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 Collage - "Let the Spirit Take You"

I began my most recent piece in April.  I finished it last week.  Five months may seem like a long time, but sometimes art requires that an artist let a piece simmer while doing and experiencing other things.  In the last five months, much has happened.  Lessons have been learned.  Time has moved both quickly and slowly, things have been gained and lost, and hearts have been broken and mended.  This piece speaks to all of that.

The animal totems that appear in "Let the Spirit Take You" (2012) are hummingbird, tortoise, and dog (Golden Retriever).  The hummingbird is a symbol for accomplishing the impossible, and finding joy in all things.  The tortoise represents longevity, persistence, patience, slowing down enough to identify what's really important, and finding the abundance in simplicity.  The dog generally represents faithfulness and protection, and the ability to love.  The Golden Retriever in particular holds qualities of confidence, patience, friendliness and domesticity.

In this piece, all of these totems surround a woman.  She is relaxed, yet vulnerable.  And with vulnerability comes fear.  The hummingbirds are flying at her head, sort of kamikaze-style.  Perhaps they are trying to make most apparent that she can accomplish anything, and that she doesn't have to think about the how but rather just feel the joy of wherever the Spirit takes her.  The tortoise provides stability for her to recline, but it is in her face, talking to her, making a point.  Perhaps it is telling her to slow down and, again, not think so much, but rather watch, be patient, make it through.  The retriever is lying on her feet.  It doesn't worry.  It loves.

Recently I had a conversation with someone about the nature of love.  It is immutable, flexible, infinite, expandable, and unoppressive -- and solid.  Love isn't fleeting, contrary to what many may think.  Love allows us to break, and allows us to mend.  It helps us complete the cycles we experience throughout life.  Where would we be without it?  Likewise, Love's friends -- Patience and Persistence, among many -- are also our helpers.  They all work together to help us accomplish what we never thought possible.  And when we let them help us out, things like how and time -- well, how shows up, and time moves without us even realizing.  Perhaps that's part of the key -- don't think so much.  Let the Spirit take you.

"Let the Spirit Take You"
2012
paper and acrylic medium

Signs and Flexibility

As an addendum to my last post on reading signs, I want to say that one must be flexible.  This holds true for everything in life; we will all get further if we keep our thinking about things flexible and expandable.  And if one is practicing any form of art (expressive, visual, literary, etc.), this will necessarily occur (except when one is experiencing artist's block, which generally means that one is being too rigid or literal in their thinking -- aka, being overwhelmed or afraid). 

But in any attempt to follow spirit guides, or signs, outside of an artist perspective, one must not have too strict of an idea of what they're a sign of.  An experience with a spirit guide can hit at the core of a feeling and be dead on, but as for what to DO about it, well... that spirit guide may not be giving you any advice.  That's when the other guides show up and lead you further.  So while we may get hit with one encounter, we've got to keep open and listening.  And, of course, we always must be observant about the actuality of the situations we find ourselves in, and do our best, while feeling the feelings that may come up, to think rationally, and act based on rational thought.  Which is, indeed, flexible.