work, either reworking, or working anew on this idea that inspired us.

When we try to critique as we create, it is too easy to get caught up in out inadequacies when what we need to be doing, is getting caught up in the creative process. The other problem we often have is making the output of our creativity to be too precious. Our self-esteem becomes deeply entwined into the output. We can't hear the critique in a productive way, if our identity is enmeshed in our work. Our work is our work. It is not us. Some it is will be crap, and some of it will blow us away. We need to accept both for what they are, and learn from both. No one, not even the most amazing artist, whose work you adore, turns out one masterpiece after another. We all have a range. The challenge is to raise the quality overall....the junk is better than it used to be, and the best work gets better.

One of the important lessons I learned from the book Art & Fear, was the value of crappy work. This is when we can have fun. Take that piece that bombed, and have some fun. If you want to lose that sense of preciousness of your work, this is a perfect place to begin. Use those pieces as a place to learn. A place to explore and experiment, and to go places you wouldn't dare under normal circumstances. If you hate it, you can't ruin it. But you can have fun and learn.

The bottom line....The process of creating is precious. Protect it from the critics. The product is just product. It is not precious. It is not us. Let the critics come out and have their say when you are ready to pause. Listen. Notice. See it as a way to learn and grow. And then thank your critics for their input, and tell them to go back in their closet. And get back to having fun creating, testing, playing, experimenting..... Own the process. It is sacred. And control the critics, their weapons can be valuable tools or deadly weapons.

History Lesson

At the recent Synergy Conference, during one of the panel discussions, Elise Winters commented that it would be wonderful if people could see the drawer full of "stuff" that precedes a more fully developed design. Her message was that work does not emerge fully developed. It takes time, trial, error, and a whole lotta ugly sometimes, before a concept reaches a point of "wow".

When I was preparing for my presentation at the conference, I had about 80 artists respond to a survey I put together. One of the comments that stayed with me was about a wish to have kept better records of the development of their work over time. Photos, etc.

Perhaps this is why I felt compelled to spend several hours yesterday, making my own little archive. And as I approach five years of polymer clay addiction, it is probably timely. That, and the fact that I finally had gotten around to setting up a Flickr account.

I highly recommend the journey. While much of the older work is truly cringe worthy, it is also intriguing to me to see patterns emerge. By collecting a selection of images from the hundreds and hundreds on my computer I can see a story. Watching how an idea starts in a rough form, and gradually develops with time. This collection shows some of the development behind my jewelry designs.

When you look at the series of crane pictures, it demonstrate what happens when you do something over and over again. You get better at it. The same can be seen with the vessels.

The earliest work is all over the place. Yet, there are certain things that appealed to me then, and appeal to me still. Who I was as an artist exists within some of that early work. I just couldn't see where I wanted to go with it yet.

In a way it is like any scrapbook of photos. When we look at old pictures of ourselves we cringe at the hairstyles and the fashion. But we also marvel at our youth. Perhaps we looked better than we thought we did at the time. Likewise, I cringed at designs, at finishing, at the photos themselves. But, I also see things there that I still connect with. Or some element that I want to go back and revisit again sometime in the future. Possibilities to still be explored.

I hope, in addition to providing you with a few good laughs, you will also see some of the process of how work emerges and develops. And I hope that you will make your own little archive of your history as an artist. What Elise is doing with her Polymer Art Archives looks at the overall history of the media. Our personal history is full of information as well. Take some time, and look the virtual scrapbook of your work. What patterns emerge? Where have you grown? Is there anything there that you want to revisit and go deeper into?

Artist, Hobbyist, Professional, Amateur....or?

One of the best things about the Synergy conference is that it is generating discussions. Discussions that occurred at the conference, and discussions that are spilling over into the blogosphere. There is one going on right now that began with Susan Lumoto, at Polymer Clay Notes, and was picked up by Libby Mills, at her blog. I feel compelled to jump in.

