 Reality is not Always Probable, by TROIKA (25,542 colored dice) A recent art fair in San Francisco, FOG Design + Art, shows how a spirit of genuine artistic innovation can generate commercial success.
FOG has its roots in San Francisco’s history of technological and scientific innovation, yet it hasn’t been easy to combine that heritage with art that is visually compelling and original. For years I’ve been disappointed in FOG, thinking it an awkward mixture of art and furniture. This time I was stopped in my tracks again and again by beautiful innovative work that illuminated the connections between art and design. The best art at FOG was based on imaginative use of materials. For example, the image highlighted above seems from a distance to be some kind of textile, an abstract geometric form full of movement. Aptly named “Reality is Not Always Probable,” this work is subtle and intriguing. As you move closer you realize that it is made entirely of colored dice. Three women in London, an artist collective called TROIKA, created this piece. While experimental works seemed to dominate the fair, there was still a place for traditional painting. These works were often monumental, seeming to make up in size for their lack of quantity throughout the fair. One of the most popular painters was Hopie Hill, who uses the Dutch still life tradition to explore contemporary themes. And then, let’s just say it: FOG made a lot of money for the artists and their galleries. Reported sales during Opening Night topped 8.8 million. While many sales were at mega-galleries like Hauser & Wirth, smaller galleries also did well. Jessica Silverman (San Francisco) reported strong sales, and Hopie Hill’s still lifes (Charles Moffatt, NY) sold out at relatively modest prices ($8-16,000). This combination of excellent art and strong sales is cause for optimism.  I recently taught a workshop for artists about how art careers happen now. We started by discussing whether the following statements were true or false:
If you’ve been following my work you may know that these ideas are myths that hold artists back. Many successful artists never went to art school; regional museums often feature the work of emerging local artists; and successful careers follow a meandering path rather than a straight one. The next statements (all true) suggest a more open approach:
When you realize that your art practice is the foundation of an authentic career, doors begin to open. You spend more time developing relationships with people who are on your level. You recognize that moments of insight are just as valuable as good research, since left and right brain ways of knowing go hand-in-hand. You stop striving and let your work develop naturally. Your career grows as you do. This approach offers a more accurate description of how an authentic career unfolds. If you are stuck in the assumption that the whole idea of having a career is antithetical to your real work, you may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. So think about it. What myths are holding you back? What truths will help you shape an authentic art career?  It has been a couple of years since I wrote about Artificial Intelligence, and now it is everywhere, often in the form of a friendly chat bot.
Most of us use AI to get information and advice about questions we’re trying to answer. The process is seductive, like a fast google search that sounds so convincing it must be the truth. I see artists using AI to help them write about their work, with sometimes problematic results. Since visual artists are often not skilled or confident writers, they use AI as a shortcut. When faced with the challenge of writing a proposal or other submission, artists go to their friendly Chat Bot, put in a few rough ideas, and out come smooth, polished paragraphs. They just sound terrific, since the sophisticated, elevated language is quite flattering. But on closer inspection there seem to be too many adjectives, and the language is generic rather than specific. The proposal might have been written by a novice art critic or curator; it doesn’t sound like the voice of a real artist. The people who read your proposal can recognize the difference. But if you think there are some good ideas in the AI version, don’t throw it away. Instead, imagine yourself at an art event, where someone asks you what your work is all about. Then, in front of a mirror or with a friend, look at the AI version and say it out loud in your own words. Take notes as you go, capturing the actual words you would use to describe your work. This process will help you find authentic language that sounds like a real artist: you. Everything you write about your work needs to be in your own voice. Happy Holidays!  Artists have always met together, often in small groups, to share their work and get feedback. These critique groups focus on the work itself rather than struggles to make a career happen. Now I’m seeing an extension of this process, where artists share how they are making their way in the art world. My own clients have recently started to do this, and I see a larger trend.
