23 January 2006

Arguing on the Internet...

is like running in the Special Olympics -- isn't that what they say? (Even if you win, you're still retarded, is how the joke goes if you haven't heard it.)

I have wasted the better part of the day arguing on the Craigslist arts forum, with a person of questionable integrity. I don't know if "waste" is the right word, though -- I mean, it was fairly intellectually stimulating and fun, but there are FAR better uses of my time.

I have a tendency, from time to time, to get addicted to these stupid things. I think it's because I crave some sort of intellectual exchange, although that's rarely what's provided. It does provide a certain amount of stimulation, a little bit of adrenaline....but does it have inherent value?

What worries me is that so much verbiage is spilled on the internet, rather than in any sort of quantifiable format. What will future historians look at? Instead of written correspondence, people use email. Instead of physical diaries, people use blogs such as this one. Is there any one entity that is keeping a catalogue, a record, of these times? Will all our degradable, flawed media stand the test of time?

But even more -- the quickly fired-off angry post, the flippant email -- how does it represent us as a people? No longer do you have the valuable moments it takes to address the envelope & hunt down a stamp to let your better judgment come into play. Now, as quickly as you hit send, it's in the world, complete with all of your slips of the tongue and angry moments.

Email is hard to take back. Posting on an internet forum, even more so.

Not that I have any regrets. Well, unless all of my writing is lost one day because it's all on the internet.

21 January 2006

The Zen of Telemarketing

Right after I graduated from art school, my goal was to work the least amount of hours I could for the most money so that I could have time in my studio. Which led me to, unbelievably, telemarketing, something I NEVER thought I would do, and which I am still loath to admit.

I would sit in a little carpet covered cubicle with a bunch of down-on-their-luck chainsmokers, and call people and ask them if they wanted to change their interest rate on their mortgage. I did this because in four hours a night I could make what I would make in an 8 hour day at my old job, so the remaining hours of the day could be spent at the studio.

Do you know anyone in the world that is nice to telemarketers? Okay, a few people say yes -- hence the fat funds -- but most people go to the greatest lengths of rudeness that any rejection can have.

It taught me a few things: 1)any verbal onslaught can be survived. 2) people, in general, enjoy being assholes. 3) rejection is meaningless. It's a zero-sum equation -- if you hadn't even tried, you'd be in exactly the same place. 4) Never give up. Someone will eventually say yes.

Better lessons than anything my student loans paid for, to be sure.

18 January 2006

Balancing Art, Money, & Life...

(caveat: I actually posted this on the Craigslist Arts Forum, but thought it belonged here, too -- so it probably won't sound exactly the same as the rest of the blog...)

This is the thing artists struggle with more than anything. It also goes far to explain why many of the artists who "make it" seem to have a fair amount of money. Not only does the money give them better promotional materials, better supplies and technology, and bigger studios, it gives them the one, most important thing: TIME.

I am one of the few artists I know who was LUCKY enough to get to spend 3 years in the studio, making art while making a living off of it. (And yes, luck did have a fair amount to do with it -- but more on that in a second.) It ended with 9.11, which, in the grand scheme of things is a pretty minor tragedy, but I'm still a little bitter about it. My career totally changed within months -- I had New York galleries interested in me that just went away, all of my out of town galleries closed, all sales stopped -- luckily, my wonderful husband Rick had a stable job, so we've survived, but I hate being a drain on the family resources. In the midst of major depression and after months of staring at the walls in my studio, I began applying for jobs. However, with no recent experience on my resume I had a tough time. (Oh -- you're an artist? Don't you mean CRACKHEAD, slacker?)

Feeling that I had nothing to say, I wanted to escape being an artist -- and so, I opened a store (Pod) that sold handmade goods, which was meant to become my day job. Except, I never reached the point I could pay myself and made VERY bad decisions regarding who I would allow to be my partner. 2 1/2 years later, I've finally started to figure out how to make it work -- it's evolved from a shop to a gallery (Capsule), with a heavy studio component in the building and a community screen printing shop that offers classes. Does it give me more time to be in the studio, as I had fantasized it would at the beginning? Hah! Much less than when I had a day job -- go figure. And yet, I can see things starting to evolve into a decent balance, and it's given me the chance to actually help others in the community, as well as a higher profile. (Sometimes higher than I am comfortable with, frankly.) A big drawback to the "higher profile" thing is that people now see me as a gallery owner more than an artist -- something I am fighting tooth and nail. (There's nothing more chilling to hear, after 15 years showing in one town with a brief 2 year hiatus, than: "Oh, you're an artist?" Oh, the horror!)

Now the luck part: how did I get to spend 3 years just making art? Through both good luck, and what at the time I thought was bad luck. I had begun selling more work, and had finally gotten a couple of out-of-town galleries, but still had a day job. My co-op gallery (ILK) had arranged for a show in Philadelphia, and my husband's band (PW3) was playing in NYC, so we loaded up my new van (new to me, anyway, and the first "real" car I'd ever had, complete with payments and insurance, thankfully) and drove out east. It was a great trip, in spite of the fact that my van inexplicably caught fire and BURNED, with no one anywhere near it and with my portfolio and all my slides inside (they were damaged, but rescue-able). I was stranded in Brooklyn while I tried to deal with the insurance, heading to Philly to hang the show, and getting what was left of my stuff back to Denver, and in the midst of this extended "vacation", my job -- somewhat understandably -- went away.

This "bad" luck, however, became good. Through some vicious, tooth-and-nail fighting with the insurance company, I was $5000 ahead, thanks to my prudent shopping, since I had paid well under blue book for the van. THAT was the cushion I needed, and also the push. Since I didn't have a job, anyway, I figured I'd just make art until I had to get a job. As long as money was coming in, I would go to the studio every day, just like it was my day job.

That was the most blissful 3 years of my life, but not without it's struggles. We all think we want to go to the studio for 8 hours a day, but when faced with it, you realize how disciplined you have to be. Luckily, I'd spend the past 2 years doing telemarketing (that's right, you heard me -- but I could work 4 hours a day and get paid like it was 8 anywhere else, and definitely learned to handle rejection), so I was used to having most of the day in my studio, anyway. To really make it work, I did a lot of commissions through art consultants and wore a lot of other hats, all art-related -- teaching, illustration work, freelance graphic design, sewing, and so on.

I'm also lucky in that I had a spouse that was willing and able to support me (however frugally), and also supported what I should be doing, in spite of what I had chosen. While he supported me financially while the shop was open, he also constantly told me that the shop was a mistake, that I should be in the studio making art. (How's that for a change-up?)

I didn't mean for this to get so long -- this is practically my life story. But it's such a complex question, and I feel that every choice in my life has revolved around trying to solve this issue of balance. It's been on my mind a LOT lately, and most of my New Year's resolutions have something to do with it. I'm finding that what works is to try to keep to a balanced schedule -- keeping regular, committed studio hours, even if all you manage to do is wash a few brushes and do some grunt work, you're THERE. Trying to balance that with being a small business owner is also a huge struggle, but still better than my experiences when I had a day job, since it gives me flexibility. And I'm getting closer to being able to pay myself, as well as trying to piece my career back together.

Anyway -- that's how I've dealt with it, this far, as well as a frickin' story of my life. If you're still reading this far -- what, don't you have anything better to do? Get to your studio, already!