I have used the words hobbyist and artist in the past to refer to people who create. But who is the hobbyist, and who is the artist? And who gets to decide? Likewise, what makes a person a professional?

Libby's post has caused me to consider when and how I use these terms. I could mean one thing, but someone else might receive it differently than I intended. What do I mean when I say artist? Who is a hobbyist? Are they mutually exclusive? Who is an amateur, and who decides who is a professional?

hob·by 1 /ˈhɒbi/
–noun, plural -bies.
1. an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or
relaxation and not as a main occupation: Her hobbies include stamp-collecting and woodcarving.

art·ist /ˈɑrtɪst/
–noun
1. a person who produces works in any of the arts that are primarily
subject to aesthetic criteria.

2. a person who practices one of the fine arts,
esp. a painter or sculptor.
3. a person whose trade or profession requires a
knowledge of design, drawing, painting, etc.: a commercial artist.
4. a person who works in one of the performing arts, as an actor, musician, or singer; a public performer: a mime artist; an artist of the dance.
5. a person whose work exhibits exceptional skill.
6. a person who is expert at trickery or deceit: He's an artist with cards.
7. Obsolete. an artisan.

according to dictionary.com

According to the dictionary definition, a hobbyist is someone who pursues something for fun or leisure. Yet, we can all think of someone whose hobby consumes their life. The job helps them make a living, but the hobby gives them a reason to get out of bed, or keeps them up late at night.

When I look at the definitions for artist, the verbs used to describe an artist is someone who is producing, practicing, working. There is a certain level of skill or knowledge implied in some of the definitions.

If I think about some of the presentations last week at the Synergy conference, being an artist is about achieving a certain level of workmanship, having a distinctive voice, and perhaps even wanting to tell a story with your work, or make some kind of a statement.

The problem I have with all of this, is I was calling myself an artist well before I reached any of those milestones. Was I wrong to call myself an artist? I certainly did not have the degree. I was not selling my work. My workmanship was not at a level I aspire to today.


Taking on the title of artist for myself, was an act of healing. An act of owning my passion and embracing it fully. It was the realization that someone does not confer the title "Artist" onto you like the Queen confers knighthood. No one taps you on the shoulder with a paintbrush. The title comes from inside. For me, owning the title was the renewal of a journey.

From the time I was a little girl, sitting on the front steps with my pad of paper and pencil drawing a picture, I have been an artist, whether I called myself that or not. Working and working to learn how to do a better job drawing a face, or a tree. I did it because I had to do it.

What about professional versus amateur? In general, whether it is in the arts, or any other area, professionals are paid, amateurs are not. Yet, look at the endorsements recieved by Olympic athletes, who are probably at the peak of their athletic performance. By the rules, they are amateurs, in spite of these endorsements and the paychecks that come along with that. No wonder we get confused by these terms.

For me, when I began to sell my work, I began to look at my work through another set of eyes. I began to ask, "Is this at a quality level that someone would pay for?" Eventually, I saw that having a voice or distinctive style, was something that benefited me in the marketplace. It created a signature to my work. In the production work, a deeper understanding of the material was gained. Time spent working with the clay led to more ideas for me, than sitting down to stare at the empty table, pondering what to make today.

I guess it is not so much about whether or not you are selling your work that makes one a professional. Maybe it is more about embracing the idea of trying to do the best work that you can. Looking with a critical eye at your own work, not to judge your adequacy or inadequacy as an artist, but instead, to see if you can do better. Perhaps it is aspiring to a level of excellence, versus accepting "good enough" as your standard.


My kids are very tall. There was no avoiding this given their genetic make-up. They are at an age where this fact gets pointed out to them regularly by their peers. It occurred to me the other day, as my younger daughter talked about people reacting to her height at a visit to a new school, that the observation is not about the how tall she is. It is about what height seems to represent. Taller equals older, more powerful, in control. Adults can be all those things when you are a kid, and adults are nearly always taller than kids.


