Getting Discouraged - Part 4 of 4 - Nancy Doyle

Following is the final segment of
Nancy Doyle's article,"Getting Discouraged"

The Solution:

Be the best artist you can be. You need to be your own teacher, after a certain point. You need to figure out what your areas of weakness are, and work on those. You need to push yourself to keep learning, always stretching yourself and your awareness of yourself, and as much art as you can learn about - from different places and times. Listen to what good artists have to say about art, through books, films, workshops, gallery talks, etc. - doing this will help greatly - mature artists can give great insights about the creative process - its non-verbal nature can still be articulated by sensitive and knowledgeable artists. This also includes teachers, fellow students and well known visiting artists who come to give critiques and lectures.

Don't have the goal of fame and fortune - have the goal to be the best artist you can be, and make this a lifelong goal. If you concentrate on the work, chances are that the rest will follow - respect, recognition from your peers - and there's always that outside chance of becoming financially successful. Develop yourself as much as you can, by reading good books, experiencing life, seeing good films, dance, theater, and of course all kinds of art, hearing all kinds of great music. This self-enrichment will give you and your work depth and breadth - it will help you find what you have to say. Pay close attention to what moves you. Look for connections and meanings between things - not just visual, but social, psychological, political, and in nature. All these things can also inspire you, which is the best solution to discouragement.

Accept the dry times. Even baseball players have slumps, which shows that even purely physical activity is related to our state of mind. So much more so in the arts. I think that we have come to expect success all the time - masterpieces on a regular basis. This is not only unrealistic, but I think unhealthy. We expect musicians to produce great music on a steady basis, for years and years, but even the best can only do so for a certain number of years, particularly if their recording contracts specify that they are to produce on demand year after year. What happens is burnout and breakup - the Beatles are an example, as are many other rock groups and performers.

I believe that the "dry" times are a necessary part of the creative process. They are difficult to go through, but often they are incubators for growth and new ideas. If we accept them, rather than fight against them, we will be less self-conscious and more able to keep working, which is the key to working through them. They can be times when we learn a new medium or tackle a new subject; or experiment with a totally new approach. In art, sometimes we seem to be in a rut; not able to circumvent an obstacle. It may seem like we are getting nowhere; then suddenly things start to click, to our amazement, and everything flows.

The creative process feels to me like an airplane. It sits on the runway, motionless; then it starts up, and rides on the runway, gradually picking up speed. After a time, it takes off; and once in the air it really flies on its own momentum. It seems sometimes like it will never take off - but once it does, it feels great to be flying. These slow periods are often just transitional periods in the work; these transitional paintings may be mediocre, they may even be downright bad. But we have to accept these images without shame - their creation makes the good work possible, they are the legwork necessary for the real prize.

Antidote: Inspiration. When you are discouraged, seek for inspiration, wherever you can find it. It may be by looking at the work of artists you love, online or in the library, or in a museum or gallery, or at artists' work you've never seen before. It may be by walking outside, or by visiting a good friend or pet, or supportive family member. It may be by reading poetry, or an artist's biography or written words. We can get a lot from reading about the lives of artists - their struggles, their creative visions, their ideas and excitement. Matisse wrote some inspirational things in essay form; one is called On Painting. Kandinsky wrote Concerning the Spiritual in Art. Robert Henri wrote a book about art, The Art Spirit; Van Gogh's Letters to Theo (his brother), are great to read. Cezanne's letters have also been published. There are many other biographies, such as one of Georgia O'Keeffe. Whatever works to get you excited about art - use it.

The bottom line. I don't believe in the idea of talent - that we have it or we don't. Art is not measured only for its perfect design or flawless technique - the main objective in art is expression. If an artist has great skills, and has little to say, his art is not as valuable as someone with little facility and a great vision. Of course, the ideal might be to have both - but of the two, expression is the more essential ingredient. Expression is what is remembered centuries after the fact, whether it is Michelangelo or Van Gogh. So - this means that we are to be evaluated not by our aesthetic perfection, or our talent - but by what we have to express, and how well we express it. So, if we are criticized for weak design, or poor drawing, this is not necessarily a sign that we are not good artists. We should strive to be the best artists we can, in terms of formal elements, drawing, etc. - but the ultimate goal is our expression. We should not be as concerned with whether or not a work of art is "good," as whether or not it expresses something substantive and meaningful, for us and for others.

I once saw a TV talk show interview with a handful of songwriters. The host asked one writer if he worried about writing a good song; the writer answered, "No - I worry that I will not be able to express what I'm trying to say." I think this should be our goal - to be thinking more about what we are trying to say, rather than producing a "good" work. If we have done our homework, have worked and studied and stretched ourselves, the work will improve, and hopefully eventually will be good. But trying only to produce "good" work is an empty goal by itself, without expressing anything.

When students are just learning, they usually don't know what their "vision" is. This comes only with working - one thing magically leads to another, and soon it is a self-fulfilling process. By working, we not only find what we want to focus on, we also find out what doesn't interest us, and sooner or later we find our own way.

