The Pressure Of Making Art For A Living

Brothers Matt and Jesse Brass are working on an amazing series of films right now entitled "Making Art".  I just had to share part three of their series entitled "Pressure" where they interview artist Preston Farabow about the pressure of making art for a living.   If you like this one, make sure to check out the other videos in their series!

Happy Friday!


Pressure: Preston Farabow from Matt Brass on Vimeo.

If you want to know more about the series click here for a great behind the scenes interview with the brothers about their project that was featured on artsology.com!

Proper Practice Prevents Poor Performance, and Other Obnoxious Inspirational Notions We Really Wish Weren't True

Shut up, chalkboard.

This week's challenge is one of those simple-stupid things that seem so easy, so obvious, that they barely deserve mention. But let's be real -- how many days so far this week have you actually set aside 30 minutes to create art??

If you just had a stream of protests and excuses come screaming to the front of your brain about why you haven't been keeping up, don't worry -- you're not the only one. If you're like me, it's probably because you're busy -- or at least you believe you are. Or maybe it's because you totally set the time aside, but when you sat down in front of that empty screen or canvas, you couldn't think of anything to make.

Let's rewind. When you first read Monday's challenge, did it remind you of anything? Maybe something that involves people clad in spandex with their smiling promise of rock hard abs in six weeks? That's right, we're coming up on Obnoxious Inspirational Notion #1:

1) The brain (and creativity) is just like any other muscle, and can atrophy without regular use.

The good news here is muscles can always be rebuilt - though if you've been away from something for a long time, it's probably going to take longer to get back into the swing of things. That's okay.

The bad news is, the brain is technically not a muscle. So yeah. Take that, stupid metaphor!

Despite its Biology FAIL status, Notion #1 makes a great point -- all that creativity isn't just going to flow out of your fingertips if you haven't been training yourself to direct your creative energy their way. But before you start the artist equivalent of a Rocky montage, I want you to remind yourself that if you're finding it challenging to actually make art everyday, it will get easier as your creativity muscles grow. As that devilish belle Scarlet O'Hara once said, "Tomorrow is another day." Do your best today, and then do your best tomorrow. Don't let one day's failure because the thing that keeps you from trying again. I promise, you got this.

Challenge #18: Just Do It

Last week, we pondered the question, "Is an artist still an artist if they're not creating?" While I don't pretend to have the answer to that, I do have an answer to the general feeling of malaise and confusion about life that may result from a failure to make art -- and it's GENIUS! Are you ready??

Just. Do. It.

Sorry Nike, I know that's kinda your catch phrase and all, but really, it applies to so much more than athletic footwear.

Sometimes (okay, all the time), I don't feel like taking the dogs for a walk in the morning. But I do it anyway -- sleepy, grumpy, and generally zombified though I may be -- and by the time we get done with our walk, I'll have woken up, the dogs will have used up some of their crazy energy, and I'll get to come home feeling productive. Not to mention that getting up out of the computer chair every now and then is actually good for me. But when that alarm clock starts screaming at way-the-F-too-early o' clock, the only thing that keeps me from smashing the snooze button with the vengeance of a thousand She-Hulks is one simple phrase: just do it.

Art creation can happen under similar circumstances. It certainly did in college, at least for me -- the teacher would give an assignment, and I would work on it. Usually leaving most of the work until the last minute, but still, I would work on it. Whether I felt relaxed and inspired, or if I felt stressed and exhausted, I still did it, because at the end of that project was a grade, and that grade could decide the future of my degree.


"Real life," as many of us post-college noobs have taken to calling it, comes with the same demands -- it can just be a bit harder to understand how our actions will affect our future. Being in school gives us an artificial sense of movement and accomplishment, with graduation acting as the finish line. Once you're out of school, there aren't any finish lines, or checkpoints, or advisors waiting for you to come in for a degree check. You're just existing, same as everyone else, and you have to be accountable to yourself when it comes to setting and accomplishing goals.

Therefore, dear reader, this week we're challenging you to stop waiting for a teacher or a client to put the pressure on you before you create. JUST DO IT -- take 30 minutes every day to work on art. Even if you don't finish a piece this week, you'll still be a lot closer to finishing than you were when you started. Now grab your swag, and get creating!