When people point out to my daughter that she is taller, they are reacting perhaps to what that represents for them. Is this person older? Is she more powerful? No. Not by virtue of her height at least. But sometimes people have to process a subconscious reaction to her height by pointing it out. She knows she is tall. But the other person has to figure out what that means for them. This is where the need to comment comes from.

Perhaps the need to categorize someone as an artist or hobbyist is more about where we place ourself. It may be a way of saying we have crossed a line that we have established, and by categorizing others, we are trying to say where we fall on the spectrum between hobbyist and artist. Who do we consider to be our peers? But for some, artist may imply someone who takes themselves too seriously. For someone else, hobbyist maybe someone who doesn't take their art seriously enough. But, maybe they are both wrong. Maybe we are the only ones who can decide where we lie on the spectrum. And maybe, we can be both at various times.

I am not sure there is a clear cut way to use these words without potentially stepping on someone's toes. But perhaps thinking about our intent, and why we are using a word is a starting point. And on the receiving end, if it strikes you that someone has implied something with the use of these words that seems misplaced, ask them what they meant. They may not have an answer right off the bat. But at least the question might make them think about it a bit more deeply. Just like Libby made me think. BTW, Libby, I think you are an artist who just happens to not want to have a business selling your work.

Rest, Process and Integrate

I am still trying to process all that happened in Baltimore at the Synergy Conference. There are lots of summaries and reviews everywhere on the web. Since I took so few notes, I am not going to be much help with any details, for those of you who could not make it. But, I can offer some impressions....


1. Energy. There is nothing so electric as more than 200 people in a conference room who are all passionate about the same material. People who are at the forefront of the medium, and people who are virtually brand new. The trip to Baltimore was worth it just to be present in that conference room with all those people.


2. More thoughts on Energy. Synergy was a marathon. There was so much to offer, and so little time to absorb. So many people to connect with. So little time for a real conversation. I ended up skipping three of the seven classes I signed up for. On Monday afternoon I took the afternoon off to work on my presentation for the next day, and then ended up having a lovely conversation with Mari, whom I had not seen since I took a class with Kathleen Dustin back in 2004. No sooner did I leave that conversation, with the intent to head back to the hotel and work on that presentation, and I got snagged for a quick webcast interview. It will be posted on You Tube when it is done, so I will let you know when it is up there.


I eventually did get to the hotel, and did a quick review of my presentation, before I had to head back to the conference center. I missed the preview of the gallery, but it was worth taking a little time out to rest, and to connect.


3. Voice. A big topic at the conference, was finding your voice. This is easier said than done, of course. One reason why I do not take classes anymore, and I only took one, was because I find it is too easy to pick up the "accent" or "dialect" of the instructor.

My brother hated French in high school and struggled with it. He moved to French speaking Quebec after college for several years. He came back home with a French accent. He eventually lost that, but picked up a Boston accent, which he never had growing up in the area. I share this story as an illustration. Some people are very vulnerable to picking up someone's accent without even consciously thinking about it. If I sit down and talk with Leslie Blackford for more than five minutes, I will walk away talking like her for at least the next minute or two. I find her accent enchanting, and musical. I have to stop myself from continuing the charade of speaking like Leslie.


I do not want to carry another artist in my head for too long. Others can stay true to themselves without any problem. It is not easy, and sometimes we have to walk away from temptation.


4. There is nothing like meeting people face to face. Over and over again people exclaimed at putting the face with the name that had become so familiar on-line. Surprises that few "look like their work". "I thought you would be shorter, taller," .....or that the work would be bigger or smaller. I can't think of another time when so many polymer clay artists gathered in one spot and had a chance to meet and greet. Having a face and a voice to put with the name, or the blog, or the message on a forum will enrich connections for many.


5. Getting so many people together and having a conversation about things like workmanship, voice, our history as a medium, and it's influences, and where it is going is a wonderful idea. Opinions may not have changed, but at least we were thinking about it, and looking at our medium as something that can fit into the larger context of craft. It is a wonderful hobby medium since it is so accessible, but it also has the potential to extend far beyond that, and some of the people in that room are pushing those boundaries.