All these things - rejection, criticism, discouragement - can at the very least slow us down. It's normal for it to affect us - but try not to let it slow you down for long, and definitely do not let it stop you - if you really want and need to make art. If you believe in what you are doing - GO GO GO! These humbling experiences can be difficult to go through, but they make the high points feel even higher. The high points - praise, acceptance, a good review or critique, a sale - are good mainly because they give us a green light - to continue to make our work; to encourage us to keep going through the tough times. The good feedback we get makes it all worthwhile. The trick is to find your niche - whether it is a local art center, a gallery in a large city, the Internet, or your own backyard.

Often if we are feeling discouraged, it is a good sign - it means that we care about the quality of our work. If it comes too easily, we probably aren't doing it right. I once heard that an amateur artist always succeeds, and a professional artist never does. If we develop a formula and stick with it, we are not really making art, we are just making pictures. A professional artist will continue to search for new and better ways to express him or herself, and never feel that they have arrived. An art professor once asked me how my painting was coming, on a day that I was feeling discouraged about my work. I answered, "I have a long way to go." He smiled, and said, "Good!" And of course, if it were always predictable and easy, we would lose interest quickly. The challenge and the unknown are two things that make art exciting, that there are so many variables and possibilities, that we could never plumb its depths. It is like a challenging intellectual game; but it is even more - it is also an expression of the spirit and heart - a very valuable commodity.

To read this article in its entirety:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/discouraged.html

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To learn more about Nancy Doyle and to view her art:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/index.html

Getting Discouraged (Part 3 of 4) - Nancy Doyle

Following is the 3rd segment of
Nancy Doyle's article,"Getting Discouraged"

Being Discouraged about Our Work:

If we are feeling discouraged about one particular work, or all of our work, that it is not good, or not good enough, etc., there are things that we can do. When struggling with one particular work, when nothing seems to work in it, we can try the actions listed above: turning the work upside down, covering various parts to find trouble spots, coming back in a few days to get a fresh look. Another way is to plow right in, almost like wrestling an alligator. Especially when we are in the first years of painting, this can be an invaluable learning experience; and when it succeeds, the feeling of accomplishment is great. When working with oil paint, especially, there will be times where all you end up with is mud - all the wet colors have mingled together - even mangled - and it seems hopeless. You can scrape the excess paint off with a painting knife and start over, or you can take charge and dive right in, using determination as a weapon. Desperation doesn't usually correct the painting - try to remain calm, and stay focused on what you want to do with the image.

Art is related closely to our mental state; I try to paint only when fresh and well rested; if we are tired or agitated, the image will often mirror this. First - sit down about 10 feet away from the work, and take your time to study it. Compare it to the original idea you initially had; what was it that you wanted to do? Then methodically try to decide what steps you need to take to have the painting in front of you look like your original idea. You may have wanted to show a misty, romantic landscape, or study the geometric structures in a still life. This initial impulse will give you the information you need to make your decisions about how to proceed. Once you have a clear idea of what you want to do, plow right in and do it, scraping off paint if necessary. The very experience of plowing into the image is an empowering one - take the bull by the horns, so to speak.

The main thing about being discouraged is that you keep working through it. Painting is one of those things that lose momentum unless they are kept up, like practicing a musical instrument. I have found that if I stop for more than a few months, I lose ground; when I go back, I don't start at my stopping point - I have gone backward, and it takes extra time to catch up again.

Don't expect masterpieces too soon or too often. Like any activity, it will take time to learn - sometimes a lifetime. If we play golf, how long will it take to be as good as Tiger Woods? The main thing is that we enjoy the activity - it is still enjoyable for us, even if we are not champions. Working to produce masterpieces can be self-defeating; like in Zen philosophy, we have a much greater chance of succeeding if we are not thinking about succeeding. We can trick our minds into thinking that we are going to paint with conviction and energy, for the sheer experience of it, that we don't care if it is "good." That's always when I've done my best work. One trick I use is to listen to carefully selected music; when starting a painting and a bright white canvas is staring back at me, I put on music that is unpretentious, such as folk music. This makes me less self-conscious; I forget about myself and start working. Later, in the midst of the work, I can listen to more spirited music, to get me to be bold and honest in the painting - to remind me of the emotions and ideas I am trying to express in the work. Artists have spoken about the need to forget themselves while working; I find that music helps me do this. I listen to the music which makes my spirit soar (celtic music), without distracting me too much. For instance, I love the Rolling Stones - but if I play them while painting, I end up dancing more than painting, so I try to avoid stuff that is too intrusive.

To read this article in its entirety
without having to wait for the final segment:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/discouraged.html
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To learn more about Nancy Doyle and to view her art:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/

Getting Discouraged - Part 2 of 4 - Nancy Doyle

Following is the 2nd segment of Nancy Doyle's article,
"Getting Discouraged"

Criticism:

Criticism can come from many quarters; from your roommate, your best friend, your worst enemy, a teacher, an art critic, and more. It can also be hurtful and discouraging, even devastating.

