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an opportunity for artists

My friend Slash Coleman is teaching a class on marketing for artists. Here's the scoop:

What: Two business workshops for painters, artists, actors, performers, artists, and writers taught by author and award-winning playwright Slash Coleman.

Workshop Names: Make More Money with Your Art & Marketing through My Space & Facebook
You'll Learn to: Pack Your Event, Get Your Press Release Published, Sell More Tickets, Turn Your Contacts Into Cash, Get A Grant,Turn Your Art into Real Money (AND THAT’S WHAT YOU REALLY WANT ISN’T IT?)
When: Saturday, June 21, 2008.

1pm - 4pm: Make More Money with Your Art 
4pm - 5 pm: Marketing through My Space & Facebook
Where:  Crossroads Art Center
2016 Staples Mill Road
Richmond, VA 23230
Workshop Price: $65 each. Advance reservation recommended by calling 804-278-8950.

More information on-line at Crossroads Art Center!

voice of the muse

self-portrait, wearing my sparkly, i-feel-pretty earrings by keen designs

What our creativity calls to us cannot wait. The images and voices of the muse are inspired in the moment. Trying to hold it back is like trying to prevent gravity from pulling on the ocean's tides.

Creativity is not designed for fitting into a mother's busy day, nor is it convenient. It may disrupt our sleep, invade our dreams, and distract our thoughts until we give it expression. If we try to stave off its advances and ask it to wait until the children leave home, we may find ourselves stranded without inspiration.

-from Meditations for New Mothers, by Beth Wilson Saavedra

Often, in the evening hours approaching bedtime, my husband will see me pecking away at the computer, and he will urge me to close my laptop, to go to sleep, to rest. And I do need to sleep. But lately, I have been compelled to write. My heart is full with raw emotions. My mind is slowly processing all of the events of the past several months. And so I write to keep this energy flowing, to continue opening those locked doors of my heart, to quiet my mind.

Now that Thea has been here for a few weeks, we are starting to settle into our new normal. Right now, this normal means that no two days look the same. I feel consumed with her - nurturing her and sustaining her in a very physical sense, but also with drinking in her simple magnificence and the miraculousness of everything that she is. And yet, I know that sometime in the future, my focus will expand, and I'll be able to start thinking about and working towards other interests.

close-up of keen earrings pictured above

It's been quite a while since I've felt truly inspired to create any  new pieces for my line of handcrafted jewelry. Each day, I walk into my studio - freshly painted and organized and just waiting for the finishing touches. I pass by the table where I work. I see all of the drawers filled with beautiful stones, the bins where I store my tools. I see projects that were started but not finished before my pregnancy required me to pause. I want to work. But even if I had the time, I don't feel ready yet. I'm curious to find out when inspiration will strike once again.

I used to think that I wasn't a creative person. That was back in the day when I mistakenly associated "creative" with "artistic." And that, I certainly was not. But as I've grown older and more comfortable in my own skin, I've come to firmly believe that I am in fact creative, and that we are all creative beings. I believe that we all find unique ways to solve problems and to bring beauty into our lives. I believe that we all have urges to create, to give birth to our own ways of existing, to guide our inspiration into the light.

I have always had difficulty in finding time to just let myself be. Yet, this is the space where my creative spark catches and bursts into a bright flame. So now, in the thick of motherhood, I'm curious to discover the new ways that my creativity will find expression.

How do you pause to honor your creativity? How do you let your spirit shine?

grow already!

I always love this time of year. As I watch leaves emerging from tree branches, flowers and vegetables sprouting from the earth, and blooms appearing overnight, the world seems to be bursting with life and filled with limitless possibilities. From our garden soil, radishes, carrots, beets, greens, bean sprouts, cukes, tomatoes, zucchini, butternut squash, and my favorite - Thelma Sanders sweet potato squash - all climb toward the sky, and will soon produce our summer crop of vegetables. The flowers on our peonies are nearly ready to burst open into varying shades of white and pink and red. The clematis is in full bloom, climbing tall, winding itself up our picket fence.  Zinnias are sprouting, and the lupine, daisies, and echinacea are all forming buds. I'm hopeful that we'll soon have sunflowers gowning among our mint, lavender, sage, and basil and that the four o'clocks transplanted from my mother's house last year will soon rise from the ground.

