Written Saturday, November 14, 2020
Art is kind of a strange business. In fact, simply associating the
words "art" and "business" is a bit strange in itself.
However, for those of us who make art from which we derive some sort of income,
business is part of the picture.
The question I want to explore today is how do artists define their success? Coming from the perspective of a working artist, here are some
of my observations:
And then there are others who measure success by the satisfaction
they get from making art, the fulfillment of that inner urge to create and set
free the artistic voice within them. The simple (or highly complex) act of
making art is their measure of success.
I maintain there is no a clear way for artists to truly define success. I've been at it for a good, long while and I've produced some art that's been profoundly satisfying (not to mention some I've enjoyed shredding). Making art hasn't made me monetarily rich but I've earned a decent income. I've shown work all over in a wide range of settings with diverse bunches of art-makers. I've been fortunate to win some awards here and there along the way. I've known the joy of teaching and of reveling in those "ah-ha" moments when a student perfects a skill or grasps a concept. I've had some formal art education, earned some credentials, and learned techniques and tips from inspiring individuals. Each of these experiences has offered some sense of achievement but none completely define me or my art, both of which will always be works in progress. Nor do these experiences offer a yardstick by which to measure the success of what I do. In my mind, success as an artist is not tangible. It has more to do with an inner sense of satisfaction.
Today, during the Mayne Island Fall 2020 Studio Tour, on a cold, damp November day in the midst of a global pandemic, I opened my little art studio.
I donned my mask, sanitized my hands, bundled up, and from a spot just outside my studio (it's too small inside to allow proper social distancing) I welcomed a steady trickle of visitors. Some were aspiring artists interested in learning, some were shopping, some said they were impressed by my art, some simply chatted, some said very little, and others I'm quite certain had come just to look at my artfully built studio. I sold a few things and I had some excellent conversations with new acquaintances and familiar friends alike about art, island life, and other topics. In between, while warming up indoors, I attended to email and did a bit of bookkeeping. I also observed the goings-on of birds - pine siskins in the trees above the studio, juncos in the birdbath, hummingbirds at the feeder - as I took time out for a cup of tea.
After closing the studio and before November's early darkness set in I entertained Lily with some ball-throwing. All in all was a very satisfying day.
And that's how this particular artist measures success.