Hearts for Haiti

Do you love art and craft? Are you looking for a creative way to help the survivors of the Haiti earthquake? Have you heard of Hearts for Haiti?

Last week, I donated a drawing to Hearts for Haiti, an amazing collective shop raising money for Doctors Without Borders to help in Haiti. There are literally hundreds of items for sale in the shop, and 100% of the proceeds (after Etsy and Paypal fees) will be donated for Haiti relief efforts. So, what are you waiting for?? Get over to the Hearts for Haiti shop! Here’s what I submitted:

“Heartburst 2,” 4 x 4 inches, pen and ink

If you’re still looking for a great gift for your Valentine, and you want to give your money to the people who really could use it well, this is your chance!

That is all.

Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes: Poetry Podcast #8

I’m here with a new poetry podcast for you on this lovely Friday. I think the title above says it all, so I will leave you to your listening.

THE PODCAST – - – - -

{Listen to previous podcasts}

-Here is a link to the poem I read, in writing: “Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes” by Billy Collins.

-Here is one poem by Emily Dickinson that is referenced in the Billy Collins poem.

Just for hilarity’s sake, here’s a video (ooh, and another) of Billy Collins reading other amazing poems. Wow, I was doubled over and almost in tears with these ones. Seriously. You will see why. Oh wow! Poetry, I love you so!

Losing Yourself

My husband likes to rock climb. I mean, he really likes to rock climb. He pores over guidebooks and climbing routes, he studies rock faces and spires. I think he might even dream about rocks. Recently, the question of “why?” has come up in conversations between us and with some other climbers—”why does he like to climb rocks?” “Why do climbers in general like to climb rocks?” “Why do certain climbers like to climb certain types of rock climbing routes, and others prefer to climb other types of rock climbing routes?” [for example climbing a boulder versus climbing an entire mountain from bottom to top (my husband prefers the latter)].

These questions may seem ridiculous—they are similar to asking me why I prefer to draw with black ink instead of painting, or why one person enjoys playing basketball and another prefers cross stitching. But what I found most interesting about the answers to these questions is the base level answer—certain people like to climb rocks because when they’re doing it, they lose all sense of themselves—they’re completely focused on what they’re doing in that moment.

This answer made me realize more specifically, something I had vaguely realized, read, and heard previously: the things we most love to do are usually the things that, when we’re doing them, we lose all track of everything else—of time, of place, even of ourselves.

For my husband, one of these activities is rock climbing (and mountain climbing). Perhaps for a downhill skier, one of those activities is, well, skiing, and maybe for a brain surgeon it is being in surgery, completely focused on the next move in the operation.

As I hope you would guess by this blog, for me, one of these activities is making art.

Case in point:

“Winged Pyramid,” 5 x 5 inches, pen and ink

When I was making this drawing I took a trip to triangle land—all I was thinking about was the next line. This is a beautiful thing. I will admit that there are some days when this is not the case—I just can’t get out of myself and even when I’m drawing, my brain is just churning away. But on the whole, when I put pen to paper, I lose myself. This especially happens when I’m drawing something like this pyramid—I have no particular plan so I’m just going at it blindly, trying to build it into something interesting. It also happens when I’m creating new ideas in my head—most often about art or other creative projects. I get so involved with the creative thinking process that I feel almost like I’m floating.

“Hexagon Pyramid,” 5 x 5 inches, pen and ink

I think it is a lucky thing to figure out what it is that truly knocks your socks off. Truthfully, it is something you could build your life around, even if it never ends up translating into a career.

What activities do this for you? What activities cause you to lose yourself, lose track of time, and just get completely focused in the present?

Through the Dark

After last week’s post about sumi ink, I have to say—I learned something important about the medium—it is quite a challenge to paint large sections of black with an even tone. So, after two tries and several tests for this new drawing, I decided to make my life easier, and I finished the piece with my more standard media—Copic Multiliner pens, Micron pigment ink pens, and a Tombo acid free marker for the solid blacks. This was the first time I used the Tombo marker for such a large black area, and I’ll admit, it was harder to get a nice solid black than with a good, new Copic marker.