My Own Personal Abyss

The lights have been out at the Abyss since last Monday, in the name of detoxing from our constantly-connected world. I'll be honest -- I haven't been the best patient. In my defense, our detox week coincided with my attempt to buy a house (to all you homeowners out there, I don't know how you did it without going insane, but hot dang I applaud you for it), so the interwebbies became even more present then usual in my life.

That said, even just taking a break from the blog caused a real shift in my schedule and sense of availability. Writing and/or editing two to three posts a week, keeping up with Wreck This Journey, and making sure to get my collaboration sessions on with Kadie all take up significant chunks of time in my life. While its a worthwhile way to spend my time, once I add in work, household maintenance (dogs aren't going to walk themselves), and socialization (friendships aren't going to take care of themselves either), I end up feeling like there's not a lot of time left in my day. This isn't the first time we've talked about the struggle to find time for everything, but today I want to share a sneaking suspicion I've had for a while: that it just can't be done, period.

Cue Scrubs' theme song:



True story, brah.

Here's the thing: I've always thought of my creative work (writing, drawing, sewing, painting, etc.) as the thing that I do after I get everything else done. The thing that will arise out of the void created by having "nothing to do" -- my time abyss, if you will. It's why I identify so well with the definition of "abyss" that we highlight here on the blog -- the primal chaos before creation.

Here's the problem: when exactly do I find myself with nothing to do? There is always something that I could be doing -- whether it's helping out family, or grocery shopping, or joining into that super-interesting conversation on Facebook about whether the latest fan theory on Labyrinth is awesome or SUPER-awesome (and if you just missed that reference, you absolutely desperately must go rent it, or Netflix it, or stream it, or whatever the kids are doing these days. No excuses.) -- and thus my expectation that time to be creative will just show up in the form of empty, unscheduled hours on my calendar has left me with very little art produced in the two years since I stopped having to make art for grades. For that matter, even when I was in school, I still wouldn't make art outside of what was assigned. Back then, I attributed it to inspiration fatigue -- but these days, I'm not so sure.

You've probably guessed where this thought process ends up:

Is an artist still an artist if they aren't creating?

 Good golly Miss Molly, I don't have the faintest idea of how to answer that question. The short version is "Yes?" with a question mark because while I wholeheartedly believe everyone has the creative capability to be an artist, and therefore if you identify as an artist, who am I to say differently; but at the same time, being an artist is arguably choosing to make the creative processing of inputs - aka, what most people think of a "creativity" - your life's work. The long version is "Maybe . . ." followed by a long descent into rambling stress about how labels don't really help anyone anyway and how even DaVinci needed to eat, but then again, if I really was an artist, wouldn't I just feel compelled to make art all day long, everyday, and maybe I'm really just in the wrong field . . . You get the idea.

But here's the crux of the issue: instead of existing in a void where I have time to make nothing but art, at the moment I exist in an abyss devoid of art creation -- and that makes me sincerely question what the heck I think I'm doing with my life.

I'm reminded of the stories of the first trans-oceanic explorers, sailing off towards the horizon without any proof that there was going to be something waiting for them out beyond that infinite line of earth meeting sky. It takes faith to embark on such a voyage: that the water will give way to land, that the void will eventually become repopulated with something, and I'm not interested in turning back now -- but in the meantime, when it comes to art, I feel like I'm piloting a very small skiff into a vast and immeasurable darkness, where my inability (unwillingness?) to make time to create leaves me without oars or sail. That's a frightening thought.

I know, it sounds melodramatic. And in some ways it is -- there are far worse things in the world than being busy with family and friends and work and day-to-day life. But if we're going to truly change the way the creative world, and the world at large, currently does business, we have to stop only talking about the pretty, happy, pulled-together front that so many of us use to disguise how genuinely lost we are, because of some feeling that we don't 'deserve' to feel lost. That kind of pretense helps nobody.

Who's Laughing Now?

You are not a joke.

What I'm pretty sure most non-creative
people think of when they hear
I'm an artist. © Mitch O'Connell

Let me just say that one more time, YOU are not a joke.