Artists need models of success that are real to them. Social media creates the illusion that everyone else has an easier time of it than you do. A relationship with an artist partner satisfies a deep need for real life examples of how other artists make their way. When you are able to connect with people who work just as hard as you do, it gives you hope. It is reassuring to know that nobody has it easy, that progress comes in phases, with disappointment and achievement in equal measure. This process seems to work best for mid-career artists who have already accomplished a few goals. Emerging artists usually don’t know enough to be helpful to others, since they are still learning how to take the first steps in establishing themselves. If you want to find an artist partner, look first within your own network. Identify someone you admire and would like to know better. Their work should be different from your own, so that you are not in competition for the same opportunities. Look for someone whose resume reveals accomplishments that are different from your own. Reach out and ask for a studio visit, in person or on Zoom, and start a conversation. When you share your work, your goals, and your questions with another artist, you find the energy to keep going.  Los Angeles is all over the place. The 28 artists included in the Hammer Museum’s biennial, Made in LA, demonstrate this. They come from other parts of the country, but live in LA and make wildly diverse work. The curators chose not to include a unifying title for the show, so viewers are challenged to find their own coherence. Reviews are mixed.
A number of the exhibitions reference the culture of cars & freeways, with one of the curators (from Chicago) noting that she had never traveled eighty miles in one day just to visit artist neighborhoods. It isn’t news that there are cars in LA, and the best on this theme is Lawrence Lek’s video installation, where a horse leads a car into a “rehabilitation center for disobedient self-driving cars.” I think one way to approach the exhibition is to choose a few artists that speak to you and examine how their work reveals its meaning. I especially liked Patrick Martinez’ cinderblock wall and Kristy Luck’s paintings. Both artists combine materials and processes to create layers of meaning. Martinez uses imagery borrowed from Mayan murals, graffiti, peeling paint and neon signs in his urban sculpture. This visual complexity reveals how the past and present are both alive, and influence each other. Kristy Luck’s paintings start with figurative imagery that anchors the work and then becomes abstract, as she layers pigments and translucent washes to blur the edges and soften boundaries. These elements overlap and penetrate each other, and the painting itself seems to search for meaning. These works reveal what it feels like to be an artist in Los Angeles, where there is constant movement, fragmentation, and experimentation. While there is no center, many lively neighborhoods support a vibrant artistic community.  Tree of Life #3 by Patricia Oji The Big Art World often feels contradictory and impenetrable, hierarchical and chaotic. Galleries pressure you to be making “a coherent body of work,” and then won’t even look at your submissions. You struggle to learn how to be visible on Instagram, and then they change the algorithm so hashtags don’t matter anymore.
What are you supposed to do? It’s hard to get it right, because the old rules don’t make sense anymore. I believe the way to navigate these contradictions is to concentrate on making the best work you can, every day, and stay true to your own vision and values. Sometimes this means breaking the rules. We recently lost a beloved Bay Area artist who did just that. Patricia Oji created many different bodies of work: urbanscapes of San Francisco, imaginary bugs with Latin names, a series of “lovable canines” revealing the character and personality of shelter dogs waiting to be adopted. By exploring different subjects she got better and better as an artist. Her new series, “Trees of Life,” was a response to “uncertain and stressful times.” This work fully expressed her values. Trees of life, honored in many cultures, symbolize the interconnectedness of all living things, the diversity of species, strength and hope for the future of our planet. While she was a talented oil painter, this new work was made of simple materials: graphite, colored pencil, and ink on paper. The lesson here is that sometimes you have to break the rules in order to grow. You experiment, you develop your skills, you explore different ideas. If, at the same time, you are able to stay true to your values, your work will become simpler and stronger. Patti was recently killed in a traffic accident. We will miss her.  I wanted to let everyone know about my new in-person workshop for San Francisco Bay Area artists! Sign up through Marin MOCA (marinmoca.org/class24).
How Art Careers Happen Now Thursday, September 11; 1pm - 3:45 pm Where: Marin Museum of Contemporary Art, 1210 Fifth Avenue, San Rafael (at B Street) The professional landscape for artists can be confusing. Many artists wonder what success looks and feels like now, and what they need to do to break through all the noise. In this interactive workshop artists will learn how to examine their own career goals and progress, identify their biggest challenges, and plan their next steps. Mary will provide an overview of the ways current emerging, mid-career and established artists are making progress in their careers. An artist who took an earlier version of the workshop said: "The handouts alone from this great class guided my career for six months!" Here's what you will learn:
Let me know if you have questions about this workshop. Fee: MarinMOCA Members $95; Non-Members $110  Many artists are introverts, or maybe just shy. The thought of standing up in front of people and giving a talk is terrifying. But the more successful you become the more likely it is that you’ll be asked to talk about your work, in person, to an audience. How do you get over your fear?