A casual remark can sometimes be disconcerting; "What is that supposed to be?", "That doesn't look anything like me", "It's so green", "This is finished?", "You're not supposed to use blue and red together in a painting". These are remarks made by ordinary people. The words of a teacher or art critic can be even more pointed and powerful. Teachers usually mean well, but sometimes they can say things that are off the beam. I had a teacher who told me that I should not put religious and non-religious items in the same drawing; (I had drawn a religious statue next to a plant.) These suggestions leave you scratching your head; when I was older I looked back and realized that this teacher was completely wrong. Try to put things said in perspective. Not everyone, teachers included, knows what they are talking about. Because they have a position of authority doesn't mean that they are always right. In art school, a painting instructor said that my idea of putting a vase of flowers in a portrait was "too sentimental"; I listened to him, and added an industrial sink instead. I've regretted it since; flowers were part of the expression I was aiming for - an Impressionistic feel for the image, and a direction I wanted my painting to go in. Because of his advice, this direction had to wait another 4 years to begin. Don't let someone waste your valuable time. In particular, don't let someone keep you from doing what you really want to do.

Often, we remember vividly these disparaging remarks - we can quote them, word for word. In art schools, professors sometimes seem to enjoy these putdowns, or at least feel justified in their criticism. I've seen students reduced to tears after a harsh "crit." I have always failed to see what the value of this kind of criticism is; perhaps to discourage a mediocre student from majoring in art. I just feel that none of us is that all-knowing, or has that much authority, that we can afford to break a spirit. Cezanne and Van Gogh, two of the best painters ever, both lacked 'facility' , meaning that nothing came easily for either of them. Their early drawings are very "bad." But this lack of facility proved to be a bonus for them, in that they were forced to produce original work - honest work, not the "polished" stuff of the prize students of their day (whose names are long forgotten).


I once had a student in my drawing class who seemed to have absolutely no perceptual ability. If I set up a still life with a bottle on the left, she would draw it on the right; I began to wonder if she was dyslexic. After a few weeks of class, she came to me in tears, saying that it was hopeless, that she could never learn to draw - she wanted to drop out of the class. She was a dance major; I felt that sooner or later she would be able to bring her dance experience to the drawing class - as the arts are all cousins. I encouraged her to try it for just a few more weeks. The following week, I showed slides of drawings in class. One slide in particular was a da Vinci ink drawing of a copse of trees, a very simple sketch. For some reason, she was inspired by this drawing; she began drawing landscapes outside, and they were wonderful. She was all fired up after that, and her work got better and better. Eventually, she became a drawing teacher herself. This experience proved to me that my feeling about criticism was true - that we never know who will succeed, or when.

Teachers can be very intimidating. An art critic in a newspaper or magazine can also be harmful. Their erudite and critical prose is perhaps designed to impress or intimidate; they perhaps think that their ability to criticize reflects their discriminating taste and sophistication. Far from it. A critic's true job is not to "criticize," but rather to elucidate and illuminate the work. The fact is that very few critics are remembered, whereas many of the artists they have belittled will be remembered forever. The magazine Art News has some really good critics, whose reviews are printed in the back of the magazine. Here it is easy to see the difference between a good and bad critic. One of these well written reviews (not necessarily positive) can also be a work of art - thoughtfully written, insightful, with pertinent background information on the artist and his or her historical context, etc. These enlightened reviewers illuminate the work for us, they help us to understand the artist's intentions and context. To have a negative review in a national publication can be decimating for an artist; I have met artists who experienced this, one of whom almost stopped painting because of it. These reviewers have a lot of power, in that sense; and also because their words in a major publication can "make or break" an artist, in the eyes of galleries, curators, etc. This is not what art is about.

Dealing with criticism:

Consider the source. Does the person have art training or experience? Is the person able to be objective? Does the person have a similar sensibility to me? How intelligent is this person? This goes both ways - if the person is intelligent, has training, has no axe to grind - perhaps some of what they are saying is true. We need to accept criticism without necessarily buying into it, or at least suspend our judgment. We need to consider it, over time, to see if there is anything we can gain from it. We can't take it personally; we can't feel that it renders us worthless as artists or people. If we look at it without our egos, we may glean great insight and help to make our work better. If we look at it in terms of helping us to be better artists - all of us can always be better - we just might find a breakthrough in our work, we might really grow from it. I once had a professor, whom I respected greatly, give frank and specific information about weak points in my work. I could see that he was right, and I was able to absorb and benefit from this information. I felt grateful to him for helping me improve my work. He gave the advice straight-on, without a personal attack at me.

On the other hand, when someone makes a critique into a verbal or personal assault, there is no value to this, to the critic or to the artist. When I read a scathing review, in which nothing positive is mentioned, I smell a rat. Does this person have an axe to grind? Particularly when the artist being roasted is a serious artist, with training, experience and something to say - which happens. Jasper Johns, the well known American artist, was once so roasted by a young, unknown reviewer; where is the value in this? It reveals more about the reviewer than about the artist. There is very little serious art about which nothing good can be said.

Protect yourself. I have found that if I show someone a painting before it is finished, a remark they make might affect the outcome of the work, in a less than positive way. Not just because they might say something critical - even a casual remark may make me think differently about what I am trying to do. Matisse referred to the initial impulse of an artwork as the conception, and recommended that artists remain true to this initial conception. Sometimes a casual remark can alter the execution of the work, particularly because an unfinished painting can look very different from what the final product will be. And in the case of someone being critical of the unfinished work, this may also cause self-doubt or confusion, which may interfere with the artist's state of mind or self-confidence. So I generally recommend not showing half-finished work to anyone, unless they are a trusted friend, or a fellow artist who is familiar with your work.