6. I had a blast teaching. This was a bit of a surprise. I found people were engaging, and did a wonderful job of adding to the material I was presenting. So "thank you" to any and all who attended either of my classes. It was fun!


7. Rest, Process, and Integrate. The next days, weeks and months will be about processing, resting and integrating what I learned, saw and heard at Synergy. Things will simmer and perculate in the coming days and weeks I am sure. Resting will have to wait a few more days. I have too many commitments on the calendar for too much rest right now.


8. Self-care. I found myself often needing a bit of time alone or quiet time in the day. Perhaps when you get used to working in isolation most of the time, three long days of classes and socializing is more than can be absorbed. I never made it down to the ACC show in the convention center, which is a shame, since I was right there. The schedule was tight, and when I had a bit of time, the last thing I wanted was more visual stimulation. In the past I would have pushed through and ignored my need for this time, but by skipping a few classes, and spending a bit of time alone, or talking with a friend one-on-one, I was better able to enjoy the moments I chose to participate. We really don't have to "do it all" to get the most out of an experience.


9. The "wow" of the new. Over and over, I heard exclaimations of excitement about Kathleen Dustin's new work, Ford + Forlano's new work, and I was excited to see new work from Judy Kuskin. Even when an artist has a strong, recognizable style, such as these polymer clay luminaries, it is important to continue to explore new terrain. Many others had new work at the show as well. Loretta Lam talked about developing several new lines of work before she headed to the Rosen show in Philadelphia, and what a wonderful response it received. This is the "continuous improvement" of the artrepreneur. What have you done lately?


Time to get the butt back in the studio chair. I missed my studio, and my family. It is good to be home.

Thank you to the extremely hard working people who put together, and managed to pull off an incredible event. Kudos all around.

Hammer and Nail

Have you heard the expression, "if the only tool you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail"? I think if you immerse yourself deeply enough into your media, the world starts to get translated by what you can do with that medium.

Today I went to the first day of my print making class. I have been interested in printmaking for a long time, but it never seemed to come together. Either the class was cancelled due to low enrollment, or the timing didn't work with my schedule. I am excited about the possibilities of playing around with this new process. It can't be too surprising that I was quickly jumping to the conclusion that I could create print plates with polymer clay. :-)

I find the books I buy, and the classes I am most interested in taking are seldom ones that are directly about polymer clay. There is something about exploring a new media and the ways in which it is used that makes me rethink my familiar ground.

It is like when you travel to a new place. The sights, sounds, smells, tastes, colors are all new. There is so much to take in. It heightens your awareness. When you get back to familiar, and comfortable ground, some of the new is bound to seep in. There is a new appreciation for that home ground, but there is also a fresh perspective, a new insight. For me, this idea of looking in unfamiliar places is the best way to keep my creative juices flowing.

I may just end up playing for several weeks with this new process. And I don't know which way the influence will go.....will polymer clay influence my printmaking process, or will printmaking influence my polymer clay work? Either way, I am looking forward to this creative holiday. I be sure to share some of what I create along the way.

The Mystery Revealed....

I alluded to a Big Hairy Audacious Goal (BHAG) in my last post. The thing about BHAG's is that they are a bit scary. Big + Hairy = Scary. And Audacious. As in, "What are you thinking?" Or, "Who do you think you are?" So is it any wonder that I was not quite ready to reveal the exact nature of my BHAG?

Well, I have begun to let a few people peak under the covers. I have made a few tentative steps to let a little air around the idea. And in the process I have learned something. As Big, Hairy, (Scary), and Audacious (Bold) as this idea may be, or any BHAG for that matter, without letting it out into the air, it will probably never happen. Trying to protect ourselves by keeping the idea close only makes it less likely that the idea will move forward. Sending those first few e-mails emboldened me. It made me realize that the only way that this idea would happen is if I let the BHAG out of the bag, and let the universe give it some momentum.

