This Little Light of Mine

You know the song, ..."This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine." Usually it is a group a adorable preschoolers or kindergarteners singing it. And all the admiring adults are hoping that they do let their little lights shine. We want them to grow in to the perfect and wonderful beings they have started to become.

But then, somewhere along the line, the light begins to diminish. Those same people sitting in the audience and beaming at those adorable kids have begun to temper the dreams and aspirations of those same beings with reality. Of course this is done to protect them. But the consequence of all this protection can be that light loses some oxygen and begins to fade.

My dad was an engineer. But when I was young, he used to paint. And he was really quite good. He could sit down and do some amazing sketches. I was in awe, and inspired. I remember watching him paint or draw, and wanting to be able to do that too. And I would spend many, many hours drawing pictures. My parents sent me to several art classes along the way, which I remember to this day. They were feeding something inside of me that was so essential to who I was. I was desperately absorbing as much as I could out of these experiences.

When I grew up, I wanted to be an artist.

But as I grew up other messages began to be absorbed. My dad stopped painting. To this day, I don't know why. And he is not around to ask. When I voiced my aspirations, I was told that this was a difficult path. I might not want to do that. It might be better to keep it a hobby. Only those who are really good can succeed at it. (You can spot the implication there, can't you?) All of this was done with the love and need to protect that we all feel as parents. It is hard to watch a child struggle, especially if we see a perfectly good, and easier path for them to follow.

At school, I was a good student. In particular, I was good at math and science. There are lots of good paying jobs that one can pursue with math and science. Not only was this message coming from home, but also at school. When it was time to figure out what I was going to do after high school, that little light still wanted to go to art school. But it could not compete with all the other voices in my head, and from the adults around me.

So I went to an engineering school and studied chemistry. By my junior year I realized I hated my choice, but did not see a way out at that point. I began taking business classes to create some new alternatives in my life. I liked marketing because it gave me room to be creative. When I graduated with my degree in chemistry, I went to work selling industrial gases. In Cleveland. Where I did not know a soul.

While I was in school, I was at least able to take some art classes. Yes they do have them at engineering schools! But once I was out of school, and trying to adapt to a new environment, I started to lose touch with that side of me. I began to take some classes here and there. It was my way of grounding myself. Unconsciously reconnecting with who I was. But I would not let myself take any of that seriously. Compliments from instructors or other students would not fully penetrate the armor I had built up by then.

I went on to get an MBA. Work in several different companies. Pursuing the jobs that I thought would make me happy. Changing companies to try and fix what was wrong. But none of those things worked. I still was only my happiest when I was creating.

But I still would not allow myself to see that this was my light that needed to shine.

It was only when I had kids, and gave myself permission to leave that world that the process of reconnecting began. That, several wonderful books, lots of work, and some therapy, have all helped me find and nuture that light.

So, how bright is your little light these days? Could it use some oxygen?

Try this out. Begin to write down the bits of your story. The parts where you learned your light was not as important as someone else's light. Or that it didn't quite shine the right way. Or that it was just plain silly. Write them all down. Put each one a separate piece of paper. And put them in a box. This may be something that you do in a day. Or for years. You can even decorate the box if you want! And this is not just for artists. Whatever light you

Now the object is to then take out a piece of paper and read each one. One by one. And ask yourself, "is this true"? "Do I have to believe this or hold on to this?" You may not be ready to let go of some of them yet. Some of them may be so deeply embedded into your sensibility by now that you can not see them, or let go of them yet. But when you are ready. Throw it away. Rip it up. Burn it. Get rid of it in anyway you choose. But let it go. Get rid of it, and you will start to feed a bit more oxygen to your light.

You know what is going to be in your head today...."this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."

It is not just for kindergarteners. Let your light out. Let it shine.

Color Travel

When I start to create a new piece, I nearly always start out with the question, "What is this one going to be?" I am surprised at how often a color, or color scheme that is my launching point for a piece. This is especially true when I am making cranes. But it also true with the vessels or the jewelry at times.

After my oldest daughter was born, I began a business making custom window treatments at home. I had been in the corporate world for about 13 years, in sales and marketing. But I hated my job, and traveled way too much. So I left that all behind. And began my journey into the entrepreneurial world.

There were several valuable things I got from the five years I spent doing window treatments. First off, I gained confidence in my ability to launch my own business. Secondly, I expanded my color vocabulary, and absorbed lots of patterns and designs. Color was so essential to what I was doing. And I was working in palettes that were not in my personal taste. But I had to "make it work". And I did. I began to fully appreciate the nuances of color when I began to try to find just the right fabric to go with someone's room.

I saw color combinations in fabrics that I never would have imagined, but that worked. It gave me courage to experiment more with color. I learned how colors interacted and played off of one another. And I learned how to distribute color in a room to give it a balanced feel. I found out that I was good at seeing the subtleties of color, and educating my customer about these undertones of color.

