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Hope. 2026 brings hope. We must hold on to hope, to doing, to engagement, to each other. The work must continue challenging as it is at times. We must continue to "do our little bits of good". For me, art is one of those ways to hold on, though I must admit that it's been a struggle to create work over that last year or so.
I'm not one for resolutions or goals. Yet this year, well actually, at the end of last year, I was invited to join "The Nudge Club". It's a group of professional artists from the Adrian Center for the Arts who meet once a month to support each other’s practices - to give each other a little accountability poke. Apparently, I'm not the only one who's been struggling with roadblocks to painting: jammed studio space, no schedule, procrastination, sadness, stuck, blank canvas syndrome, bored, fear, self-criticism, bookkeeping woes... So I joined. We've met twice, set a goal, and action steps. Each month we meet to review the goal and action items. In the spirit of the club, here is my goal for the year: bring joy and fun back into my painting process. Say what!? Isn't being an artist pure fun? I can say: not all of it. Part of the joy got lost in the mire of having to report taxes. There is a lot of detailed bookkeeping/accounting required as a small art business. It eats a surprising amount of non-fulfilling time, yet, on the upside, being a small business can offer significant tax benefits. Thinking about the money-side of being an artist can be a turn-off. Don't get me wrong, it's a thrill when someone appreciates my work enough to want to purchase it. But with a lot of business/marketing work consuming so much time, the fun took a hit the last couple years. I've learned a lot about accounting and record-keeping. I found a very helpful bookkeeper who graciously went through my books and explained some of the confusing parts (like tracking inventory, actual cost of goods sold vs. cost of goods). In addition, Hannah Cole, an artist/tax consultant that I follow online, just came out with a book called Taxes for Humans. It was a Christmas present to me. As a result, I'll be taking in more of her tips. Keeping up with my receipts and costs will be key again this year. My hope is that this year paperwork feels less burdensome and mind-sucking. My hope is that through little nudges and a wonderful art support group, paint will be pouring freely again. My hope is that once again, I feel the thrill of watching colors mix on the page. My hope is that you and I notice the many moments of love, kindness, and beauty that still surround us even during the most troubling times, knowing that 2026 brings hope, knowing that HOPE is an action verb.
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 Serendipity (Watercolor, 4'x3') Hello Out There! Sorry to have been away from posting for so long. So much has happened - going back for my Masters in Studio Art, pandemics, cancer. I'm fine and still painting. Since the last post, I've also relied more heavily on some art shows, Facebook and Instagram along with News on my website to keep in touch. Instagram? Facebook? Don't use it? Avoid it? Understandable. But being an artist is solitary work. Knock, knock. Is anyone there? For artists, social media is a quick and powerful way to share work, to be seen, to get feedback. Yet, sharing work so publicly can be a very scary prospect. However, I honestly often don't know what to make of some of my watercolors. So, I'll often post them to Facebook or Instagram or do a small fair or even submit a painting for entry in an exhibition. Sometimes, I'll even post a painting as it is in progress (a very crazy thing to do). Why not let folks see the process, I think, for better or worse? And the results are heartwarming. People are kind, or kind enough not to get too critical. It's very touching when what drives me to paint a scene or a more abstract piece, resonates or connects with another. Is that why I paint? To get a ‘thumbs up' from folks? No. I paint because something moves me - a scene, a color, a feeling. It's an internal, often subconscious, conversation about feelings. The result is often a myriad of feelings: surprise, curiosity, peace, excitement, sometimes frustration. What IS this? The internal conversation is often quite critical. So, I often ask you to join the conversation. And, just like a painting may move you, getting your feedback touches me, encourages me to continue. At shows, there are smiles and chats about the impact of the piece, about your own art, or lack thereof, or maybe even the weather. Sharing creates conversation. It offers a break from the sometimes difficult whirling thoughts and talk of the day - yours, mine. But perhaps, more importantly, art itself provides an unspoken internal conversation between you and the painting. And the result might just lead you to have your own a myriad of feelings. So, thank you for your thumbs up or hearts, hugs, smiles, comments, even for no remarks. Thank you for coming to an art show or reception. Thank you for your companionship along this journey. Most of all thank you for the conversations. |
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