What Success Means to Me

"How did it go?" or "how was it?" are a questions I often hear from neighboring artists after a big open studio event. The real question being asked is "did you sell anything?" but this question is rarely asked directly. Many of my non-artist friends though, who I am sure only have my best interests at heart and don't know how hard it is to sell big paintings, cut to the chase with: "did you sell anything?" When I explain that no I didn't sell anything but yes the event went great, I feel like they don't really understand how something that did not result in sales could be "great."

Two Fridays ago, we had our big Spring open studio event at Winter Street Studios. We had a lot of traffic and many visitors. I met lots of new people, caught up with friends and returning visitors, and had meaningful conversations about my art with several people. The event introduced my work to many new viewers who will come to my shows and, who knows, may eventually buy a painting or two. I was thrilled to sell two small paintings, but the event would also have been a success if I had not.

Sure, I need to make money from my artwork. This is not a hobby for me, it is my career. It is also something I would do whether I needed to support myself doing something non-art related for the rest of my life (although I hope that is not the case). I have tried hard to do other things than be an artist but this is all I really want to do and it is something I cannot not do.

Every day I get to make art is a successful day for me. Every time I get to show my art is a successful day. Every time someone enjoys or "gets" my art is a successful day. Every day that I do not give up on doing what I love and was put on earth to do is a successful day.

What We Do Is Secret

I am gearing up for the big ART. - A Spring Artist Exhibition coming up this Friday night at Winter Street and Spring Street Studios where we will open our studios so people can check us out in our natural habitat. I will have a preview of some of my new stuff including Cover Me, which is not nearly as washed out as this picture would have you believe. I have a bit of a like/not like relationship with open studio events. I enjoy meeting people, explaining the intent behind my work, my process, how I get my lines so straight, etc. I also enjoy hearing impressions of what my paintings remind them of and, of course, love the exposure and sales that result from a open studio event.

I am not as inclined though to share the actual physical process of making art.
My workspace is cluttered with reference photos, tracings, color swatches, sketchbooks, notes to myself, and a picture of my mom. The idea of someone looking through my stuff feels like an invasion of privacy. I keep hearing over and over again that people want to see the behind the scenes aspects of how artwork gets made. I certainly understand the curiosity but I think there is some value to keeping things mysterious. If people knew how much boring, repetitive work was involved and what a small role inspiration plays in making art they would be very disappointed! Because of this, I have dual studios, one at home and one at Winter Street.

My studio at Winter Street is like a model showroom, while my tiny home studio, seen here, is the factory where the work gets done. It's noisy (NPR All Songs Considered or Pandora), messy (piles of paper, palettes of wet paint, canvases and cat hair), and my secret refuge. Only me, the cats, and with express written permission, my husband, are allowed in there. At Winter Street everything is tidy and organized, and a welcoming sign says "C'mon In!" If you're in the area, do come in. I promise you, fantasy is much better than reality.