The Measure of the Artist

The question of artistic success is one that has plagued artists for centuries, and often weighs heavily on me as an artist.  I wonder whether what I'm doing makes a difference in the world, or whether the simple creation of a piece of art is valuable absent a monetary amount that someone is willing to pay for it.  Of course, pricing one's work is a whole other animal that is similarly problematic, and I recently faced this when I created a commissioned piece for a fellow Albany-dweller. 

We had spoken of the piece and I produced a rough sketch along with a discussion of the work's meaning, as well as a ballpark price.  Once I had completed the work, I realized it did not take me as long as I had projected, and, having used an hourly rate as a basis for pricing my work for a number of years now, I quoted a lower price.  My commissioner (and artistic supporter) immediately let me know how foolish this was, and told me to leave the hourly rate for my "survival job," stating that as far as the artistic work goes, if I can do it, I can, whether it takes me 15 minutes or 15 years.  Quite encouraging, I'd have to say. 

So back on to success -- certainly, having had a piece of art commissioned and sold, I felt momentarily more successful as an artist.  But does this mean that if several months pass from this point without another commission or original piece sold, that I will feel less successful?  Possibly.  Or will I feel successful as long as I am creating work?

In 2012 I completed two pieces.  For this, there were a number of factors.  In 2013, I created 12, one of which spanned three large canvas panels.  I figured that as long as I am creating one piece a month, with a full-time job that is unrelated to my artwork, I'm doing pretty well.   It is now March of the next year, and I have created three pieces, one of which I am not completely sure is finished.  This is my first experience of having to put a piece away in hopes to come back to it later with fresh and clearer perspective.  Does this mean I have reached the depths of what it is to be an artist?  Or does it mean I am working at too surface a level?  I don't know.  But I do know that in 2009, when I was not working full time, I created 20 pieces of art, and none were as sophisticated as the work I am doing now.

And I guess the biggest measure of personal success is really only individual feeling, anyway.  I just keep reminding myself: art is slow. 

And I do feel successful.

"The Time Is Almost", 4"x4", cut paper on wood panel

 

"Song Springs Devotion", 6"x6", cut paper on wood panel

New Illustrations

I'm focusing time this year on moving into the children's book market.  One step I've taken is to create collage pieces that clearly move through a known story: Aesop's "The Crow and the Pitcher."  I've added a snipe to the story in a reenvisioning of the classic fable, and for an element of competition.  In keeping with my M.O., each piece contains the four natural elements in some form, and the birds are totem animals.  I'd be interested to hear your thoughts and comments, if you'd like to post them.

Overcoming Obstacles I - © 2013 Nicolette Callaway
5"x5" cut paper on canvas

 

 

 

Overcoming Obstacles II - © 2013 Nicolette Callaway
5"x5" cut paper on canvas

Overcoming Obstacles III - © 2013 Nicolette Callaway
5"x5" cut paper on canvas

The Path

My most recent piece, The Path, is a triptych, spanning three 8"x10" canvasses.  It is on display for just a few more days at Stage 1 of the Albany Barn, and I recommend checking it out in person if you can.

The Path I began while I was recently in Austin, TX.  Vultures and hawks are commonplace on roads and in the air, about as common as falcons and hawks are in the northeast.  The interesting thing about vultures is that they are about purification, of moving through one part of the life cycle (death) into the next (birth; sustainability).  The deer is about innocence, of politeness, beauty, grace.  Hawk is a messenger, a protector of the air, and is associated with temperance.  The gryphon, while a mythological creature, is a guardian, a conduit, on the path toward spiritual enlightenment.  As the viewer moves his or her eyes from left to right across these three canvasses, he/she can read this path.  It is not a death of innocence, but a movement out of -- the innocence sustains the vultures, which purify and move it forward into something else, something weightier, from land, through fire and water, and into air.  The hawks watch over and protect during this transition, and the gryphon is present at the end to urge and guide, representing ultimate spiritual enlightenment, a self-awakening.

I welcome any and all thoughts on what you as a viewer may have read from this piece.  Artist intention is only one part of the artistic process.