TRANSITIONS
One thing is constant in our lives – change. We make plans, dream and set goals, and for the most part we manage to stay on the path that we’ve laid out for ourselves. But often, as changes and circumstances occur, we are forced to review those plans and dreams and assess whether or not they are still working and relevant. It forces us to decide how we will handle the transition. Will we use it as an impetus for a much-needed change, or do we let it consume us with fear?
It plays out similarly in our paintings. We start with a plan, then something happens – the light changes, we have a change of heart, someone walks into the studio and makes a comment (and are consequently never allowed back in the studio again…kidding)? Do we stick with the original plan? Heck no! We experiment, we change it up midway, and often, with a bit of serendipity, and adaptive creativity, a delightful happening occurs. And we are thrilled. Or not. But we tried. We didn’t give up. And in the process, we undoubtedly learned something, and grew from that experience.
Are our lives like our paintings? Loosely, yes. In reality, no. But it is quite a relatable comparison. Humorously so even!! Allowing ourselves to be open to new possibilities can often lead to a better than successful painting. Just as we let our paintings grow and develop, I find that life forces us to do the same, and in February an unexpected occurrence forced me to do just that. With the same determination that I tackle a change of direction in my paintings, I am addressing a change in my art career that may shed new light and life into the studio. Let me expound…
For 14 consecutive years, I had been an exhibitor at a local art venue. It pushed me as an artist, forcing me to develop larger bodies of work in preparation. I learned to work faster. I became more critical of my work and challenged myself to explore new ideas beyond the boundaries of what I had been working on previously. I learned to communicate about my work: where the ideas came from, how I approached a subject, how I assessed the success or failure of each piece. I developed a large client list and sold many of my works. These clients to this day are repeat collectors.
The show was local one that included 120 artists, lasted for 2 months, and involved a good deal of expense and commitment to participate in. It took much of the remaining 10 months of the year to prepare a body of work large enough to display, sell, and add replacements throughout the duration of the show. It wasn’t for the faint of heart. It involved working diligently throughout the course of the year to prepare enough work to showcase multiple coordinated displays, continuous trips to the framer, and the orchestration of still-life arrangements. Once the show was in motion, I showed up daily, spoke with multiple guests, gave tours, attended meetings, socialized with fellow artists, and helped to maintain a cordial, friendly and entertaining environment at the show. It was a full-time career, not just a pastime.
During the show, the artists are judged by a group of judges at 3 separate times: at the beginning, the middle and the end. This schedule is with the intention of guaranteeing that the artists are committed to showing their best work at all times. The jurors may be educators, publishers, museum curators or fellow artists. It’s a mix. The scores are tabulated at the end of the summer, and the top 60% are welcomed back, while the remaining 40% are told that they have not met the criteria.
It was a career that I handled and enjoyed. 14 years was nothing to me. It flew by, and I looked forward to it continuing ad infinitum….it was my normal.
This is a sampling of the work that I had on display in my 14th year…
I prepared a new series “white” for the show that summer and added in a few pieces from two of my other collections. It was well received, and the collectors were quite pleased with their acquisitions. Much to my surprise, the judges didn’t think so favorably of the work, and I was notified that I had not gotten a high enough score to show the following year. We were given a chance to resubmit again at a midway point between the 2 summers, with a new set of judges reviewing the work. Below are the pieces that I chose to submit…
Two weeks later, I was again told that I did not score high enough to exhibit the following summer. That would have been my 15th consecutive year. Darn! It was a loose goal that I had set for myself.
Shock and disappointment ran through me, as did a giant lack of confidence, and a tremendous feeling of loss. I hadn’t realized it, but the show had taken over my life in those 14 years. Even though it occurred for only 2 months each year, it was a full-time job for me. Our vacations were planned around it. Our social engagements were planned around it. I took one morning a week off, and booked hair, dentist and doctor appointments only during that time. I painted in the wee hours of the morning before I went in for my daily visit to my booth. And the balance of the year was spent in preparation. It was a familiar comfortable routine. And I must admit… I quite loved it.
Then…I guess I was fired (a first-time experience for me) – or at least it felt that way.
And so, with the usual pouting that we all seem to do when life throws us a curve and we face a new “transition”, I beat myself up by asking:
Had I gotten egotistical and needed to be put in my place? Had I thought I was immune to rejection?
Had my work grown stale?
Was my work slipping backwards?
Did I upset someone?
Rejection is nothing new. We get in some shows that we apply to, and we don’t get into others. But we roll with that. I do at least. I keep on keeping on. Those rejections didn’t destroy my confidence or my ability to perform in the studio. But this shock caught me off guard. It shook my world and my confidence to the core. Have you felt the same in similar situations? Perhaps some of you can relate.
