From Behind The Camera

Please enjoy our guest article from Luann Udell,

How to Give Without Being Taken Part 2

by Luann Udell

This post is by Luann Udell, regular contributing author for FineArtViews.  You should submit an article and share your views as a guest author by clicking here.

Last time I gave you some suggestions on how to handle requests to donate your art work.  Today, here’s a simple yet elegant way to say YES, NO or MAYBE to those requests. 

The most important tip of all:

BE PREPARED TO BE ASKED

Have a set piece to say when you get the request.

Being prepared to be asked will help you answer in a professional manner.  It will keep you from getting caught off-guard and responding poorly or too quickly.  It will give you time to time to make up your mind.  It will get you the information you need to make a good decision.  It will give you a gracious “out” if the answer is no.  And it will leave a door open for you to change your mind some day.

This set piece can be adapted for almost any situation.

Good Cause person:  “Luann, we’re having a big fundraising event for the XYZ society next month, and we’re asking a number of local artists to donate something for the silent auction.  We’d love to have your work!”

Luann:  “Oh, I’m so honored to be asked!  Can you tell me more?”

Now is the time to ask:  What exactly is this cause? (If you’re not already familiar with it.)  Is it one that aligns with your values?

Who are their patrons?  Who will be at the event? Are they your customers, or your prospective customers?

What other artists were asked, who else accepted, and what is the value of the pieces they’re donating? This will give you some idea whether you want to participate or not, and what company you’ll be in if you accept.  And if you accept, what you’re being asked for—a $25 gift certificate or a $2,000 painting.

Once you’ve heard all the details, figure out if you want to participate or not, or if you simply need more time to think about it.  The following covers all three options.  (Actually, it covers four…)

Luann:  “That sounds lovely, and I wish I could help you out.  However, I’m swamped with requests from many deserving organizations.  I can’t possibly oblige them all.  What I do is collect all the requests ahead of time in writing.  Then (once a year, twice a year, whatever time you want) I choose (one or two causes) to donate to.”

Now, here’s the creative part:

If you don’t want to contribute, you add, “I’m so sorry, I’ve already made my selections for charity donations for this year.  But I’d be delighted to consider your request for next year’s list.  Can you give me information about this year’s event, and *contact me by such-and-such a date next year?”  (*Note: If you might donate next year, let them know they need to ask again.  If you don’t want to donate, don’t ask them to contact you again and just forget to offer.)

If you aren’t sure you want to contribute, you say, “I’m making my decision for this period in a few weeks, and I’d be happy to consider your request.  Can I get all the information from you, and let you know my decision then?”

If you want to help but don’t want to donate your work, you say, “I’m so sorry, I’ve already made my selections for charity donations this year.  But I support your cause and would like to help in some other way.  May I purchase an ad in the auction program?”  (Or make a cash donation, or offer a private lesson, or a private studio visit, etc.)

If you decide to donate, you still give the set piece.  But you’ve also laid out the conditions and raised the bar.

Let’s say the audience is your targeted audience and the terms of donation are reasonable and fair to artists.  For example, the artists will get their “gallery price” or wholesale price, and/or you can set a minimum bid. You can still use the set piece to explain how your process works, and then accept their invitation.

This shows you are a professional and you understand what is being asked.  It asks for them to treat you in a professional matter, too, and helps them understand what they are asking for.

The beauty of this little set piece is, you can use it to say, “yes”, “no” or “maybe”.  You can use it to say no, and still leave a door open.  (I’ve had people thank me for refusing them so graciously, and for giving them a chance to ask again another time.)

You can use it to say yes, and not lock yourself into saying “yes” next year, and the year after—unless you want to.

Everybody wins, and nobody has to feel bad.  That’s the kind of solution I like best!
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Three Pronged Success

According to renowned painter Alex Powers, “Design trumps skill. Emotion trumps design.” Did Powers get it right? I looked to this year’s top prize-winning paintings from the American Watercolor Society and Transparent Watercolor Society shows for my answer. Both awards went to our friend John Salminen.

AWS 2010 Winner: Morning Fog

Salminen clears the first hurdle of strong skill and design with room to spare. His work is intricate and highly skilled. It’s as if he’s weaving a tapestry one thread at a time. The result is a rich and rewarding up-close experience of pattern and texture. Yet when we step back, the painting works as a very pleasing complete whole. John makes it all look effortless.

SKYLEDGE FIRST PLACE AWARD in the 2010: Washington Square

What about emotional content? Here John’s attention to source material is critical. He and his wife Kathy travel with the express purpose of gathering strong images. They capture hundreds of scenes. Only a few meet John’s high standards. Even then, he adjusts values and hues until the scene resonates with a mood. Long after we become accustomed to our amazement at John’s technical skills, the mood of the painting lingers. It’s mood that separates Salminen’s work from the other paintings in the show.

