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. 

This week we celebrate our national independence day, in the midst of a divided country.  Keith Haring’s 1988 image seems to capture our crazy reality. Since I have no wisdom on political matters, let’s consider what it means for an artist to be independent.

For some artists independence means making art while ignoring the marketplace, and finding other sources of income. If this strategy is satisfying to you, that is enough for now.  For other artists independence means staying outside the increasingly troubled gallery system. You sell your art through personal channels, including a website and social media presence.

If this is your approach, you might also consider art fairs designed for independent artists.  Take a look at The Other Art Fair, which happens in Los Angeles, Dallas, and Brooklyn, and in various international locations.  Another similar option is Superfine, now offered in San Francisco, New York, and Washington, D.C. Both fairs are juried venues modeled on the traditional art fair, but with a twist: artists present their own work directly, rather than through galleries. 

Think carefully before choosing this route, since independent art fairs cost   money and time, and you need to be comfortable selling your work directly to the public. Read the reviews from artists who have done well (or poorly) at such fairs, and ideally attend as a visitor before you commit. Be sure to check out the quality of the art.

But real independence might also mean staying focused on your art practice, day after day, developing your skill and believing in your vision, no matter how quickly or slowly you are able to make your dreams come true.  
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How do you want to define your independence as an artist?

Most of us get overwhelmed when we ignore an accumulation of small problems  that hardly matter until they pile up and crash us down. These little things never get our attention in the midst of a real personal or global crisis, yet they eat away at the fabric of our lives, robbing us of energy and focus.

Take my garage door remote, for example. It sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t.  It was a tiny issue, but in my life it became a daily annoyance.  So, after many false starts,  I found a woman who has spent the last 30 years in the garage door business.  She pulled the thing apart and fixed it, charging me five dollars.

Suddenly I had the bandwidth and momentum to tackle bigger challenges, because this little one was solved.  So my advice to you is to identify some small thing that bothers you every day, taking your focus away from your art practice.  Then take the problem out of the short circuit in your brain and get it into the hands of an expert. Just don’t give up until you’ve found a solution. 

Sometimes your problem is embedded in a larger system (most technical problems are).  If you can’t find an expert, try a google search, starting with “how to fix . . . .” Look for a simple, step-by-step answer, follow the steps, and don’t give up until your problem is solved.

By solving small problems, one at a time, you create a new mindset:  problems have solutions, and you are capable of finding them.  When you reach out to other people, and other resources, you realize that you don’t always have to go it alone.

A 1945 Leonora Carrington painting just sold at Sotheby’s for $28.5 million. That fact raises an important question: is it time to rethink the prices for your art?

Record-breaking sales like this happen when an artist has entered the canon and collectors decide to make an investment, speculating that the value will go even higher.

Most artists will not reach these dizzying heights, but the idea of placing value on your work is a critical first step in establishing your prices. An emerging or mid-career artist can think about value by paying attention to the time, effort, and talent needed to create each work of art. 

If you want to test this theory, do the math. Begin to track the time and effort you spend on a new work of art. Start with noting when the idea first appears in your mind, and then add up the time spent doing research, experimenting with materials or processes, in addition to the hours creating the work itself. If you’ve spent 40 hours on a painting, and are charging $400 for it, you’re earning $10.00 an hour. Is that a living wage?

Next, your prices need to reflect the market you’re in. An emerging artist should study their local art market carefully. Visit galleries and nonprofit art spaces in your city, and note the range of prices charged by other artists making work similar to your own.  

Finally, your prices should reflect your own reputation and achievements. The auction prices for famous artists are high because they’re already famous. If you’ve been in a few group shows, but never had a solo show, keep your prices at the lower end of the range in your market.  

As you build your career you’ll be able to gradually raise your prices.

The names alone are seductive:  Guggenheim, Fulbright, MacDowell  . . .  their siren songs call to you. These big fellowships offer the promise of significant time and money  to support your art practice. How do you decide if you should apply?  

​Such fellowships often go  to people who have already made it on the national scene. So before you jump in, review the past winners. Don’t just look at their work, assess their careers. Find their CV or resume, and examine four areas: previous grants received, solo exhibitions at museums and universities, artist residencies attended, and press reviews. Then compare your own accomplishments. 

If you think you have a chance, go for it! At least a month before the due date, dig deep into the application process. If they care about financial need, what documents will be required? Do they ask for a project, or do they fund your practice overall? Leave yourself plenty of time to complete the application, and get help with the writing if you need it. 

Most of the big fellowships ask you to describe the scope, intention, and impact of your art. This is a difficult and valuable process, where you step outside your art practice and explain it to others. Even if you don’t get chosen this year, such work is never wasted. You’ll generate documents to revise and use again. 

If your research tells you that you don’t yet have what’s expected for the national fellowships, don’t be discouraged. There are many state, local, and regional opportunities out there. And by understanding where you need to strengthen your own resume, you’ll be able to focus your efforts so that you’ll be at the top of the list next time.