So, I vented. My poor husband and daughters. My two closest friends – all so kind and patient with me. They were full of praise and encouragement, all trying their best to keep my confidence up.
It exhausted me thinking about it. The negativity was taking control and slowly becoming a destructive force. A friend had to remind me of some sage words of wisdom: “Don’t let the opinion of others live rent free in your mind, because it gives them power over you”. That helped tremendously, and slowly things began to turn around. I had been asking the wrong questions! And it wasn’t working. Those questions were all focused on the “opinions” of others and shouldn’t have been of prime importance to me. Asking myself instead, why I painted and where I saw my art going was what was really important. For the answer to that is our soul after all. It’s the reason we show up at the easel every day, and it’s the reason why we propel ourselves through this self-driven and lonely journey called “artist”. Sure, we study with mentors and other artists, we ask advice, we judge and get judged, but in the end each of our journeys is solitary. We take it alone…alone at the easel…alone with our ideas…alone with our experiments. Influences and opinions are all around us, and it is definitely difficult to ignore at times. In fact, most of the artists I know are not in the genre of cocky or egotistical. Many of us seek validation from jurors, from collectors, and from fellow artists. It’s quite natural.
But our lives are about our ART after all, not about the shows that we are or are not in. Too much time worrying about rejection, not about art will not further the skill or creativity of any of us. We all need to learn when to pull it back, when to slow it down, and whom to seek advice and mentoring from.
Interestingly, in the weeks and months that have followed my forced transition, I was notified that I had made the cut to be able to participate in two very prestigious art shows, and I have surprisingly not missed a beat at the easel. In fact, I have felt a tremendous sense of freedom. All of a sudden, there was no pressure and no need to organize a new “themed” body of work that would look good in a “grouping” as a show presentation. The slate was clean, and I was able to focus on each individual piece as the ideas floated to the surface. I experimented with 2 new surfaces, and a new brand of pastel sticks. I explored new ideas that were free and independent from a “themed” presentation. I accepted and completed a commission. And I entered two additional shows for which I am awaiting results. It has felt so liberating, and I have shocked myself with the quality of new work that has been produced. Go figure!
Too much time had been wasted on answering the wrong questions. And it froze me in place.
I already knew the answers to all of those wrong questions:
The question I needed to ask myself was: WHY DO I PAINT?
Did I paint to make money…to win awards…to receive praise…to be respected by my peers…to explore new horizons with a new medium…to execute the white noise floating around in my head?
Money… Yes and no. Yes forced me to paint still lifes that I knew would resonate with the collectors and art patrons. No was the realization that money was never the main goal.
Win awards and receive the accompanying praise? Of course I do. I submit annually to both physical and online juried art shows, and to annual art publications. Some submissions get accepted, others get rejected. It has inspired me to continue to grow as an artist, and it is a challenge that I am up to.
New medium? NO. I unapologetically LOVE pastel!! I don’t care if it’s under glass and isn’t readily accepted by a large number of professional art galleries. For me, it’s fabulous!
Execute the ideas in my head? Yes. I have endless ideas and am so fascinated with the light and the patterns that might emerge in a still life setup. I am always setting up something…exploring…seeing what might happen. It’s fun. It’s challenging. And I love it.
What questions do you ask yourself when life throws you a curve? How do the answers you come up with help or hinder your mobility as an artist?
For me, I realized that rejection didn’t take away my ability to paint, or to create. It was a momentary happening. The more important thing that I had overlooked and needed to focus on was: I am an artist. I was born an artist. No amount of rejection or failure at the easel could take that away. The hurt had temporarily clouded over what was really important, and I wasn’t able to see things clearly.
Interestingly, the Olympics occurred shortly after the experience, and in watching them, I couldn’t help but compare the journey of an athlete to that of an artist. Did you watch? I was mesmerized. The athletes were so inspiring…dedicated to their craft, always striving to be better than their personal best, accepting personal disappointment by finding a way to turn it into a motivator to do better. I wanted to emulate that. They also set out on their solitary pursuits for the same reason that we all do… because they love it! And like them, we all know that it’s our life and we find great joy in it. Emulating them as voices of inspiration and excitement is a goal for me. I am learning to put everything in its place where it belongs and let creativity take over.
I like the recruiting motto for the U.S. Army: “Be The Best You Can Be.” A GREAT one to live by.
If you find yourself in my same situation, it may help to give yourself the time to take a nice walk, breath, exercise, and pray. It may clear your mind so that it is free to create. Focus on the right questions and move foward. Observe, think, and listen. It will help you and I both to grow.
Share your journey with me. I would love to hear from you. And I promise to respond.
Follow my work at marietippets.com, and if you are interested, sign up for my newsletters. I try to offer something inspirational roughly 4 times a year. If there is a subject that you’d like to explore, drop me an email at mtippets@cox.net. In the meantime, happy painting.