Clearly John has found a winning combination. The triple strengths of skill, design, and emotional content will make his paintings strong contenders in watercolor shows for years to come.

Attacking Anxiety

Soon I will have one of those milestone birthdays that removes any doubt about the demographic to which I belong. Unlike previous decade markers, this one has caused me a bit of anxiety. I feel like I’m running out of time to get good at painting. But I’m here now, and I can’t turn back the clock.

My anxiety sucks away my focus when I paint. It’s like waging a war on two fronts: struggling with art and trying to stifle the voice that says, “Why waste your time doing this when so many other things need your attention? No one cares but you.” That voice poisons the creative juices.

This is my counterattack: I tell the voice to shut up. I’ve earned the right to do what I want. It’s my turn. I strive to stay focused on the present moment and confront the challenges as they come. I try not to have anxiety about the result. If I attend to my process, the results should be fine.

There is a side benefit. Living in the present moment with a focus on process helps me dedicate myself to whatever challenge I face, artistic or otherwise. I will be less likely to squander time with worry, guilt and anxiety about what other people think. That’s a real time saver.

Cheers,
Lynn

Pet Peeve

I have a pet peeve. My framer shared with me that he had purchased a fantastic new painting. His painting was executed by a flock of ducks that had been herded through puddles of paint and onto white paper. My framer bought and framed the painting. (Note to self: Do not ask framer’s opinion of my work.)

The framer had accidently hit upon one of my pet peeves. I disagree with the idea that the mindless casual splashing of pigments on paper is art. It may be play, sport or perhaps animal husbandry, but not art. That concept of art could be a result of misunderstanding the work of Jackson Pollack. Pollock did indeed pour and fling paint, but he did so with studied calculation.

Art is not an accident. At its very least, art is a skill born of practice. At best, art is the result of years of study and introspection. It is not the by-product of a few minutes of throwing paint around, or in the case of the ducks, tracking paint across paper.

I shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks of painters but, it’s a bit discouraging to have years of focused effort compared to footprints from water fowl.

Thank you for listening….

Not for the Faint of Heart

Sometimes painting feels like riding a trapeze. We swing from thrill to disappointment in minutes, if not seconds. Recently, I was at an opening for a local show, laughing with a friend about the creative process. He was describing how happy he can be with his progress on a painting only to watch himself destroy it with a few horribly placed strokes. Rather than pausing to contemplate, he watches himself do it a couple more times. I knew exactly what he was talking about.

It’s all too easy to think we alone are the hapless artist, that good artists have never watched themselves destroy a painting. But actually the opposite is true. To grow in art, one must be willing to fail. The trick is learning from our failures.

The good artists build on a foundation of years of struggle, the way Virginia Cobb has. Abstract painters run the risk of creating solutions that all look very similar. That is not the case with Virginia. She creates problems in order to find innovative solutions. She does not play it safe. Her creative process keeps her work fresh and surprising.

As with so much else in art, we need to find our own path. It’s a rare path that does not include a pot hole now and then. It’s not the frustrations that make or break success, it’s what happens afterwards. Art is not for the faint of heart.

Inching Toward a Personal Style

As students, after we become comfortable with techniques and materials, we face the challenge of finding a personal style. To improve our techniques, we are taught to look to authorities for answers. Personal style, however, requires us to be hyper-sensitive to our own creative voice. The gap between these two ways of processing is huge.

I believe we see evidence in our everyday lives that can help us recognize what we can expect or strive for in authentic, personal art. This is only a theory, but it may help some artists cross the gap to a unique style.

Here are a few examples from my life. I am comfortable with a modest level of disorder and unpredictability in my life but not chaos. I enjoy controlled risks but need some level of input. I find unique-looking people more attractive than classic beauties. I care about the story behind an outcome as much as the outcome itself. These realizations freed me to accept similar qualities in my art; some looseness, a process-oriented approach, portraits of faces that aren’t traditionally beautiful, and a willingness to let the medium have its way now and then.

My style doesn’t fully reflect my life, yet. I decorate with strong color and values in our home, and I see that lacking in my paintings. So I have more work to do. But this theory gives me something to ponder while painting, and with each portrait I inch closer to my personal style.

A Mother’s Narrow Path

I want for any artist what I want for myself: A strong foundation that permits me to pursue my own vision with conviction and confidence. I especially want this for my daughter. But building that foundation takes time, determination and occasionally, really thick skin.

As a mom and daughter of artists, I recognize that children of all ages can be stagnated by compliments as well as criticism. Just as a big prize in an art show can sway our direction, we can sway our children with praise. This is particularly tough for Mothers and Grandmothers. We want to encourage, but there’s a snarl. We run the risk of being discounted by giving too much praise too easily. We do our loved ones no favors by inflating their egos or letting them grow up expecting everyone will love what they do. They need the courage of their conviction.