I will now stop boring you with pen details and give you some art:

“Through the Dark,” 8 x 10 inches, pen and ink, prints available in my shop
{click on the image for a larger view}

The concept behind this drawing is very close to my heart—I love the idea of being able to fill yourself up in order to find your way. As human beings, with such highly functioning brains, we have amazing power—we can fill ourselves up, or tear ourselves down in one single thought. I would like to use my brain power to do the former.

In Appreciation of the Slow Build

So often we want things to happen fast—especially when it comes to our own “success.” Especially when we are growing our own business or career. I know I have talked about this idea on this blog before. For me, as an artist trying to develop an online (and offline) art business, it can sometimes be discouraging to look around and see all of these models of lightening-fast success. Some of you may be most familiar with “the starving artist” concept, but it is pretty phenomenal to see many artists online, especially through Etsy, making it, big time.

{the first piece of art I ever posted on this blog—from my very first blog post ever—back in September 2007}

This should be encouraging, right? “If they can do it, I can do it!” But sometimes, when you feel like you’re just eeking along, doing the best you can, getting a sale here and there (or even quite a few), but never getting that lightening bolt of business that seems to be striking every Tom, Dick, and Jane on Etsy, it can be really disheartening.

I think the key word here is seem. I recently heard this show on NPR, and the speaker (gosh darnit, can’t remember his name) was talking about playing the Lottery. He believes that one of the main reasons people continue to play the Lottery even though people always say the odds are impossible, is that all they see are the winners—so in their mind, there seem to be quite a lot of winners out there.

{The original sketch of my drawing “Value Your Time More Than Your Money,” originally posted here back in June 2008. Shortly after that post, I did the larger drawing and have sold the print time and time again ever since.}

We all know that the majority of people who play the Lottery do not win, but how often have you seen an advertisement that says, “I played the Lottery for 25 years, spent thousands of dollars and never made a cent!”? Oh, how about never. This speaker suggested that if we were to see TV advertisement with an accurate percentage representation of Lottery losers to winners, we would be watching hours and hours (perhaps days) of coverage of the losers with just a few minutes of winners. If we really saw this, I’m doubtful anyone would play the Lottery!

Stay with me . . . there is a point here. I am not saying you shouldn’t try to be an artist, or that you have about the same odds at becoming a self-supporting artist as you do at winning the lottery. What I’m saying is, perhaps the people who have that lightening success—out of nowhere they seem to be selling work like hotcakes or have gotten a book deal, or have gotten a top position at a leading company in their field—perhaps they are really the anomaly, and therefore we shouldn’t be using their success as a gauge of where we should be.

I find this idea quite encouraging. I think it can be so inspiring and uplifting to know that the real truth of the situation is that it’s likely to be a slow build. I see it much less often, but on occasion I have read other artists online talking about this, and I do think this is the truth. It’s kind of like the turtle and the hare—slow and steady wins the race. And isn’t it better to be a turtle, really? I’m not denying that I would love to turn around and be selling like gangbusters, but it is encouraging to know that if you just keep doing your work and putting it out there, your business/art/career will slowly build.

You may be saying, “how can you even guarantee that?” Well, all you need to do is look around. When it’s a slow build, it’s easy to miss your successes—one sale leads to two, and two sales lead to five. You may never get crazy busy all of a sudden, but if you look at the numbers, your business is growing.

{Me at my first craft show in December 2008. I have to admit that I haven’t changed my set-up that much because it’s fun and it works, although I have made many additions to what I had for sale that day.}

This was really a long way of saying that today I would like to appreciate “the slow build.” I was thinking back over the last couple of years and realizing how far I have come, and I thought you might like to do the same for yourself.

My story: A year ago, I was just getting started with my online shop. Now, I’m making more and more regular sales that are actually resembling a source of income. Two years ago, I didn’t even have a shop and had never even sold a piece of artwork. Three years ago, this whole business wasn’t even a glimmer in my eye yet. The same goes for this blog—last year this time I was getting less than half the number of view per month that I am now, two years ago—about one sixth, and three years ago, I hadn’t even thought about blogging yet.

Now, if I’m always comparing where I’m at to where I was yesterday or where someone someone else is, I would have a very different view of things (I confess, I do this way too often). But if I take a moment to see the reality that I’ve built a business from nothing, made dozens of pieces of artwork, connected with so many people from across the globe, and all in the past three years—I’d have to say, slow and steady is winning this race, and what a wonderful race it is.