I also recommend not talking about ideas you have before you carry them out. For some reason, I have found that doing this dissipates the impulse somewhat; like the saying of it eliminates the need to actually make it. Also, in telling someone you take a chance that they may make a disconcerting remark, perhaps discouraging or critical. I've found that we need to nurture ourselves and our work. When the work is finished, then others can see and comment; no matter what they say, the work has been completed and realized, so nothing can alter it.

Be your own worst critic. We need to learn to separate our artwork from our egos. The quality of our work doesn't reflect our value as people. We are all growing and learning; we all need to improve our work. Don't be afraid to look at your work squarely, to find weak spots and negative tendencies. The more we can do this, the better our work will become. Don't try to compete with others - compete with yourself, and with the great artists (aim high). If you are constantly striving to improve your work, by working, by looking at good art, reading about art, talking with others about it, listening to what good artists have to say about the creative process - your work will reflect this personal artistic growth and depth.

This can be done with individual works, and with your work in general. Often when we have been working intensely on an image, we are too close to it and can't see it anymore. If this happens, stay away for a few days; often when you come back, you can spot the problem areas right away. Another trick painters use is to turn the work upside down; sometimes unbalanced design or proportions stick out like a sore thumb. Another way to find the problem area is to cover different areas with your hand or piece of paper; when you find that the rest of the painting works with one area covered, this is your problem area. Then you can try to find alternatives for this area - correct the drawing, change the color or value, eliminate the area, etc.

For general criticism of your work, seek out a respected fellow artist or teacher for honest, constructive advice. As always, you can keep the advice, or discard it; art-making is a process of self-discovery. If it is relevant to you, keep it; if not, discard it. One sign for me is whether the criticism pushes me forward or holds me back; if it demoralizes me enough for me to stop working, I usually discard it. Whatever makes me want to work harder, or inspires me, I hold onto. So, anything that is good for the work stays; anything that is bad for it has to go. We learn about good art by looking at art of the present and past; we look at Cezanne and others, whose work we know to be excellent. The more we learn about good art, the more we can be objective about our own work.

Student versus artist: When we are first learning about art, say the first 5-10 years of study, our goal is to learn as much as possible, to become a good artist (produce good work), and to experiment with new ideas and methods. For this reason, we have teachers and fellow students criticize our work in class, and we study design elements and principles, color theory, drawing, etc. At this stage we are making mistakes, and listening to advice and criticism, with an open mind. After this period, a young artist is still somewhat open, but is now more focused on his or her own vision (what is meaningful to them). We start zeroing in on our vision, we are less self-conscious about our work. We still experiment; but our acceptance of criticism is more selective than before. Finally, when we start to mature as artists, we keep only criticism and advice that is pertinent to our vision. In other words, our goal is not just to produce good work - it is to produce our own work - to produce a body of work that reflects our personal vision. So, now it is not just about correct technique, or good design, or following rules; it is not about formal perfection, or technical perfection. As Bob Dylan said, "I am not a musician - Segovia is a musician - I am an artist." He is not concerned with being the best guitar player, or the best singer; he is concerned with creating the music that will best carry his artistic vision, his view of the universe translated into art.

So when we think of criticism in this sense, it may or may not pertain to our work; if someone doesn't understand what we are trying to express, as mature artists, this means that the criticism is not relevant to us. So we need to discard it.

To read this article in its entirety without having to waitfor me to post the remaining 2 segments:
http://www.ndoylefineart.com/discouraged.html

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To learn more about Nancy Doyle and to view her art:
http://www.ndoylefineart.com/

Getting Discouraged (Part 1 of 4) - Nancy Doyle

Nancy Doyle has written an extensive essay about a topic
with which all artists must cope at one time or another in
their careers. It will be posted over the next few days in four
consecutive parts: Today's segment is on "Rejection". The
remaining segments include: "Criticism" (including Dealing
with Criticism), "Being Discouraged about our Work",
and "The Solution". - Gwen Magee

Most, if not all, artists have times when they are discouraged about their work, or about how their work is received. Certainly if we look at artists from the past, many of the best ones struggled financially, emotionally, professionally, or all of the above. As sports players have slumps, artists go through periods that are fallow or difficult, when nothing seems to work, or we can't find the key, or we feel like we are laboring in obscurity. Society doesn't always embrace artists, who are left basically to fend for themselves, or art is perceived as a commodity, and there is talk about the "art market," the astronomically high prices for art of the past, etc., leaving the impression that the value of a work of art lies only in its investment potential.

It is a cliche that artists starve in garrets, and when they die their work may be sold for many millions of dollars. Van Gogh is a prime example of this; everyone knows how he labored in obscurity and finally in despair. Perhaps this is part of the charm of his mystique, and why people still line up to see his work; his vulnerability, like that of Marilyn Monroe, tugs at our heartstrings. Vincent may have committed suicide because his brother Theo, now married with a child, would no longer be able to support him. After Vincent's death, there was more interest in his work, and in fact the Paris art world would soon embrace work like Vincent's, for example that of Gauguin, Seurat, and Cezanne. So the thing is - maybe if Vincent had just hung in there a little longer, he may have finally found the success he craved, or at least the respect of his peers.
There are many artists who did not receive recognition or success in their lifetimes, or if they did finally arrive, it was shortly before their death, like Cezanne. Cezanne was able to rely on the estate left by his father, so he was relieved of the need to support himself with his work. Luckily for us, he didn't have to work in a bank; he was able to fully commit himself to his work, which was not comprehended by the average person.

