I’ve been an artist for 8 years now. In that time, I’ve exhibited, taught classes, sold directly and through galleries, created residential and corporate commissions, shown at fairs, rented a gallery showroom, been a part of a creative community, had an art coach, collaborated with retail partners, evolved my techniques, and honed my skills. Sounds impressive to say I suppose. But the other side of the story is not to be overlooked or edited out: inconsistent sales, non-linear growth, unpredictable opportunities, show rejections, failed paintings, expensive supplies, periodic imposter syndrome and hours of showing up to barely-attended events. It’s nothing personal, just the life of an ordinary artist.
Is that too honest? I hope so. I think it's important to not just present the "highlight" reel of our experiences. It's easy to romanticize a life of being an artist, and while I love living it, it's challenges can be felt to the core, especially for us sensitive types. What I share here is not to complain, but to speak plainly about what it's really like, including the mess. Because one day, you get back-to-back show rejections, and the next day you're asked to put together a proposal for 14 artworks for a high-profile resort. Hence the ride.
To consistently create is to have faith, respect the practice, honor that inner need of bringing a vision into reality, and value your work. You cannot predict when the next sale comes, or if you get into that call for art - you can only show up, manage your mindset, and pour yourself into your work from a place of authentic expression vs. what you think people will like. There isn’t a guaranteed path to “success”, but instead a letting go. Some of my biggest projects have come from out of the blue - an email from an interior designer who found me online, or a friend of a friend who thought my work would be a good fit, opportunities completely outside my control, or even sphere of awareness. I have learned to trust that as long as I continue to put myself out there, my collectors will find me, and in the meantime, my job is to create what lights me up to the best of my ability.
But it’d be misleading of me to make it sound that simple. Self-doubt from dry months can quickly lead to a downward spiral of scarcity and desperation. This is the not-so-fun part of the wild ride that you have to course-correct and dig yourself out of. Enter self-reliance, community and self-care. Sometimes this shows up as taking a break. Sometimes it’s doing something small that brings a sense of accomplishment like cleaning the studio or admin work or wiring canvases. Taking action can combat the overwhelm. This is also where community helps, like talking to other artists who have been there (because they all have)! In my most recent slump, I focused on my physicality by turning to the gym, taking long walks, listening to podcasts about mindset, doing breathwork, and getting more intentional about what I was feeding myself. Although they might not seem art-related on the surface, these acts helped to ground me, release tension, feel more energetic and empower myself. Time and time again, only when I am able to get to that place, do opportunities and sales flow. This is the hard-learned lesson.
It’s a vulnerable thing to put your work out there, which is why there’s no room to take things personally. Just like everyone doesn’t like country music or horror movies, not everyone will like your work. You have to get a sacred high from the actual process of creating in the studio, and when someone does connect with your work and feels compelled to invest in it, it’s a bonus. These are the moments when art transcends, when self-expression becomes connection, when gratitude swells for the privilege to impact environments for decades.
In the beginning, I said yes to every opportunity, but have since honed in on my preferences and what I’m willing to trade my time for. These days, it’s a balance of creating collections from the heart, showing with galleries and painting commissions. This wild ride hasn’t been linear, straightforward or consistent, and it’s certainly not for the faint-hearted, but I’m a happier person for birthing artistic visions into being, storytelling in a way I never could with words, and connecting with others - and most importantly, myself - through art. In a recent TedTalk, Aimee McNee implores to artists to keep creating because “the world needs your art” for the well-being of us all. I hear you Aimee. And that is where you’ll find me: with ticket enthusiastically paid, seatbelt fastened, riding the peaks and valleys. It's no different than life in general that way, right?
Cheers from the studio,
Jul