When you’re fearful you are focusing on yourself. What if you forget what you want to say? What if you make a mistake? When you change your focus to your audience’s needs and interests, you get out of your own head. So think about why they came and what they don’t know about you and your work. What is obvious to you can be a revelation to your audience. Take a look at your artist statement. Even if it’s not perfect, you may find the key points of your talk there. Go through it, underlining the ideas and phrases that you like. Then imagine how you would convey those ideas to a friend, chatting over a cup of coffee or on a walk. Spoken language is more casual, less formal than what’s written down. Here’s a possible structure for your talk:
You’ll be tempted to read your talk, but please don’t. A talk is a talk, a chance to connect with people. Leave time for questions at the end! You’ll be relaxed by then and your talk can turn into a real conversation.  Jean-Michel Basquiat as a child. Most creative people occasionally feel stuck. You find yourself up against a wall of nothing: no new ideas, no energy, no enthusiasm for making art. You begin to doubt yourself and your work. In order to break the logjam, try looking to the past. You may need to look backward in order to move forward. See if you can recover the core of self who loves to make art. When I ask artists how their art-making impulse began, they often smile and recall childhood memories. “I was always drawing . . . I loved to color . . . I made boxes out of paper in the third grade.” Even those who ended up spending 20 years as an accountant remember the child who loved to make art . So when your creativity dries up, look to the past. Mine your own archives, looking for new inspiration. Try to find the seed of an idea that might now be ready to grow. Nature provides wonderful metaphors for creative renewal. Seeds are dormant, dry and closed, and don’t become seedlings until they receive the proper nutrients: the right temperature, moisture, light and oxygen. So make sure your working conditions are right for you. How do you feel when you enter your creative space? Think about whether you need more light, more air, more open space? Is your own environment right for growth? A dormant seed has to break out of its protective coating before it can become a seedling. Is your inertia a way of protecting yourself? Are you stuck because you don’t want to feel vulnerable? What do you fear? Remember, creative growth requires belief in yourself and the courage to break free from limitations. Don’t hesitate to create the conditions that will help you grow. The image of Jean-Michel Basquiat as a child was generated using AI. It is a fictional representation and not a real photograph.
 Did you know that Stanford University has recently adopted an Arts By Prescription program? Students can go to their health service and receive a prescription for free “doses” of art and cultural activities to improve their mental and emotional well-being.
This unusual program is the result of long-term research on the health benefits of arts participation (see Your Brain on Art: How the Arts Transform Us, by Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross). The book is dense with complex research studies, but its message is clear: involvement in the arts is good for you. For artists struggling to create in our chaotic times, I’m happy to say that the brain research also applies to the process of making art. This confirms my own experience as an artist coach. When artists tell me how they struggle to make art while bombarded by the news, I tell them to turn off the TV and get back to the studio. When artists are paralyzed by FOMO as they follow the social media feeds of their friends, I suggest they get out a sketchbook and go for a walk. When artists are recovering from rejections from a seemingly indifferent art world, my advice is the same: get back to making art. Here are a few examples of the health benefits of art-making:
So when you are in doubt about the value of your work in the marketplace, be selfish. Do it just for you. Give yourself a healthy dose of art. You don’t even need a prescription. Note: Many thanks to Pamela Coddington Samaniego for highlighting this research at her recent talk for Marin Arts.  For most of us, in art as in life, you have to do it wrong a lot before you get it right. People in their second or third marriages know this, but simpler examples come to mind. Think of a stumbling toddler learning how to walk, or the process of training your dog to sit. Perhaps the best example comes from the history of scientific invention. Thomas Edison, when asked about how he discovered the right materials to make the light bulb, famously said: “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that don’t work.”