There is the idea that art is not a "legitimate" type of work; that it is a frivolity best saved for spare time, etc., or a luxury for the wealthy. But for artists who have a vision that they are compelled to share, art isn't frivolity or luxury - it's a necessity. And for society, art is also a necessity, although this may not be realized by many. We are the spirit-keepers, the mirrors, the candles. And we need to become our own best friends - to believe in ourselves and what we do. And stick together, rather than compete with one another.

So, it can be tough to be an artist; but the job satisfaction is very high. Art uses the whole person - the soul, heart, body and mind. It is a healing activity that brings the joy of producing something meaningful, for the world. It is a magical process, even though it is hard to learn and sometimes difficult to do. I think the origins of art are very old; they say now that art-making may have started hundreds of thousands of years ago, even before homo sapiens evolved. There are gorillas and one elephant who paint, who supposedly love the activity. Maybe some think that this means the activity of art takes no intellectual ability; I take it to mean that art-making is a pre-literate activity coming from our deepest past, that all sentient creatures are capable of accessing their inner selves to produce art. The two gorillas who paint can also speak sign language, and both have described their paintings to humans. Their images are based on specific subjects, and painted with appropriate colors and style to depict that subject. The paintings resemble Abstract Expressionism, with bold colors and gestural strokes.

We paint and sculpt our dreams, our nightmares, our loved ones, our future, our past, beauty, heroism, sorrow, and much more - anything that can be imagined and imaged. As a Beethoven symphony is without words and still expresses a great deal, even to those who know little about music, so art is part of us all. Those of us who make art have a special honor, and an obligation to ourselves and others, to be true to ourselves and to share our vision.

This isn't always easy, and sometimes we get discouraged. This can be due to:

Rejection:

Artists can get rejected when they enter shows, submit their work to galleries or other venues, or unsuccessfully put their work up for sale.

When we are rejected from a juried exhibition, as we all will be, it is a real disappointment. We have created our best work, we have framed it, and we have paid a fee to enter the show. I can only speak about art in the United States, but here there are now a great number of good artists, many of whom have had formal training. The number of eligible artists applying for almost any show is usually very high; transversely, the number of exhibition opportunities is relatively small. A local art center, organization or gallery will hold a juried show, having the capacity to hang maybe 40 or 50 pieces, or less. Two thousand artists will apply; obviously most will be rejected, not necessarily because their work is under par. A juror has to make tough decisions; he or she brings their training, experience and taste to the jurying process. They may have a preference for Minimalist art, or figurative work; they may have little or no art training. (Sometimes a local person is hired, perhaps a knowledgeable architect or craftsperson, who chooses work based on their experience, or lack of it.) Sometimes a juror will select work that collectively combines to create a consistent theme, aesthetically, for instance non-objective work. (Juried shows, where each piece is created by a different artist, can often be a hodge-podge when hung; this is a "necessary evil," but a juror may prefer to hang pieces similar in style, framing, or even size or medium used. One way to deal with this situation is to enter shows selectively, choosing those where your work has a greater chance to be accepted. This can be done by joining art organizations which reflect your aesthetic viewpoint; some art centers may specialize in representational art, other organizations may focus in new, experimental work. By visiting these centers and shows, you may be able to see a certain style preference, or level of sophistication. The identity of the juror also may indicate what he or she will choose; a juror's preferences may be predicted beforehand. Sometimes the entry form for the exhibition will include a juror's background; if the juror is from New York City, this may indicate a preference for new art, whereas a local art teacher may indicate a more traditional approach.

If you are rejected by the juror(s), and visit the show after it has been hung, the work there may explain to you why you were rejected. If you are a painter of flowers, and the juror has selected Minimalist paintings and sculptures, you will have your answer (or vice versa). I have gone to a show a couple of times, and found work that I considered more traditional than mine, or less competent. For the latter, we just need to be philosophical - these things just happen in life sometimes. Sometimes, there is no explanation as to why our work is not chosen; it could be anything - the juror had a headache that day, she doesn't like the color red, he doesn't care for abstraction, etc. Just as we can be rejected in life, our work can be rejected. Try not to take it personally, or be offended; try to be philosophical about it, and try to focus on the shows you have a better chance of getting into. This may take some work and some time, but hang in there - there is a place for almost any type of art, you just need to find it. You might have better luck joining the local art center; they often have both juried and non-juried shows; the non-juried, usually called members' shows, hang every work submitted. (Usually a member can submit up to two pieces.)

Many organizations also hold annual shows, often for fundraising purposes, such as colleges, nonprofit groups, and charity groups. Look for advertisements of these in your local newspapers, or check the bulletin boards at art centers and organizations for "call for entries." If you hear about a show, call the organization and ask how to submit your work for review for inclusion. When a show's purpose is fundraising, they may not care as much about the quality of your work, as about how well it will sell. (They are all about raising money; a local fundraising group stated upfront that they didn't care how good your work was, they only cared whether or not it would sell.) Usually, a group will want to see slides of your work, or the originals, to see if your work will help them raise money, or appeal to their potential buyers. In this case, show them your most "saleable" work; from my experience, this could be florals, beaches, landscapes, or other appealing subject matter. But you can also bring a couple of things that are your specialty, perhaps unique to your work. Try to show them your best work.