One of the biggest challenges that I face as an artist (and that I think plagues most creative people) is this constant feeling of our profession being somehow silly and having to justify the importance of what we do all the time.  We sometimes get it from our family, when they constantly ask us when we're going to grow up and get a "real job."  Sometimes we get it from our friends, or our community, when we're asked, "So what do you do for a living?" We respond, and then are met with, "Oh… do you actually make money doing that?" But a lot of times, I think it simply comes from us.

It comes from us because we are scared.  As a society we have this idea that anyone who is creative and successful has somehow "beaten the odds."  Which sets up a very interesting idea that successful creative lives are not something readily attainable to the average person and can only be achieved by a handful of magically blessed individuals.  This is not true.

Creative professions are just like any other job, they take hard work and dedication but most of all, you have to take yourself seriously.  In most other professions, there are people who do a company's marketing, PR, accounting, market forecasting, selling, buying, social networking, negotiating, developing, production… etc.  You only have you.

You have to learn how to wear and juggle all those roles, or hire people to help you with them.

Most creative people fail because they think they can sit around in their studio all day making art and that if they were really good they would simply be "discovered."  When they are not magically "discovered" they give up, thinking their work was crap and that they were a joke.  However, they weren't a joke at all and they might have been very talented, they simply forgot to show up for all the other job titles they held.  Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue at a major company if only the creative department showed up for work everyday and the CEO and accountants and PR guys and marketing dudes all just disappeared?  Yet that is how most creative people treat their lives, and when they fail, they think they simply weren't talented enough, not that it had anything to do with the fact they were missing their support team.

There is an old saying that is more true in the creative fields than anywhere else I think:  the fastest way to get a job doing what you love is acting like you already have a job doing that thing; eventually all your pretending will turn into reality.  This is ridiculously true.

What you do is not a joke.  Yes, it may seem at times like, "Who is ever going to want to pay money for this thing that I made?  I mean, I'm nobody…" These are just our insecurities talking.  What we do has value, what we do is important, and what we do is not, and never will be a joke.  Which means we need to give it the honor and respect that it deserves.  We need to get serious about ourselves, we need to get serious about our creative well being, and, most importantly, we need to get serious about our work.  Because when we start taking ourselves and our own work seriously, people take notice.  Stop living your creative life apologizing for what you do and start taking pride in it instead.

On that note, I will leave you with this video from Jackie Battenfield, author of "The Artists Guide: How To Make A Living Doing What You Love."  If you are really looking for a place to get started in understanding how to get serious about your creative career, I HIGHLY suggest picking up a copy of Jackie's book.  It is down to earth, easy to read and full of fantastic information for creative individuals.  Enjoy, be inspired, and remember, You are not a joke.  :)

Encouragement: Just Ask

I have something to confess today -- and I'm still a little nervous about it.

But first, let's watch a video from the amazing people over at The Foundation for a Better Life.

Unfortunately, they don't allow embedding of their videos, but you can view it here!

Did you watch it?? I love that cheesy Hallmark stuff.

Yes, this is a commercial, but it's based on a real event. Think for a moment how AMAZING that kid must have felt. Taking a ginormous creative risk, and then not only not getting in trouble for it, but being actively encouraged and celebrated by a master pianist and an entire audience of concert-goers. I'm betting that kid grows up to be the next Rachmaninov, or another one of the guys on this list. Or maybe a guerrilla performance artist . . .

The point is, when we encourage someone to pursue their dreams, we're setting in motion a series of events fueled by positivity - positive thoughts, positive emotions, positive expectations. And that can lead to some really wonderful things, far beyond the scope of the initial encouragement.

This brings me back to my confession. Last night, I was trying to finally -- FINALLY -- send in an application to this totally amazing organization, after three weeks of hemming and hawing and struggling with the feeling that I just wasn't good enough. As an accountability measure, I sent up a flag on my Facebook page, telling people what I was doing and what I was afraid of, and what I hoped to accomplish. This is not something I normally  do - I prefer to let my problems figure themselves out, and then just report on the results. It's less messy that way, and leaves me feeling less vulnerable when I don't have to tell all my friends when something doesn't work out.

This time, however, I'm so very, very glad I did.

BAM! Just like that, the amazing Nancy Hankel (go read her blog, she's hilarious and awesome) and a book by Sheryl Sandberg gave me exactly the shot in the arm I needed -- why the heck shouldn't I apply??