This is a good lesson for artists who hesitate to fail. If you are risk averse, afraid of the uncertainty and vulnerability of trying new things, you won’t grow. The art world can be an irrational place, so you often need to experiment. When artists who are now becoming successful look back on how it happened, they describe many unsuccessful attempts: rejections from granting agencies, rebuffs from galleries, disappointing sales. In each case these artists found a way to learn from their experience. They got better at failing. You can move beyond feelings of disappointment and anger by analyzing what happened. You discover how your strategies and tactics might need to change. You may be applying for opportunities that aren’t right for you, or trying to get into galleries that aren’t a fit for your work. When you hear a NO, here are some key questions to ask:
Most important, ask yourself: what can I learn?  Ruth Asawa, Untitled, 1954, Enameled copper and iron wire
We are living in a time of adversity, complete with its own ugly, venomous toads at the helm, and would do well to remember lessons of the past. I find inspiration in the life and career of the sculptor Ruth Asawa, currently having a retrospective at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (the exhibition travels to New York’s MoMA in the Fall).
Although Asawa’s remarkable sculptures need no backstory to explain their power, her life as an Asian woman artist contains multiple examples of overcoming real obstacles and discrimination embedded in the law. Born in California into a family of Japanese immigrants, Asawa was 16 when they were sent to a Japanese internment camp. Despite this wartime oppression, she learned how to draw from artists and illustrators also interned at the camp. She originally wanted to be a teacher, but again her Japanese ancestry denied her a teaching position during the war, so she decided to concentrate on art. Later, at Black Mountain College in North Carolina, she studied with Josef Albers and Buckminster Fuller. She began to create the suspended, looped and tied wire sculptures for which she would become famous. When Asawa married the architect Albert Lanier, interracial marriages were illegal in all but two states, so the couple moved to San Francisco, where she found her place in the art community. Defying all stereotypes about what was possible for a woman artist, she and Lanier had six children. Every time Asawa encountered an obstacle, she managed to move through it, and found a precious jewel of possibility.  Faced with misbehaving technical devices, most of us have figured out a simple hack: turn it off, unplug it, start again. A similar principle applies with human communication: change the channel.
The artists I know complain that nobody answers their inquiries. You craft a careful email message, asking for information, or requesting a meeting, or presenting a proposal. You leave your contact information, and look forward to a quick response. And then nothing happens. No one answers, or even acknowledges the message. Many of us begin to fill the silence with our own insecurities, deciding they hated the proposal, or found the question inappropriate. Then we give up. My best advice is to change the channel of communication. If you sent an email, follow up with a phone call. If you’ve been texting and suddenly all goes silent, make a phone call. If your contact is a local organization, visit them in person. If you’ve submitted a written proposal through an online process, send it again via snail mail, or send an inquiry via LinkedIn or Instagram. Try alternate means of communication at least three times. Then wait two weeks (unplug yourself), and do it again. This is like a system reset. The reason all of this is necessary is that we now communicate on too many channels, and they get overloaded. The circuits are jammed. You can check your route on google maps, to find out if there’s too much traffic, but communication channels are not easily seen. And don’t forget to try an old-school method of communication – ask somebody. I was recently frustrated because an editor wasn’t answering my emails. A friend who knew her personally explained, “Oh, didn’t you know? She just had a baby.”  Artists are never only one thing. Your creativity flows in many directions. Painters paint abstracts and landscapes, which may turn into abstract landscapes. Sculptors create figures but also make ceramic boxes. Visual artists experiment with sound.
All of this imagination seems natural and right, until your art starts getting criticized or misunderstood. “She hasn’t yet found her voice,” they say; “his work is all over the place.” Galleries are famous for this attitude, asking artists to present “a coherent body of work.” So what do you do? Should you stick to one theme, one medium, one process? The answer is a resounding no, but it’s still your job to help viewers understand how your work makes sense as a whole. You don’t need to put yourself in a box, but you might need to find the right umbrella. A good umbrella lifts you up (think Mary Poppins). It places your work in a larger context. It can be straightforward, where you have a series of explorations using different media, or different materials. Perri Howard says that her artwork “resides within the emerging genre of New Polar Aesthetics, expressed through painting, drawing, sculpture, and sound.” Sometimes your umbrella is a broad concept. Nina Elder states that she is “an artist and researcher whose work focuses on changing cultures and ecologies.” Even when you focus on one subject, it may express multiple meanings. Janet Jacobs explains: “Light is my primary subject. It is the way we see in the world. It’s how all things grow on the earth, and it is a metaphor for awareness.” Remember, Mary Poppins’ umbrella had magical powers. It became her parachute into new places and a compass pointing her in the right direction. Where will your umbrella take you?  All American (2017) by Amy Sherald - Courtesy of Monique Meloche Gallery Amy Sherald is best known for her iconic portrait of First Lady Michelle Obama (2018). When she was honored with this commission, she had been creating portraits of Black Americans for over a decade. Now, in her first major retrospective, we see 50 works that express what she calls her Democratic vision, portraits of everyday Black Americans.