There are also local art festivals, especially outdoors in the spring and summer; again, keep an eye on your local paper to catch these. These are usually not juried. Usually you can rent a space or stall for one or two days, where you sit all day and try to sell your work. These are fun, but can also be disappointing if your work is not all that commercial. Usually, smaller paintings and prints sell better here. I can remember sitting at a festival all day, and no one even stopped to look at my work; at the end of the day, the guy next to me who painted images on velvet had a big wad of cash to show for his day. (These experiences humble us; that may not always be a bad thing. It makes us really appreciate the highs when they come.)

If your work has been accepted and hung, is for sale and not bought, this can also bring a feeling of letdown. Again, try to aim for the best venue for your work - where it fits in best. And don't let it get you down for long!

To be shown in a gallery, we also usually have to show our slides, or our original work. You can also shop for a gallery; visit all the galleries in your area, hopefully more than once, to get an idea of where your work would fit in best. Then call the gallery you choose, to ask them what their slide review process is; if possible, make an appointment to show them your work. Some galleries request that you mail slides to them for review; this may take awhile to hear back from them. Make sure your slides are professionally done, either with a good camera yourself, or have a professional photographer take the slides. Usually a slow-speed film is good for this purpose; I think 64 ASA is the slowest color film now. It comes in indoor and outdoor; make sure you choose the right film for taking indoor or outdoor pictures. Number and label the slides, with your name, title of work, medium and date; try to include work done mainly in the last three years. Make a list of your slides, corresponding to your labeled slides, with the same information. If you are showing sculptures, you can include more than one view of each piece. A resume may also be requested; make sure you have a resume typed in a professional manner. A resume can include your education and specialized art training, your teaching or professional experience, relevant groups of which you are a member, and a list of exhibitions in chronological order, listing name of the organization or exhibition, location and year held.

Galleries tend to accept your work on commission, meaning they will hang it, and if it sells, you will receive payment. Galleries take a sales commission, usually between 35% and 90% - the average is about 50%, so set your prices accordingly. Some galleries have rotating exhibitions, usually on an invitational basis. A gallery can decide not to show your work; again, this may be due to a stylistic preference on the part of the gallery. Many galleries also are more concerned with profit margin than with quality; they may reject your work because they feel their clientele would not be interested in buying it. Don't assume that the gallery personnel are knowledgeable in art; they may be, they may not be. Don't take it personally if they decline to show your work; like a blind date, it may just not be meant to be! Try another gallery - don't give up! (Don't EVER give up, if you really believe in what you are doing.)

In summary, the best of us have been rejected: Cezanne, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, de Kooning, and on and on! Don't let it get to you - it's OK if it slows you down for a little while, but don't let it stop you, if you really, really want to be making art. See The Solution, below. [NOTE: "The Solution" will be available in Part IV]

To read this article in its entirety without having to wait
for me to post the other 3 segments:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/discouraged.html

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To learn more about Nancy Doyle and to view her art:

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/

Creativity & Spirituality

This is a revision of a commentary piece originally printed in the January 2006 issue of Artist Quarterly, the Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, & Mississippi Regional e-mail newsletter of SAQA
(Studio Art Quilt Associates)

The journey is begun…

How many times have you been to an exhibit and simply moved from one piece to another without feeling anything. When viewing a work of “art” that does not move you in any way, is it because it seems to have been created passionless, without feeling or meaning, without “soul”??? Is the presence or absence of a sense of spirituality important? Is or is not the creation of a dialogue or the eliciting of emotion or some type of reaction or response from the viewer an essential ingredient in whether or not the work is truly art? In other words what, if any, is the relationship between creativity and spirituality?

What exactly is creativity? There must be at least 6 zillion definitions – just do a search on Google and see how many “hits” are returned (91,000,000 the last time I checked). I personally find it most useful to primarily think of creativity as being the process through which an inner vision becomes translated into an external reality (e.g., producing a work of art, rearranging furniture, tinkering with a recipe – these are all activities through which creativity finds expression).

Funded by a $40,000 grant, nine women (including myself) began in September, 2005 a two-year exploration which took us deep into examination of the interrelationship(s) between creativity and spirituality; personally as well as generally. Half of this group was cleric, the rest of us were lay and together we represented seven faith traditions: Judaism, Islam, Unitarian-Universalism, Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian and Episcopal.

For me personally, this exploration was truly “a journey” since at that time I was not yet completely comfortable with thinking of myself as a spiritual being. I had, in fact, always considered myself to be one of the least spiritual people around since dogma, rituals, highly structured and formalized religious services had long been anathema to me. So I was always somewhat “taken up short” whenever someone commented about the spirituality of my art. And it was that “spirituality” which prompted the invitation to be extended for me to join this dynamic group of women to develop and submit the proposal for funding.