With this in mind, I did send in my application. I have no idea how it's going to turn out -- but I do know that if I hadn't exposed myself just that little bit, I wouldn't have received the encouragement I needed. And if my friend hadn't taken that moment to cheer me on, I would be writing a very different story.

It's like Kadie wrote yesterday, encouragement is a two-way street. Sometimes you need it, sometimes someone else needs it. And if you can have to courage to express that need, or the generosity to see someone else's need and rise to the occasion, the world's going to see a lot more dreams pursued and fulfilled.

_____________________________________


It's not too late to get a super-awesome handmade encouragement postcard from The Art Abyss -- just email theartabyss@gmail.com with your mailing address info, and maybe even a little info about what you need encouragement on, if you like, and we'll get those cards in the mail and sent out to you ASAP!

Challenge #4: With A Little Help From Our Friends

From day one this website has been about keeping it real with other artists and creatives about the ups, the downs and all the in-betweens of living a creative life.  So let me just say straight out that last week was really rough for me emotionally.

I found myself feeling like everything I did was crap, like none of this “creative” stuff I do really matters and that nobody even cares that I do it at all. How could I have been foolish enough to think that anybody would really care about my work let alone want to pay me money for it!?  Basically I sat around having a pity party for myself wondering why I wasn't like a “normal” person, with a “normal” degree and a “normal” job where life would be so much much much less complicated.

But I don’t have to explain this to you guys, you know exactly what I mean I’m sure.  We’ve all been there at one time or another.

Sometimes in this creative life I lead I feel as if I am essentially drudging my way through some dark, murky and infinite abyss.  I keep flailing my arms about around me as I go, hoping to find some sort of hand rail, or wall, or defined pathway, to let me know I’m heading the right direction and not simply around in circles but all I ever seem to come up with is air.  So without any other recourse I simply keep plugging along in the darkness, hoping the direction I set out on will eventually get me to where I want to be and not into some bottomless pit, or off a cliff along the way.  Sounds enticing doesn’t it?

The beauty and the curse of a creative life is that it has no boundaries, it has no rules, it has no predecessors to simply follow along behind.  The course for everyone is their own, they get to make up their own rules, their own path and their own way to travel the distance to get to their goals.

I always find myself looking around at other creatives and thinking that their paths are so pretty, clearly labeled and that they look like they are traversing them so effortlessly.  While mine on the other hand resembles more of a swampland, combined with a mine field, and maybe a few ravenous wild zombies chasing me while I run around like a crazy person trying not to get blown up or drown in a pool of goo.

But that’s the thing, our paths never look as pretty to us as they do to others.  They never look as clear to us as others seem to perceive they are from the outside.  While we can get lost in a maze of our own making, others can look at our lives and see the beauty in the path we’ve followed.

I found myself thinking a lot about this while I was aimlessly wandering around my creative path, avoiding the ravenous zombies, this past week.

When I am lost in my head so deep that I can’t even see which way is up (like this past week), my friends are always there to offer that outside perspective and let me know which way is up again.  It’s so easy to loose track of where we are and how far we have come as creatives, that being given the gift of understanding how others see you from their perspective is one of the most amazing gifts that can be given to another artistic soul.

Creative people tend to be so insecure about their work and assume, no matter how many time you may tell them, that nobody likes what they do, or that nobody cares.  Hearing the contrary from another human being can be life altering.  It can literally mean the difference between someone throwing in the towel for good on their work or continuing to pursue their passions no matter the challenges they face.  A simple “Hey, I think what you do is amazing,” can literally be that important in the life of a creative person.

So on that note, the challenge I put to you this week is to encourage as many of your creative friends as possible!  Send them a hand written note, post a comment on their website, shoot them a message on Facebook, invite them to coffee, whatever, just let them know that you care and that you think they and their work are amazing and of great value.  You have no idea how much something that simple could change their life. If you can’t think of what to write or say, feel free to grab this weeks challenge badge to share with them!