Sherald’s portraits reveal the quiet dignity and strength of individuals going about their everyday lives. A man sits atop a tractor, proud to be a farmer when his ancestors were forbidden to own land. “The Bathers” shows two young girls holding hands, dressed in colorful two-piece bathing suits, in a wry commentary on earlier works by Renoir and Cezanne. A man in a polka dot shirt smiles shyly, and is simply titled “Handsome.” Sherald describes how she finds her subjects: “I look for something I’d call presence—this quiet magnetism that pulls me in. It’s really about seeing someone who feels like they already have a story to tell, even before I paint them.” The portraits seemingly refuse to make political statements. These individuals do not represent anything other than themselves. They simply claim their humanity, in what Sherald calls “a gentle presentation of Black identity.” So it is shocking to find ourselves in this political moment, when images of Black Americans are being flagged for removal in a purging of DEI content. Just as Sherald’s exhibition travels from SF-MOMA to New York’s Whitney Museum, the goons now in power are attempting to eliminate the historical record of achievement by people of color. This includes images of the Tuskegee Airmen, the nation’s first Black military pilots in World War II. These heroic figures live on in the faces of Sherald’s everyday Black Americans.  Many artists distinguish between their art practice and having a “real job.” They are happy to have the freedom and flexibility that comes from doing creative work. They remember the restrictive aspects of having what we used to call a “job job.”
Most important, you let go of your own ambivalence and second-guessing about what you should be doing with your time. You have a job. You’re in the studio, at work, and everything else can just wait.  Even if you don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, take the time to look ahead and think about what you want to accomplish.
What will it take to reach your most challenging goals? Most of us can visualize what success would look and feel like, but when we try to see the path forward, it seems to be full of obstacles. These big boulders and little rocks, which can be both internal and external, get in the way of progress. They often take the form of “if onlys.” If only I had an MFA, if only my kids were older, if only I lived in a bigger city. When you focus on conditions that are hard, or even impossible to change, you end up sitting down in the middle of your path. Don’t hang on to dysfunctional behaviors and ways of thinking, as they can provide an excuse for staying stuck. It’s better to focus on what you do have, your strengths and resources, your talent and your vision. Remember what you’ve already accomplished, no matter how long it took. When you let go of your “if onlys” you make space for positive energy and new ideas. As you think about what it will take to reach your most challenging goals, keep the focus on actions within your control. Ask yourself questions like these:
When you start getting answers to your questions, identify next steps. In this way you have the beginnings of a plan for the New Year.  For my last post of the year I wanted to look back at what seemed to matter most in my work with artists.
My New Year’s Resolution, as both a friend and coach, was to “talk less, listen longer.” That vow led to another mantra that I like: ask better questions. Here are two of mine: 1. How do artists reach the top? The Whitney Biennial happened again this year, celebrating artists wildly diverse in terms of race, gender, and subject matter, but strangely uniform in geography. Over 80% of the artists selected live and work on the coasts, primarily in New York and California. I was tearing my hair over this when I decided to dig deeper. I found that most of these artists actually developed their work and careers through exhibitions in small art centers and museums throughout the country. Artists who reach the top have put in the time and effort to gain visibility by showing their work all over the place. Nobody starts with a solo exhibition at MOMA. 2. What are the myths holding artists back? The primary debilitating myth is that you can’t combine a successful career with an authentic creative life. I believe the opposite is true, as I see how artists express their values through their work. Some do so through explicit social or political content, but that’s not the only way. Other artists let their art tell us what matters to them: the healing power of light in the landscape, the meaning of sound in the quiet waters of the arctic. Artists reveal the world to us. So try, in 2025, to create work that reflects what matters most to you. Then share it with others.  The concept of gratitude can be more than a platitude (sorry!) if you turn it into an active thing. You can create a circle of gratitude that starts small and personal and grows so that it affects the lives of others.