One of the other things I absorbed in this journey, was how often colors have associations. They may bring to mind emotions, or seasons. But I also believe they can evoke a sense of place. The cool blues, beiges and silvery grays of Scandinavia. The dusty, muted tones of an old English estate. Red, black and gold often bring to mind Asian art for me. Think tropics, and you may think of lush greens, vibrant reds, pinks, yellows. When I think of saffron, fuschia, teal and gold, I think of my friend's beautiful embroidered silk saris.

This can help me come up with inspiration at times. All I need is a color to begin the process. From there, I may think about a place to create the full palette and the tone. And then pattern or design follows suit.

Try a little color travel in your play some day. Think of a place you want to visit in your imagination, and bring that place to life in a color palette. You'd be amazed at the places you can go in an afternoon of color travel.

If want to know and understand more about color, check out the new blog by Maggie Maggio....Smashing Color. http://www.maggiemaggio.com/color/ I am learning more each time I visit.

Group Hug

Groups can have infinitely more power than the individual. And artists, by nature, work in isolation. This isolation can be part of how we create. That time alone allows our creative voice to be heard. But when it comes to the business side of being and artist/craftsperson....that isolation can be deadly.

Many years ago, in my corporate incarnation, I found that the time spent talking with others about ideas or projects was often helpful. They might know something about what you are doing and be able to lend insight, or a shortcut, or steer you around possible problems. Also there was that annual process of setting goals. As much as I dreaded it each year, it did help to have a target. Something that you were working towards, that you could measure your success against. When you are working alone, it is easy to skip that process.

Last January, I began meeting with a group of artists, brought together by fellow polymer clay artist, Amy Crawley. We were mostly working in different media, and all had different products. But we shared a common goal of wanting to make our businesses more successful, and to figure out the best way to do that.

We had help. Alyson Stanfield has a free artist marketing program for groups to follow. http://www.artbizconnection.com/ The groups need to be made up of at least three committed members. They meet for at least nine sessions. And Alyson provides an agenda, and background information for each meeting. Amy recruited six other artists, and we began meeting last January. Only one person had to leave the group because of time constraints. But the rest of us came together every few weeks, and over time became a tight knit group.

There were things that Alyson tells you to do, that most of us would just as soon skip over. The 30 second, and 10 second introductions for one. But Amy stuck to the program, and it paid off. We all became better at being able give that succinct intro to a stranger, or shop/gallery owner. Practice does make things easier.

And we set goals. Where did we want to be in a year? In five years? We shared these goals, out loud, with one another. It is one thing to think about these questions. It is another to write them down. But the real power comes from verbalizing them to others. It requires courage and trust. But it also means that you are accountable on some level. And you have support. When you share your goals, you now have the eyes, ears and wisdom of the group to help you along the way.

We have all grown in many ways. Our businesses have grown. Our confidence as business women has increased. We have learned more about standard business practices in this world of fine art and craft. We now have a group to go to when we have a question. An email out to the group usually generates several responses in a few hours. And for those more prickly issues, there is an active discussion. Ultimately, we as individuals still make the decisions about what we do. But, we have had the opportunity to talk with others, and sort through our options. And they know first hand, the issues we each face. Our spouses may be supportive and knowledgeable, but they don't necessarily have the knowledge and experience in the world we travel.

Our group continues to meet, beyond the nine meetings suggested by Alyson. This month we will be inviting some other artists to join us for brunch, and to share what it is we learned by working together like this. Perhaps some new groups will be born that day. Given my own experience, I hope so.

Check out the work of my fellow artisans:

Amy Crawley: polymer clay and mixed media artist
www.moonroomcrafts.com
Gayle Joseph: Ceramics
www.stillriverpottery.com
Deb Malone: decorative painting, and now, soups!
www.debs-islandchairs.com
Martha Munroe: fine artist and 3-D images
www.studiomvm.com
Linda Williamson: Photography
www.lindawilliamsonphotography.com

And a big group hug goes out to all of them.

Resolve

Resolve to have fun this year. Resolve to do something you love to do, but never seem to have the time to do anymore. Make it managable. Read one book. Paint one picture. Laugh nearly every day.

This wisdom is from a sermon I heard some 11 or 12 years ago by Unitarian Universalist minister Patrick O'Neill, who at the time was the senior minister at the First Parish of Framingham, MA. Too often the resolutions we make are to fix what is wrong. We focus our lense intently on our flaws, and fail to celebrate life and what is good in us and in others. Some things don't need to be fixed. They are perfect just the way they are. And maybe if we spent a little less time fixing up what is failing, we would have more time to enrich what is so wonderful in each of us.

So when you sit down to make a list, or as you ponder the idea of a resolution while you rush through your life, think about what makes you special. What brings you joy? Resolve to focus a bit more on that this year. You would be surprised at how much power to deal with our imperfections is gained by strengthening that which is already quite wonderful about us. And if you are stuck by this question, find someone who can help you answer the question. Or, think about what you loved to do when you were a kid. Chances are, whatever that was, some version of it will still bring you happiness today.

This year, grow a little joy, and spread it around.