Now, on the flip side of the coin, maybe YOU are the creative person who could really use this bit of encouragement in your life.  Maybe YOU need to hear that what you do matters, and that your work is of value and importance.  I learned a long time ago that there is nothing wrong with admitting that you need a little encouragement! (In fact, I think I pretty much told Kate point blank that I needed a pep talk last Monday at our weekly meeting) If that is the case, we have something special just for you!  Shoot us an e-mail at: theartabyss@gmail.com with your home mailing address and get ready to receive a little something special from us to you. (We promise your info will stay secure and that you won’t get on some weird mailing list.)  Make sure you get your address to us ASAP since we have a limited number of special somethings we can send out!

So there you have it lovely people, mission encourage a creative is officially a go!

If you’ve ever been creatively lost along your own path we’d love to hear about it! Drop us a line in the comment section below to share your story!

True Confessions Of A Guerrilla Artist

My oh so terrifying knit bomb...
you're terrified right?

The time was midnight, it was dark and clear and you could just hear the sound of the wind rustling in the trees.  I had scoped out the spot earlier that day; not a security camera in sight.  I threw my bag over my shoulders and crept along the sidewalk.  As I moved through the night, my black clothes helping me to disappear into the shadows, I focused all my will power on calming my racing heartbeat.  This was my first job, and as much as I had prepared, the thought of getting caught still nagged at the back of my mind.  I needed to get in and get out.  Right then a car came zooming up around the corner.  Quick as a flash, I leapt behind a bush, ducking out of site from the gleam of the car’s high beams.  “Idiot!” I whispered loudly under my breath. “If you had just kept walking like you were supposed to be there, no one would have noticed you!  But no, you had to dress in all black from head to toe and then leap behind a bush like a criminal… because that’s not suspicious looking at all.”  I got up, brushed the leaves out of my hair, and kept walking towards my target, an old lamp post in the middle of downtown.  Once there, I paused looking around the deserted streets. No one is sight, good.  Bending over my bag, I reached in and grabbed the long roll of fabric I had spent the last three weeks making just for this moment.  Unrolling it I held it up the post and began to stich it on.  The needle slid into the fabric, knotted against the back and then synched the two sides together as I pulled it taught.  A lump fell into the pit of my stomach.  As I continued stitching, my hands began to tremble and I repeatedly kept dropping the needle and having to spend precious moments finding it again.  How long had I been standing here in the open?  The seconds were pounding away in my brain.  Another car zoomed round the corner and before I could stop myself I had dived into yet another bush.  Cursing myself for my ongoing stupidity I crept back to my project and began to ferociously attack my piece, sewing up the sides as fast as I could get my fingers to fly.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity of standing there exposed, I slid the final knot into place, cut the line, stuffed my things back into my bag and got the hell out of dodge.  As I slid back into the safety of my vehicle, my body began to shake uncontrollably, my hands fumbling to much to even secure my seat buckle.   Back at home I sat motionless, curled up into the fetal position on the corner of my couch, as if half expecting the police to burst through the door at any moment and carry me away.  I waited.  Nothing.  My eyes closed, my body exhausted by the emotional and mental strain of the night sagged and slowly I drifted to sleep…

Ok, so maybe I’m not cut out to be Sam Spade or the criminal type.  I mean come on, if I can’t even sew some soft fuzzy yarn on a pole without feeling like I’m suddenly on the FBI’s most wanted list… maybe that isn’t what I should be doing.

The thing is I LOVE guerilla art.  I love street art.  I love the passion behind it and the way that it brings a message directly to your audience without them ever having to pay $5 to step inside a museum.  Instead of them going to the art, you are simply just bringing the art to them instead.  Have I mentioned how much I love this concept?

So what’s a chicken, terrified-of-breaking-the-law-girl to do!?  Turns out a lot!

"The Gateway"

"A Line I Made By Walking"

In my adventures to find my street art niche, I tried all sorts of things.  Some didn’t turn out so well… hence the aforementioned story, but some of them really hit home with me, the two most prominent being Land Art and Guerrilla Gardening.

After my total failure as a knit bomber, I had decided to try something totally different.  Instead, of exploring the urban areas around me like I had been, I began to really dive into the natural elements surrounding me for a change.  Inspired by people like Andy Goldsworthy, Richard Long and Patrick Dougherty, I began creating work from nature.  I would often spend hours wandering around in the wilderness just getting to know the land, waiting for it to say something so that I could respond in the only way I knew how, through my art.  The best part was, this work wasn’t scary at all, it was almost sacred in a way.  I had found my niche.  To See more of my adventures in Land Art and read more about the projects pictured above, click HERE, HERE and HERE

After months of working with sticks and leaves and dirt and grass and trees and flowers and water and mud and whatever else I could come up with I began to really ache for those urban spaces again.  Then one day it dawned on me.  Why not simply mesh the two together?  Fueled with my newfound passion for land art, I began to brainstorm ideas for how I could combine the two disciplines.  After some time, I decided on a project that involved something known as guerrilla gardening.