Our praise changes with age, of course. We encourage little children differently than older kids. I hope educators have this all figured out. I don’t.

As I see it, there is a narrow path we mothers walk with cliffs on either side. We want to encourage without killing a natural style, to praise without causing our child to stagnate, to toughen without making them insensitive. As with any labor of love, we can only make our best, honest effort and apologize afterwards if we stray from that narrow path.

Happy Mother’s Day! Lynn

Little Frustrations

Last week I made a comment about “the general low opinion of flower paintings” in respect to art shows, and I’d like to clarify what I meant. I do not hold a low opinion of floral work AT ALL. I was pointing out an attitude I’ve noticed in shows across the country. To me, a fantastic flower painting is one of the toughest pieces to paint. The complexity of flowers (so many petals!), the play of light on transparent and translucent objects, soft and hard edges, intricate designs, and the challenge of conveying emotional content are all really tough.

I don’t have the patience to paint flowers. One of the reasons I paint faces is that there are so few features. My hope is that by limiting the complexity of my subject, I can improve the quality. Time will tell.

On that note, I’ve been frustrated lately. It seems there is almost always something that doesn’t quite come together. I may be mildly pleased with how the paint goes down only to find that the placement of the model’s right eye is a bit off. It would have been nice to have noticed that flaw when I was in the drawing phase, but I didn’t.

Yes, I’m discouraged. Luckily the Tuesday/Thursday model sessions will be over soon, and the plein air season will begin. I know plein air will bring its own frustrations, but at least I get to pack a lunch. That helps.

I’ll begin baking cookies with lots of chocolate any time now.

Cheers, Lynn

Art Show Conundrum

I’m an advocate of entering art shows, but every time we enter, we create a mine field of potential problems for ourselves. If we receive an award, we may think, “Ah ha! I’m on the right track!” It we don’t, the reverse can happen: “Who in the heck did I think I was to even try!” or “Clearly that juror totally missed my point!”

Art shows are a venue for teachers to get exposure and exciting new artists to get noticed. On the other hand, a major show can direct the drift of accepted design styles, subject matter and even how the medium is used. One only need listen to the constant argument between transparent watercolorists and those who use watercolor in a more opaque fashion. Another example the general low opinion of flower paintings.

On a more personal level, we are challenged by shows. I think the real risk is that we let show results influence our own vulnerable inner voice. Win or lose, this is a risk. To be true to our own vision, we need to recognize the difference between so-called success (i.e. winning) and developing who we are as artists. Frequently the two do not mesh. I think the biggest risk occurs if we’ve won an award with a piece that was painted for the juror and not authentic to ourselves.

I’ve noticed distinct qualities in the artists we’ve worked with at Creative Catalyst. The best of them are humble about their work, they are never completely satisfied, they listen to their own creative voice, and they continue to search. Fostering those traits will take us farther than any competition can.

I maintain that it’s good to enter shows. I think it’s valuable to see our work hanging among the work of other artists. Now and then it’s important to push a painting to completion. A show will help us see if our idea of that goal falls short or if we need to put our shoulder to the wheel a bit longer. We just can’t let shows be the sole driving force in our artistic development.

Cheers, Lynn

Guilt Free Time

So much of painting is simply finding the time and mental space to do it. I’ve noticed that people who are not painters think painting can be turned on and off or squeezed in between other commitments. Perhaps that is a leftover from the days of paint by number. It’s never been that way for me. I need to feel like I’m not rushed, that no one is waiting for me and that I’m pretty much caught up with all my work.

I’ve recognized this mindset, and in order to get around it I’ve scheduled several regular gatherings with other painters. I drive with a friend to an open studio at the university two nights a week. I’m also part of a portrait painter foursome that meets regularly. My scheme to create enough painting opportunities that no single situation feels precious. I don’t want to feel like I have to produce – the less pressure the better.

My family is supportive. There are no battles there. Jim is fine with sandwiches for dinner, again. But I still catch myself discounting the importance of my guilt-free painting time. It feels totally selfish, yet I know it’s the foundation of everything else I want to achieve.

Look for the Good

I’ve written many times in the past that we artists must learn to critique our own work, and part of our critique process is to identify what we like about what we do. There are two practical reasons why this is important.

We have to inspire ourselves to put time into our art. To get good, as Craig Nelson so rightly says, takes “brush miles.” I’ve found it’s much easier to put in the miles if I have a sense of hope. Hope is energizing. If I can find one or two things I like about each painting, however small, it’s as if a seed has been planted and just needs time and nurturing to grow. If I’m frustrated with everything, it takes a real act of willpower to return to the easel. I need the counterbalance of small successes. And sometimes they are really small.