I must admit - I'm an impatient gardener. By the time we sow the seeds in our vegetable garden, I'm already longing to bite into a homegrown tomato or to clip fresh greens for our evening meal. Starting about a week after our seed planting extravaganza, John and I begin our daily ritual of peering into the garden, of walking along the flower beds to see what new sprouts may have appeared. We comment on the flowers, pointing out which ones will likely show their colorful faces. We water diligently. And we wait.

I always heard that it takes a few years for a garden to really show it's potential. Plants tucked into the ground rarely give a good show during their first year. Often, even with plenty to drink and lots of attention, they remain smaller than their more established bedmates, and hardly offer a glimpse of their true potential.  Some, like our wisteria, take three long years to show their first blooms.

You may be wondering, "Why all of this garden talk?"

You see, lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking about creativity and about my own creative evolution. And in the past couple of weeks, I've realized how much I have to learn from my garden.  There are days when I feel completely and utterly excited about the things I make. Then, the very next day, I find myself judging my creative impulses, doubting my potential to learn and grown, feeling frustrated with the rudimentary nature of my designs. And, on the next day, like a pendulum, I swing back again. During the times when I am feeling low, it helps me to walk among my flowers, noticing how far they have come in their few short years of living. I am aware that as their roots grow deeper into the soil, they become taller, stronger, more vibrant in color.  Their blooms multiply and stick around longer than in their early days.  They wilt less easily in the heat.

I like to remind myself that I'm not all that different from my flowers. It takes time to let those roots work their way into the earth. It takes time to develop a firm foundation. It takes time to blossom into your fullest potential. Just like me.

reframing success

I found out yesterday that my jewelry was not accepted for the Richmond Craft Mafia's Spring Bada-Bing craft show. As I read the email, my heart sank, my cheeks flushed, and my internal critic instantly chimed in:  How could I have thought my work was good enough? What was I thinking? I won't try *that* again. I felt embarrassed and foolish for even having submitted my work for consideration.

And then I stopped myself. I brought to mind the reasons why I submitted my application in the first place: to courageously practice sharing a little bit of myself with the world, something my shy and self-conscious nature vehemently resists. And then, despite my disappointment, I realized that I had accomplished what I set out to do. I acknowledged what a tremendous feat it had been just to simply apply, and I silently congratulated myself on my success.

Throughout the day, I returned to the conversation I had with my coach during our last session. I shared with her that since I had submitted my application for the show, I hadn't really worked on any new pieces. In fact, I hadn't even pulled up the stool to my worktable. Not once. We talked through several possibilities: I had been really involved in writing my essay for Richmond Magazine - I had been so focused on creating pieces for the past couple of weeks that I was ready for the break - that I was allowing my creative energy to be stifled by the possibility of rejection.

Honestly, I think it was a combination of all of these factors. But the one that concerns me the most is the last one. By "putting myself out there," I added another variable into my creative process. For the past few months, I have found energy from the simple act of creating. I had not been trying to impress anyone or win approval or even involve anyone else at all.  It was a private affair, a love affair really, and I felt safe and content in my cocoon, basking in the warmth of the energy I was creating and sustaining.

I wonder what it is about my creative journey that has brought me to the place where I want to share it with others, where gaining the approval of others has become more important. Is it that part of seeing myself in a new way - as a creative person - involves others seeing me in that way as well?

Last night, as I continued to process my feelings on this, I thought of a post written by my friend Jim when he realized that his photographs weren't selected for a photo contest he entered through Virginia Wildlife magazine. I felt drawn to return to his post, sure that I would find comfort in our shared feelings. As I reread his words, I found out that we did share some of the same feelings. But I also noticed that in some ways, we reacted very differently.  When Jim described his reaction to receiving notice, he wrote, "I was angry. For a few seconds, everything that blazed through my mind was stupid. Stupid magazine. Stupid competition." I thought back to how I reacted, and I was aware that while Jim's thoughts were focused on the external - the magazine and the contest - mine immediately went to my shortcomings as being responsible for my work not being accepted.