At first, I was worried that this would be another horrific repeat of my knit bombing experience.  Nervously, I gathered up my tools and supplies that first day and headed downtown, determined to face my fears.  The difference was literally night and day… for one it actually was daytime.  I also didn’t try to dress up like some sort of crazed ninja assassin this time either.  Instead I was simply in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, slowly meandering around downtown pausing whenever I came to a spot I wanted to work.  I’m not going to lie, the first couple spots I worked I was pretty nervous, but nobody seemed to notice me.  Eventually it became clear that nobody really cared what I was up to as long as I wasn’t going to be smashing windows or vandalizing their property.  As I continued working, my confidence grew and I became more and more bold with my work.  In the end, I created and documented 21 separate guerrilla gardening installations downtown. If you want to see what my full Guerrilla Gardening piece turned out like, or want to read the artist statement behind what I was doing, check out THIS LINK HERE.

The moral of the story is, figure out what works for you.  You have to decide if your fear is coming from a place of discomfort with the act you are about to perform, or if it is coming from a place of nervousness about putting yourself out there as an artist.  If you are uncomfortable about the act itself, don’t do it.  You don’t have to be like everyone else.  Because you don’t like something, or are uncomfortable with it, doesn’t make you any more or less of an artist than another person, it simply makes you unique.  When you listen to your heart and go where it leads you, you will find yourself making the work only you could have made in a way only you could have made it.  Art isn’t about being the coolest, or the most trendy, or the most daring person.  It’s about having something to say and find your perfect medium in which to say it, your way.

So experiment this week, discover who you are, what you have to say and how you can say it. Don’t let your fear of exposure as an artist keep you from having your voice heard!

Me hanging out inside one of my favorite land art projects "Gateway"

Braving The Abyss

Before the world was shaped there was the abyss; a primal chaos of thoughts, actions and ideas that had yet to be formed into the existence we see around us today. This abyss wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t organized and it was far from perfect, yet from that mess, from that chaos emerged one of the most magnificent and complex creations to ever come into being.

I’ll let you in on a little secret, being creative is hard.  As creative people, we rarely have roadmaps to help us on our journeys; there are no guidebooks, no road signs to let us know that we are headed in the right direction.  Instead, we are simply left to wander around in the darkness alone, our fingers crossed, hoping that our dreams and passions are leading us where we want to go and not just simply around in circles.

Along this journey, every now and again, we get lost along the way.  We get anxious, we get depressed and we loose hope of ever finding our way again.

Welcome to The Art Abyss.

The Art Abyss was formed as a place for creative people of all backgrounds to come together and share in a journey, our journey.   While some creative journals chronicle the accomplishments of brilliant minds, ours has taken on the challenge of chronicling the people themselves, the “hows” and the “whys” behind their actions over the “whats” that they produce.

The Art Abyss is a conversation, a journey and a place to stand together.

As a creative community we are great at teaching technique, we can teach you how to hold a paintbrush, dance a tango, visually balance space and bake a cake.  What we so often fail at is communicating with each other how to go about actually living a creative life and enduring the hardships when they come.  How do you handle receiving your 10^th rejection letter, or not knowing where your next pay check is going to come from?  How do you keep yourself from getting burnt out, depressed and blocked?  How do you emotionally and physically survive as a creative person?  How do you brave the abyss?

That is the question that is on our hearts.  We are passionate about creative people and we want to create a space where they can not only be empowered and inspired but educated and encouraged on their own journeys by others who have already gone before them.  Each week we will challenge your hearts as a well as your minds as we journey together through the abyss.  It may not always be pretty, it may not be perfect and it will most likely be just a chaotic jumble of passion but we’re learning perfect isn’t always progress and that is ok with us.

So my question to you now is, how will you brave the abyss?