We also need to recognize our own developing styles. Identifying just one small area that works within a painting or collage can keep our artistic growth headed in the right direction. When we sense some pleasure in seeing those areas develop, it is valuable to take note. This is not hubris, it’s observation, and it is certainly not necessary to be pleased with the entire painting.

Everyone’s tastes are different, but the only person you need to please is yourself. Without knowing what you like and don’t like, you have little chance of ever being happy with your work.

Entry Honesty

Happily, I was accepted into the Watercolor Society of Oregon spring show. Before I send off my painting I’m supposed to fill out a short questionnaire. Question 2 asks, “How does your art reflect not only you and what you care about but also the times in which you live?”

I try to be absolutely honest when I answer questions such as this, but I may be sharing more than they want to know.

My art reflects me in that it’s pure watercolor. It’s all I do. I’ve just recently started to feel like I was gaining some ground in the medium so I’m very hesitant to try anything else. Even with all the wonderful artists who have come through the Creative Catalyst studio, I’ve not changed media. I recognize that this is sort of nuts or stubborn and that it’s probably another reflection of me.

What do I care about? My painting is of a vendor at the Saturday produce market in town. The vendor appears to feel just fine about being who he is, no more, no less. He is not swept up by current events. He’s solid. I like that.

And finally, Times in which we live? Who the heck can get a handle on the times in which we live? I missed the entire decade of the ’60s, and apparently the ’70s, and maybe more. I’m not getting any quicker with the ’10s either. Why do they ask these things?

On to Question 3.

Uh oh.

Community Support Idea

In the past few years, several of the artists in my critique group have donated paintings to a local charity auction that supports art and art education in our community. It’s a noble cause, but several of my friends who participated have felt used and misunderstood. Their experience makes me wish more people outside the art world understood the value of our work.

After a fundraiser, my friends are out the cost of framing while the buyers walk away with originals for much less then the price they’d pay in a gallery. Times are already hard for artists, yet my friends felt pressured by the charity to give their work away. These artists want to use their talents to support a good cause, but they don’t want to diminish the value of their paintings in the process.

A teacher of mine believes we should never donate our original art. He thinks it undercuts the value of all our work and creates an expectation that we will donate again. He thinks a society that expects art for little or nothing does not deserve it, and he feels people value art more if it has a high price tag.

I think we need a middle ground, and our critique group tried to find one. Our idea is to have a well publicized art auction with starting bids equal to the cost of framing. This reimburses the artists. If no one is willing to pay for framing then the artist keeps the painting. After framing costs are paid, the artist and the charity split proceeds evenly. The artist can, of course, choose to donate her half back to the organization and take the tax deduction. It’s a win-win: the charity raises money while respecting and valuing the artist’s role.

I’m not sure where I stand on this issue. But it is clear to me that many non-artists think artistic talent is born of some gift from on high, not gained through effort and expense on the part of the artist. That is a myth we would be wise to debunk.

Creative Reserve

I’ve written in the past about the importance of creating a reserve of materials and ideas. Nothing feels quite so good as a stockpile of great reference materials and sketches. But it’s also important to build a creative reserve. I’m learning that as artists, we cannot continually make withdrawals from our creative accounts without making a deposit now and then.

The artists we work with here at Creative Catalyst have vast creative reserves. Their worlds include attending meetings, entering shows, and visiting different parts of the country. They do not need more visual stimulation. They need time to paint.

Those of us who don’t get out as often must seek out artistic stimulation. Let curiosity be your guide: visit a new shop or gallery, go to lunch somewhere different, or check out new materials. Shake things up. It is easy to get stuck in a comfortable rut. It impacts the freshness of our work. We forget it’s important to have fun, to play, and to explore. If you find that you are hitting a wall, take a moment to think about the last time was you treated yourself to a deposit in your creative account.

Cheers,
Lynn Powers

Words of Caution

The words of caution are, don’t be. As usual, I’m writing this for myself. It’s something I need to hear.

Each of us has only so much time on this earth. Especially in art, any time we spend being afraid of our own inner voice is a waste of a limited resource. Oscar Wilde said it best, “Be yourself, everyone else is taken!”

Years ago, an instructor pointed out that more women than men attend workshops. He then pointed out that more men than women enter shows. He wondered why that was. It was not due to lack of talent. I believe it’s because women are generally taught to be more cautious than men. This caution has spilled over into an arena where it has no place.

It is important to become proficient with the medium. It provides the freedom to think about what we are doing and not just how we are doing it. However, at some point we need to step out on that invisible bridge of self guidance with fearless gusto.

So onward and upward.