Your story: Take a moment to look back at where you were last year, the year before, and maybe even the year before that. This works with just about any long-term goal/experience—a career, a business, school, finding your life path. Review how far you’ve come either in your head, or if you have them—look at actual numbers, facts, and figures. Bask in the glow of a slow and steady build. Remember this every time you start comparing yourself to other people or get frustrated with not getting where you want to go fast enough. Now, leave a comment here to share what you discovered with other readers! I’d love to hear how far you’ve come!

Natural Wonder: a weekend in Yosemite Valley

My husband (Mike) and I went on a little weekend trip to the Yosemite Valley. I had not been to Yosemite in quite a while, so I was excited for a weekend of awe-inspiring natural wonder. If you have not been to Yosemite, you might wonder, “Could the place live up to the descriptions?”

The answer is yes. Millions of people travel to Yosemite at large, and the valley specifically, every year. It can get pretty crowded in the summer—I once hiked up the very famous Half Dome, and was quite besides myself to see the sheer volume of people on that approximately 15 mile hike that starts at the valley floor and climbs more than 4,000 feet. So, yes, the volume of tourists can get in the way, but that still doesn’t ruin the views.

Winter is a pretty low season, so we were fighting the cold more than the crowds, but the sun shined on us both days, which made for two wonderful hikes and a lot of gaping at the enormous walls.

A chilly morning view from our campsite at Camp 4.

Mike photographing a prospective rock climb he would like to do. Yes, Mike is a rock climber, and Yosemite is one of his favorite places to climb. He spent most of the weekend studying the rock for future expeditions. We were on the Snow Creek Trail here, and behind him you can see the Quarter Domes.

A view of the valley, including the famous Half Dome (top right), from the trail going to Upper Yosemite Falls.

Upper Yosemite Falls. We stood watching for quite some time, as chunks of ice fell down the falls. You could feel the chill coming off the falls, even from this distance.

Here we are in front of Upper Yosemite Falls. The crooked-ness of the picture is due to the crooked-ness of the rock I set the camera upon. Nature is the best artist.

I learned from reading a little book about Yosemite that the valley was called “Ahwahnee” by the natives (a division of the Southern Miwok) who lived there before Europeans took over. Ahwahnee means “valley that looks like a gaping mouth.” This could not be more correct—both as a description of the valley and a description of the bystander looking at the valley. There is a very luxurious hotel in the valley that is named the “Ahwahnee.” It’s very plush and was finished in 1927 to cater to the wealthy visitors to the valley.

I was also curious to know what the word “Yosemite” meant. In looking it up, I found that the word has a much less awe-inspiring background. It means something along the lines of “those who kill,” and is how other tribes referred to the tribe living in the Yosemite Valley, as they were thought to be extremely violent. They referred to themselves as the “Ahwahneechee” which basically means dwellers in the Ahwahnee.

It felt good to get out there and have a new adventure and breathe the fresh air. Sometimes it’s easy to get into a pattern of sameness. Have you been on any adventures (large or small) lately?

[I got my very brief historical and etymological info from Yosemite: A Guide to Yosemite National Park California, put out by the National Park Service, and this website about Yosemite]

To a Frustrated Poet: poetry podcast #7

For today’s poetry podcast, I’m reading a poem that really resonates with me right now—it’s about the struggle between being a creative person and having a “day job.” This poem will give you a little laugh, if you’ve ever had to work at a job that didn’t really reflect your true self.

The poem is called “To a Frustrated Poet” by R.J. Ellmann, and I found it in the book Good Poems for Hard Times, a collection selected by Garrison Keillor. I did not have any luck finding out anything about this poet—this is the first time I’ve heard of him or her. If you know anything about R.J. Ellmann, please do let me know in a comment.

First, a view of the woods for the frustrated poet:

And the podcast:

{press arrow to play podcast}
{please let me know if you have any technical difficulties}

Another poem I mention in the podcast is the very famous poem “This Is Just to Say” by William Carlos Williams. Click on the title above to read it.

Enjoy!

{listen to previous podcasts}

Lance Lessons: all I need to know in life, I learned from my dog

This is Lance, my canine sidekick. I want to say this is who I share my day with, but really he has his own agenda—including a lot of the activity illustrated above: relaxing. He especially loves to sunbathe, as he is doing right now (still in the same spot in our yard that you see above), and in general, he is a man of leisure. I know it’s a cliche to say that all I need to know in life, I learned from my dog, but sometimes it’s true.