Comments about the spirituality of my art occurs frequently enough to make me have to stop and think – to reevaluate what is transpiring when I work; to ponder what drives me to create. I.e., to think deeply about what is the wellspring through which my creativity is funneled and expressed. It all related to what this group wanted to explore – the intersections, the connections, and the correlations between spirituality and creativity. Because clearly there was a lot more involved than just having the desire to create.

One task I set for myself over that two year period was to try and define from my own perspective just what the concept of “spirituality” means. I now clearly understand that for me, “spirituality” is a much broader concept than mere religious belief or commitment although it certainly can be the vehicle for the expression of one’s faith. I know that for me it has much to do with the awareness of and with having a sense of connection – with trying to figure out just how I connect with the universe. For me personally, spirituality is bound inexorably not only to my past as an individual, but also to my cultural heritage. It also is tied to the legacy, tangible as well as intangible, that I will one day leave behind.

Although there are color studies and abstracts among my work to which viewers are inexorably drawn, I believe it is in the narrative work that my spirituality becomes most evident. In musing about this, I have come to the conclusion this may be because when working within this particular genre, I am fully aware of my desire and of my need to communicate something that is coming deep from the depths of my being; from the inner core of my self. This is when I usually am trying to speak for those who have no voices or whose voices have been stilled because of death, fear, or terror; whose voices have been stilled because of their position of caste, class, and/or economic status; whose voices have been stilled because of the role played by race and racism in our society.

It is through this work that I am able to feel a direct connection with the universe, with something greater than myself, and find the ability to communicate and express these experiences, emotions, feelings. It is this work to which viewers appear to have the strongest response, most often positive; sometimes negative – but one way or another, they do respond.

While searching for resources about the creativity/spirituality connection, I visited the QuietSpaces website. On it I came across the following quote: “The important thing is to bring a conscious, ongoing awareness into your chosen activity, acknowledging that it forms a part of your spiritual path. This intent, this consciousness, helps to stabilize and deepen your experience.” I think that more than just a kernel of truth has been captured in these few words.

With my colleagues I embarked upon a search for understanding and to the best of my ability brought to it an open mind. Throughout the two-year period I found myself immersed in and confronted with (sometimes confounded by) many questions and issues that were not readily apparent to me when we began. The journey was difficult at times and joyous at others. It is impacting my work in both overt as well as in subtle dimensions. The journey has still only just begun.

Some questions to ponder:

1. What is your personal definition of spirituality? Of creativity?
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2. What drives you to be creative? Is creativity equally pervasive throughout all facets of your life? Why or why not? How and to what extent do you think this has an impact on your art? Positive or negative?
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3. Does spirituality play a role in your creative life? If so, how – i.e., are you consciously aware of its presence during the conceptualization and/or execution of your art? If so, do you find this to be meaningful, and in what way(s)? If not, to what extent do you think this is significant or irrelevant?
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4. There are those who consider the process and/or expression of their creativity to be a spiritual practice in and of itself as a form of meditation and/or prayer. Do you?
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5. To what degree is your spirituality expressed through your art – in most or all of your work; in only some? If the latter, are there any aspects of your art in which you feel your spirituality is more readily apparent than in others (e.g., the subject matter, the genre, the medium, etc.)? Is it subtle or more openly expressed? Does it matter?
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6. Has there ever been a time in which you felt that you “lost or yielded control” of the work – that you were no longer the sole guide of the process or determinant of the product? If so, do you think that the final outcome was a more powerful or stronger work than it would have been if you had persisted in developing your original concept?
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7. How do your creativity and/or spirituality affect the way you view and/or interact with the world; how does it influence those areas of your life that exist beyond the boundaries of your studio?

Working in a Series - How did THAT Happen? - Susan Leslie Lumsden

Yikes Stripes!

If you had asked me six years ago if I’d be working in a series, I would have told you firmly NO WAY! I get bored doing the same old thing over and over. That’s why I don’t do traditional. That’s why I’d never do production work. BORING! So how did I get to the point where I’m using the very traditional bull’s eye as the basis for most of my quilts?

Well first let me tell you about the first time I saw the bull’s eye and what intrigued me about it. I was in the bookstore at the Museum of American Quilters in Paducah, KY. I was flipping through a book of various quilting blocks and one block in particular caught my attention. When I saw how it was done, I felt a thrill that just made me giggle. Two major elements about it got my attention 1) very stingy use of fabrics— you “rob Peter to pay Paul” and 2) no matter how thoroughly you plan there is ALWAYS an element of surprise.

True confession time— I didn’t even buy the book. I got the gist and just went home and played with the concept. My very first project using the concept turned out to be the initial quilt in the Roots of Racism: Ignorance and Fear exhibition—“The Value of Diversity”. That exhibition toured the US for two years and then went on, with close to fifty other quilts, to adorn the walls of the U.S. Ambassador’s residence in Pakistan for three more years. The next two were also created with that exhibition in mind—“Closed Society” & “Whites Only/ No Coloreds”. It was very exciting to attempt to explain a concept primarily with color and pattern.

Since then I have done over 60 quilts using the bull’s eye design as a starting point. Why? First— I just love the thrill I get when the surprise element hits. It makes me giggle and that is what it is ALL about! But the sustaining reason is that by not having to re-invent the wheel each time, I can focus on other elements that might otherwise get less attention. Each time I do a project I have SOME lesson or skill I am trying to expand. I never do a quilt just to be doing the next one.