If you know anything about me, and my work, you may have suspected that it has something to do with cranes. And you would be right. When this BHAG first started to form in my head, it was the idea that I would love to see 1000 cranes made from polymer clay, all together in an installation. It immediately went into the "Nice idea, as if that would ever happen" file. But every now and then, I would bring it out and reflect on the idea. Yep. It would be cool. Back in the file.

But recently the idea has taken a bit of a turn, and given it some new propulsion. It feels like something I have to do.

My BHAG is this; I want to create a crane for each soldier who has lost their life in Iraq. Each crane will be made from translucent clay, and on each wing their will be a name, the date the soldier died, where in Iraq they died, and how (hostile/non-hostile, IED, mortar, illness, ....). I want to have all these cranes, at least 4000 of them, all together in one space. Ideally a white room. Arranged by date. As you pass through the exhibit, you pass by the lives that have been lost. Each one ennumerated in a crane.

The crane is a powerful symbol for this idea in my mind. As a symbol of peace, and a symbol of long life, it will honor each of these men and woman. Regardless of our feelings about the war, or the soldier's feelings about being there, they are lives that need to be recognized and honored. A decision was made that led to this massive loss of life, which pales in comparison to the loss of Iraqi lives. The war has faded into the background. It goes on in spite of a general sense from many that the continuation of the war makes no sense. I want a visual image of these lives. I want to recognize them, and recognize the price of this political decision.

Some will hate this idea. That is okay. This is just something that I know I need to do. It comes from my heart.

I plan to start a new blog. One that will track this project. The ups and downs and ins and outs. The count of lives. The count of cranes. I will eventually start a way to raise funds to support this project. More will come about that later.

The biggest obstacle, .....aside from making all those cranes!!....is finding a place to install a project like this. This is the universe part. I am making this public so that as this project unfolds, a place may emerge. Perhaps several.

I will still post here.

I know.

"How does she find the time?"

I don't know. I just don't worry about that. The time will take care of itself. I will fold the cranes, as I continue on with my other work and the rest of my life. Stay tuned.....






Pretty Big and Audacious, huh? I think the hairiness diminished a bit by letting it out of the bag. I am more sure I need to do this, and that eventually it will happen.

The Idea that Won't Go Away

Have you ever had an idea for something, something so big, so impossible, that you want to be able to just walk away from it? I have had just such an idea for about two years now. And every time it comes up, I think, "Well that's silly. How in the world would you make that happen?" And I move on. At least for a while.

What seems to happen, is that the idea keeps resurfacing. And each time it takes on a little more substance. In the last few days, it has gotten bones. A structure. It doesn't look quite so impossible. Or so outlandish.

Now this is one of those "BIG" ideas. What some people call a BHAG. A Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal. It means stepping into completely unfamiliar territory to make it happen. It means it has been hard for me to wrap my head around how I could possibly make it happen.

But then, at the same time, I know that others have done things that are comparable. Knowing this doesn't mean it is easy, or that it will ultimately be doable by me. But it does mean that it is possible. And if it is possible, and it keeps coming back to me, perhaps I need to take it seriously.....and in the process, take myself seriously too.

Isn't that what we are doing when we have an Impossible Dream. We may want to believe it is impossible. It means it just can't be done. Because then we can comfortably walk away. But each time this dream comes up for me, I know, somewhere in the back of my mind, that others have done comparable things. It is possible, and it is not going away. But, I have just not been ready. And that is where the truth lies. Having these dreams means stretching outside what is familiar and known. Holding on to them means we want to see if we can make them happen someday. We recognize our current limitations, but we are not silly to dream these dreams. Even if we dare not admit the details of our dreams to anyone!

As this idea is taking a more concrete form in my head over the last few days, I am seeing various pieces of things that have been out there floating around as vague ideas, starting to coalesce. It still feels pretty impossible. But I also feel like I want to start to push the idea from an idea into becoming something more tangible.