Instead of focusing on all that went wrong in 2024, take a moment to acknowledge what you’ve managed to accomplish, and remember the people who helped make it happen. Think about friends and family, teachers and mentors, other artists who have encouraged you. Then let them know how they helped you, and express your appreciation. Be specific! The circle of gratitude is created when someone else understands that they have had an impact on your life, that they are part of your human connection. As you consider what you’re grateful for, give those gifts back to others. For example, If you’re now part of a community of artists, reach out to new people and invite them in. If you have discovered new resources or opportunities, let others know how you found them and what you’re learning. If you have struggled to stay positive this year, be honest about your doubts and how you manage to keep going. A spirit of generosity is the foundation of the circle of gratitude. At this time of year people who want to give back volunteer at soup kitchens and shelters, but sometimes forget to pay attention to those close to home. Tell the people close to your heart what you’re grateful for, and give specific examples. When they share similar thoughts, you deepen the conversation. Choosing to make art in the face of intractable social and political problems is always an act of courage. Remember to be grateful for your own creativity.  Most of us are still trying to understand the recent election, making sense of it however we can. It seems to me that if you cannot absorb the big picture, it is helpful to look at the details. A good friend of mine was gazing at the big screen, and took a snapshot of one race in Virginia, where the winner was a personal favorite. She found a small win in the midst of major loss.
And that’s the only advice I have right now that might apply to artists struggling to create an authentic life in difficult times. Your own small wins matter, and sometimes they’re all that sustains you. The art you are making, your effort to show and sell it, your network of supporters, all create the fabric of your art practice and career. Think about your own small wins in the last year. Some of these will have been surprises, seemingly coming out of the blue, but pay attention to how they happened for you. Maybe you tried new things, or let yourself be vulnerable in new ways, or reached out to new sources for help and advice. Also make note of what hasn’t worked for you. Don’t continue to bang against doors that won’t open. One of my favorite mantras for artists is: do more of what’s working, do less of what’s not working, and try something different to see if you get better results. Avoid isolation. So many artists are introverts, and withdraw themselves when they are struggling with disappointment. Find your community, spend time with people who share your values, use your art to explore what you are thinking and feeling. Then focus on creating small wins.  A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the process of creating momentum in your art career. The idea was to set broad goals that would put you in motion, get you unstuck, and spark your creative juices.
Once you are in motion, what happens next? Artists think there is a secret, a magic door, and when you find the key you get what you want. On the contrary, what works best is to try different strategies until they begin to reinforce each other, and then the magic happens. For example, an emerging artist was in conversation with a curator who was considering her work for a client. After exchanging several friendly emails, including images of her work, it all went silent. Instead of getting discouraged, the artist began to try different communication methods. She texted, left telephone messages, offered a Zoom conversation. Eventually she got a response. Another artist was trying to get a job in the art world, with a degree in graphic design but no real work experience. He decided to combine three different approaches. He used his graphic design skills to transform the layout and aesthetic of his resume into an imaginative format. He then sent his “creative resume” to his network: friends, family, neighbors, teachers, other artists, and asked for a 20-minute conversation about his job search. He also created a profile to offer his skills on several freelance sites. These strategies worked together and he found an entry-level job. The secret is that there is no one magic key. You keep experimenting with different approaches, you get advice from many people, you stay open and positive. Instead of stressing over what’s not working, you continually try something new. You stay in motion long enough for success to find you.  You know what it feels like when you have momentum. You clean out a closet on a rainy afternoon, and a month later you’ve re-organized your whole living space.
An art career is no different. You need ways to get started, to keep going, to sustain your energy and enthusiasm over the long term so that your art practice grows in an authentic way. I believe it works best to create broad goals focused on your own behavior. This may seem counter-intuitive, since most planning gurus recommend having specific, narrow goals (sort of like a to-do list). Here’s the difference: instead of deciding to “visit three local galleries this week” you broaden that goal to “become more visible.” This broader goal is flexible, opens up possibilities, and engages your creative self. To become more visible, you might decide to volunteer at an art center, or stop by a frame shop to find out if they show the work of local artists, or build your social media presence by posting about your materials and process. All of these actions will naturally lead to other actions that move you forward. Another example of a broad goal is to “learn something new.” This goal might encourage you to sign up for a workshop, or join a professional society, or reach out to a mentor or coach for advice. Each activity will help you learn something new in a different way, and they all put you in motion. Broad goals create momentum. They are especially helpful for emerging artists who are overwhelmed by the hundreds of “artist opportunities” out there. You can also use such goals when you are stuck or confused about the path forward, or just ready to build the next steps in your art career.  Mickalene Thomas, A Very Beautiful Black Girl, 2011 We seem to be in the midst of a cultural moment, when the art and political worlds are bringing us a new perspective, a fresh energy.