Lance leads a simple life: he sleeps for a large part of the day, and mostly seems to think about going for walks, eating, and sleeping. Honestly though, he doesn’t seem to think very much—expect about the moment he’s in. I’m not saying I want to sleep all day—I generally like to use my brain in creative ways, but let’s take a moment to think about the wisdom of Lance—the ability to live in the moment, lie down in the sun when there’s sun, enjoy a walk when he’s on a walk. This is a beautiful way to live. I think I could learn a few lessons from him.

Here’s to Lance’s willingness to take things as they come. Thanks Lance!

It Doesn’t Have to Be Good and the Art of Procastination

The sun is shining today, and this makes me want to do one thing, and one thing only: go bask in the sunlight. Unfortunately, there is this little thing called work that I need to do, and I have been doing my fair share of procrastinating lately. You see, I am working on these three different projects, all of which are a bit new and scary, and so, I keep having to give myself ultimatums to get to work.

As I was just riding my bike to run an errand, I started wondering, what is it that is causing me to fret about working on these projects? The answer came out loud and clear: the fear of them not turning out “good.”

Some time ago, I read (wish I could remember where) that procrastinators aren’t lazy, they’re just perfectionists—in fear that things won’t turn out as well as they want them to, they just keep putting off doing the work to avoid failing. I think I’ve shared this idea on this blog before because this fear often comes up in creative pursuits.

For many people, it comes up at the beginning—they don’t even try to make art because they’ve decided they could never make “good” art. For me in my current projects, it is coming up more towards the middle. I get really excited about ideas and new starts, but I’m getting stalled up at the point where I actually need to finish the project. Each time I sit down to work, I am further committing to the idea, which can be scary if you haven’t quite decided how “good” the idea is to begin with.

The real problem here is not the work, it is the labeling. “Good” is the problem.

The truth is:

It doesn’t have to be good.

This is a hard concept to grasp, and I need to remember it too, so I’ll say it again:

It doesn’t have to be good.

Your brain may be having a conniption fit right now, but it’s true. Let me explain: There is no way to make a “good” piece of art—all you can do is make a piece of art. You will never be able to anticipate what people’s reactions will be, or how the work will fit into the grand scheme of all of your art or the world. As an artist, your main job is to make art that is honest and means something to you. Art is a process—the making of each piece of art leads to the next piece of art, and that’s all you can do—keep making the next piece.

Looking back on the art I’ve made in the past couple of years, I know this to be true. Sometimes making art can feel like running around blindfolded with crayons between your toes—you’re just doing the work and don’t know what will happen, or where it will lead you. But somehow it does just that—it leads you, without you knowing it. One project leads to another one and suddenly, you are six months out and piecing together things you didn’t even know about when you got started. It’s amazing.

Now is the point in the blog post when I realize I have been having a little discussion with myself here—I needed to be reminded of these things very much. I hope these ideas are also helpful to you.

Are you getting stalled up on starting or finishing a project? What are you afraid would happen if you just jumped in? While planning can be a good thing, sometimes you just need to jump in and get to work. Speaking of which . . . I’m off to the drawing board. Happy Making!

The Starving Artist Project

You may remember a little project I did back in 2008 called The Sketchbook Project through the Arthouse Coop, an amazing gallery that organizes really interesting nationwide art projects. That little sketchbook that I illustrated under the Arthouse’s given theme “Saving the World,” lead to my 11+ “Saving the World” drawings that have become a cornerstone in my shop, and really the foundation of the art I do now.

Well, I recently found out about another project through the Arthouse Coop called “The Starving Artist Project.” As you may know, I am currently trying to discover a way to support myself through art, so as you can imagine, the title of this project certainly piqued my interest.

If you check out the project details, you will find that this is one cool deal! You make a piece of art that somehow reflects yourself and your work, send it in by April 5, get it displayed in a show and included in a book about the project, and have the chance at winning a $2,000 grant, no strings attached! The $25 entry fee funds the grant, which from my experience is a pretty sweet deal. I mean, you automatically get put in a show and a book!

The sign up deadline is February 1, so get your little creative self over there and sign up! What have you got to lose? Now I just have to figure out what to make—something that will knock their socks off!