I am researching things like installations, venues, fundraising, grants. The actual art work is completely within my capabilities, although it will be time consuming, and I may need to enlist some help because of the simple scale of this idea. How to take this idea, this thought, and make it into a reality is the challenge. It may never happen. But I am going to begin to take some steps to try to make it work.

My first step is to write this here. To admit to myself and the world, that I am ready and willing to begin to explore this new territory. The details of the dream are less important than this shift that has happened in me. That is where our greatest barriers often lie. Inside. I will admit to being scared, and overwhelmed. But, I have to say there is also a certain amount of glee and sheer excitement about simply saying "yes". Yes, this is worth exploring. This is worth investing some time and energy to see where you can take it. Wish me luck! And if you know of any grant money around.....

Competitive Advantage

In business school, especially in marketing, there is a lot of talk about competitive advantage. Positioning yourself or your product to achieve competitive advantage in the market place. In the world of art or craft, no one uses words like that. But, an issue that is always able to stir up interest actually may be all about competitive advantage.

Voice. Your creative voice. In the end, finding your own voice, your style, your own unique way of expression is ultimately the best way to create competitive advantage.

Let's step away from art or craft for a minute, and talk about cola, or tissues, or diapers. Do you think of Coke(TM), Kleenex(TM), or Pampers(TM)? Each of these companies created an identity so strong for their products, that their brand name is virtually synonymous with the product name. Certainly, we can all name products that compete with each of these businesses, but they do not spring to mind as quickly as these.

Back to the world of art. Vincent Van Gogh, Monet, Andy Warhol, Jackson Pollack. Do you get an immediate visual image with each of these names? I do. These artist each have a voice that is strong and recognizable, that in business terms could be called brand identity.

When I started out selling my work, my focus was on technique. I thought it was all about being good at doing something. Well, that only carries you so far. What truly creates competitive advantage in the business of craft is having a distinctive voice. Kim Cavender is actually running a contest right now that is all about this very thing. Identify the artist for the images shown in her blog post.

By developing a strong and distinctive voice, you will not only have your work become recognizable, but, anyone copying your work will be seen as doing just that. There are painters who are masterly at creating technically accurate copies of another artists work. And much can be learned in that process. But, it is the difference between Coke, and the store brand cola. It will never have the same perceived value in the broader market as the original. Sure, there are plenty of people who might be very satisfied with a brilliantly executed copy at a reduced price. But, will the copyist every reach the same degree of satisfaction in the creation of the work as the originator? And, it will never be valued as highly as the work of the originator.

This past weekend, I attended an open house for a school we are looking at for my younger daughter. This school is very unique in it's approach and philosophy. It follows the guidelines of an essential school. Students do not get letter grades. They build a portfolio of work. They get a narrative assessment of their work. And they are evaluated on a gradient of learning....a learning curve if you will. Everyone starts out as "Just Beginning". You are not expected to master the work when you are just beginning. Mistakes are welcome. They are part of the learning process. Things are learned with practice and experience. Eventually, typically over a period of two years, a student will reach a point of mastery, where expectations are met, and they are ready to move onto a higher level.

When we start our in our craft or our artwork, we are just beginning. We practice and refine our skills by copying that which has come before us. Eventually, we may tire of a technique we master, and then move onto another technique and master that. I recently heard an interview with Nick Lowe, the musician, who described this process beautifully. He talked about how as a musician learn, they mimic the work of other musicians whose work they admire. There is something in that artist's work they connect with. Then they move onto another artist, and another, and another. But at some point, they stop looking outside to learn. They take the pieces that they have learned, and start taking parts of them and putting them together in new and different ways. It is not always about reinventing as much as rethinking. Combining things together in a way that others may not have explored. Taking the pieces that speak to your heart, and inspire you, and putting them together in a way that feels right for you.

I think this quote from Marc Chagall sums it up nicely,

"If I create from the heart,
nearly everything works.
If I create from the head,
almost nothing."

Where are you on the continuum of just beginning to mastery? Have you begun to discover your competitive advantage?