In Los Angeles right now two Afro-American artists are receiving major retrospectives: the sculptor Simone Leigh and the painter/installation artist Mickalene Thomas. These exhibitions have been planned for years, so nobody expected Kamala Harris to also be on the stage. What connects these three women is not only racial identity, but their refusal to let others define what it means to be black and female. They take control of that narrative, saying “this is who I am and it’s my story to tell.” Mickalene Thomas’ exhibition, “All About Love,” is extraordinary on many levels. We see portraits of black women (a rare thing in the Western canon) who are singing, laughing, celebrating, while decorated with rhinestones and glitter. The exhibition is full of domestic scenes, with portraits of friends, family, and the artist herself. There is even a gallery where the visitor can rest in the colorful patchwork chairs of her childhood living room. Thomas is saying: “I may be a famous artist having a retrospective but welcome to my personal space, this is who I am and where I came from.” Simone Leigh’s monumental sculptures of Afro-American women are more abstract, her range of reference global, yet she also communicates a powerful origin story. Her work addresses centuries of oppression by showing black women as hybrid forms, often a small head connected to a vessel or a jug, reflecting traditional domestic roles and celebrating their strength and endurance in the face of oppression. In this context it is no surprise that Kamala Harris greets us with laughter, talking about her family history and values, refusing to let others define her.  Habits can be comforting, as they save us from making decisions about how to spend our time. This can be a good thing, if you have a healthy habit. When you always take a walk in the morning, you don’t have to spend the day figuring out how to get exercise.
But we all have habits that fill up time while not accomplishing a thing. “I wasted hours watching TV” says it all. When you’re trying to create a daily art practice, you might want to take a look at your habits. The first thing to do is to track how you spend your time. Don’t try to change anything, just go about your normal routines for a week, making notes on what you are doing, hour by hour. What patterns do you see? Then look back and identify chunks of time that might be better used. If you’re “a morning person” but spend those hours on trivial matters, try to put those hours to better use. Check your habits: do you always pick up the phone, no matter what you’re doing or who is calling? Do you move from one thing to another, responding to whatever comes up? This is a typical pattern for artists, who have many good ideas but find it hard to focus. To create a productive life, creative people need structure. One simple tool is to plan (the night before) what you’re going to do the following day. Your plan can be simple, just a few notes on a post-it. As you follow your mini-plan, note any differences between your wide open days and what you accomplish when you have a focus. Changing your habits is a gradual process, yet the benefits will show up quickly.  Recently I’ve gotten good news from a number of artists. One just heard that their proposal was accepted for a solo museum show, another found new gallery representation, and another was excited to receive a much-needed grant. In each case their success came after a long effort, but felt like a miracle.
I am reminded of an ancient Chinese proverb: “He who would believe in miracles, will have to learn to wait.” I like this sentiment because it conveys a deep truth in the lives of artists. When success finally comes, it feels like a miracle, yet it is actually the result of a long effort. Real progress is always incremental, with many small steps that seem to lead nowhere until something good happens. But how do you stay on the path long enough to succeed? Most artists are good at blaming themselves for “failures” or lack of quick results, but forget to reward themselves for the daily effort and commitment it takes to make progress in an art career. Psychologists call this process “successive approximations.” Reaching a goal is the result of many tries, the theory goes, and it’s important to acknowledge and reward each attempt, even if it doesn’t immediately produce a result. The artist who finally found new gallery representation had taken dozens of such steps: visiting galleries, going to art fairs to see what is being shown, keeping their own work alive and visible in multiple venues. And then the new gallery found her, as they like to do. So remember to give yourself credit, celebrate every small thing you manage to do, every time you try, no matter what the result. In this way you create your own miracle. |