Now, I'm curious as to how others deal with these type of situations.  As for me, I know there are many more opportunities awaiting me where I will grow stronger and become more comfortable in my own skin.

word of the day: hope

My newest creation - made with green aventurine, czech glass, a brass pendant and a sterling silver clasp.

create!

I intended to write more in this weblog. And I have been writing - I just haven't been writing here. 

For the past couple of weeks, I've been putting most of my creative energy into working on my jewelry (see the link to the photo album on the right) and into the writing of an essay that will (hopefully) appear in the upcoming issue of Richmond Health, a smaller publication of Richmond Magazine. The magazine has a column called "My Alternative," and my friend, who is the editor, asked me to write about my experience with an intuitive that I saw last fall as I searched for ways to continue healing after my fourth miscarriage last summer.

This flurry of activity was sparked by two deadlines that had been looming over me.  This Friday, March 9th, is the date I had to have my first draft to the magazine, and is also the cut-off for submissions into the Richmond Craft Mafia's Spring BadaBing show.  The initial relief I felt in turning in my work ahead of schedule was soon replaced by a flood of anxiety as I realized I was putting my work - little pieces of myself - in the public eye, to be judged by a world of strangers.

I've been making jewelry for over a year. Since I left the world of full-time employment in December, this creative act has become a moving meditation for me. I have also realized how it is a microcosm of my larger world and the way I have tended to approach my life. Somewhere along the line, I became very intent on having it all figured out (ha!), needing to know what comes next, and focusing on where I was going to end up when I set out on a path. Closure was my focus. I have lists - lots of lists - and one of my little pleasures is crossing things off and moving on to the next item. I've also struggled with the idea of "waste." It makes me intensely uncomfortable to think I'm wasting time, energy, money, or materials without something to show for it. You can probably guess how these little obstacles might hinder the creative process.

So, several months ago, my coach gave me an assignment. She asked me to just play, to just see what happens when I twist wire or place beads together with no particular idea of what the outcome will be. She encouraged me to buy some wire with the intent of just practicing technique. "Just see what happens," she urged me.

She was right. For the first time in my life, I'm starting to see myself as a creative person. I can hardly pull myself away from my studio. I've been enjoying the process so much, that sometimes it's hard for me to even finish a piece because ideas keep popping into my head. One thing leads to another, and before I know it, my every available space on my worktable is covered with the little bowls that hold my beads and half-strung necklaces.

The same thing happened when writing the article. I had trouble even sitting down to write. All I could think about was that this intensely personal experience was going to appear in a magazine read by half the city. Although I've been writing in my fertility weblog for well over a year, this felt different.

But then something happened. I consciously tried to approach my writing with the same mindset that I now bring to my jewelry. And it worked! Before long, I was well over my 800 word limit. My writing became not about my word choice or how the words flowed on the page, but about the process. One idea led to another, and I was caught in a whirlwind of typing and jotting down notes about weblog posts and art projects on scraps of paper.

Yesterday morning before I headed to work at the acupuncture clinic, I emailed the story to the editor. When I turned on my computer this afternoon, I found an from her email waiting for me. She said she had a few questions about the article, which she had noted in the document attached to the email. When the attachment wouldn't open, a wave of panic washed over me.  I immediately assumed that she had changed her mind about running the article, that she didn't like my approach, that I sounded like a flake. I started to ask myself how I could have agreed to do this.

And then I got the attachment to open through a different program. I breathed a huge sigh of relief to see that she only had a few suggestions on wording and requests to expand a couple of ideas. My ego remained intact, and I am thankful to have such a gentle guide through this process.

For the past few days, I've had similar anxieties regarding my jewelry. While my intent in submitting my creations for consideration was simply to flex my courage muscles by putting my work out there, often, I feel like the focus has shifted to whether or not I will be accepted. I worry that my developing creative spark will be snuffed out instead of stoked into a brightly burning flame. I know that my challenge through all of this will be to continue to nurture my creativity despite how it is received - or passed over - by others.  You see, these endeavors have become a trapdoor into my soul, leading me to a richer understanding of myself and a deeper faith in my potential. I am determined to keep that little door open, pushing it wider, creating more space as I go along.