Last year I did a few quilts that started with a handful of feathers a friend gave me from her chicken yard. Because I began with the bull’s eye design as a known starting point I was able simply to focus on the colors and their relationships. And what amazing colors they were! I had NO idea that chickens could come in so many colors and have such exquisite variations in texture and sheen.

Then I wanted to play with various surface design techniques. I stamped, foiled, silk-screened, beaded, discharged, painted—you name it. Because the individual blocks didn’t always show much of the surface design I had played with, I added those elements to the backs, as well. In fact, the backs became my playground— recess, as it was. The blocks required tight control on the assembly— to make sure those corners matched. The quilting often required tight control as well—but on the backs I can stretch out and play, play, play! Over time, I have become almost as well known for my backs as those silly circles.

Another major point in making a case for working in a series is time. By doing something where certain elements are replicated, the time it takes to create a quilt is dramatically shortened. I set up a dedicated cutting mat to make quartering my blocks very simple and very consistent. I always use a favorite 6” bowl for drawing my circles. I always make my blocks 8” square. When I cut a single 8” block from my fat quarter or half yard piece of fabric—it doesn’t take any longer to cut two pieces than it does one. That means I have a nice stack of already cut blocks and circles to pull from if I’m playing with an idea.

Since I often dye my own fabrics, I can focus on the blend of colors and not even have to think about how they are going to go together. I can just go with my gut instinct and choose for color and pattern. Since I have a general expectation of the final direction, I can be pleasantly surprised by the actual color relationships that happen.

Do I get bored? NEVER! Even If I get so carried away making blocks in a particular color scheme that I wind up with 2 quilts made from half the blocks each— I still quilt them very differently. Often I’ll take on a very feminine persona for one and a very masculine one for the other-—just to see how a different approach can affect things. This happened recently with “Shadowplay/male” and “Shadowplay/female”.

So next time you are thinking about how to add a new technique, a new skill, a new challenge to your game, consider starting by using a block or technique you have already mastered and just add those new elements to your game. You’ll immediately know exactly where you have increased your skills and simplified the expansion process.

I don’t know how long I’ll keep using the bull’s eye technique. I guess until I no longer find myself asking—now how could I do that just with the circles?

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Susan Leslie Lumsden was one of the 2007 Niche Award winners in the

Professional-Fiber category. To learn more about Susan and her work:
http://www.rebelquilter.com

Craft Versus Art - Mary Sullivan Holdgrafer

Mary Sullivan Holdgrafer is a textile artist, teacher, facilitator, curator and scholar. Her work has been exhibited and is held in public and private collections in Canada and the United States. She was recently featured in an article in Alberta Views magazine which described the work of five leading Alberta art quilters.

http://www.exploringcreativity.com

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This article has arisen from the Alberta Craft Council exhibition, Craft vs. Art: The Great Debate. The exhibition consisted of work and writings by Alberta Craft Council members. It was on display throughout August, 2002 in the Alberta Craft Gallery.
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When I was asked to submit work for consideration for the Alberta Craft Council exhibition, Craft vs. Art: The Great Debate, my first thought was, "Why are we having this discussion?" I struggled to write a coherent essay and I made two surprising pieces as a part of my submission. In the end it proved to be a stimulating assignment..
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I chose to focus on the power struggle that exists between art and craft. I discussed the differences between competition and differentiation and called for greater curiosity. Others approached the topic differently, but in the end, there was a high level of consistency among the submissions.
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I think there is an elitist view on the part of both art and craft people that suggests a failure to be curious about differing perspectives. Identifying with a single view is limiting. Most often we hold negative judgements of other points of view when we cling too tightly to our own. When we feel the need to defend our position, we most often diminish others in the process.
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The notion of a continuum more accurately reflects the reality. I do see crafts people who work at preserving a traditional form using only historically appropriate techniques, tools and materials. I also see artists who produce work with little regard for tradition or craftsmanship. There is value in honing ones skill just as there is value in carefree experimentation without regard to quality or longevity.
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Mostly I encounter artisans who invest themselves in developing their skills and pushing beyond the status quo, always asking, "what if?" In this daring realm there is much to be learned. Media and form have little to do with the potential for learning and self-discovery.
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The essence of my work resides in my personal learning. The product is less important than the process. My work is an act of self-definition. I hold an intention to do what Eric Maisel refers to as "deep" work. It is through the daily practice of my work that I achieve the deep learning or understanding I seek.
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I notice that I am quick to judge the work of others when I am not curious about their intention. But when I pause long enough to be curious, I am often moved by what I see. I feel a resonance with people whose work is very different than my own when I am able to see that we are more similar than different.
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I know that by choosing to work with fabrics, that I will not be universally recognized as an "artist". I also know that by pushing the edges of traditional textile work I will not be universally accepted as a quilter. If recognition or acceptance is what I am seeking, then I have set myself up for failure and a pretty unhappy life. But if my goal is to learn about myself through the creative process, I cannot fail. If I assume that others are trying to do the same, then I can be generous and curious about them and their work.
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I want to hold on to the "Big Picture" where I can acknowledge the perspectives of others and be curious about them. I want to hold an intention to learn about myself, to test my own limits.
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If we are able to view craft and art as a part of a continuum, and if we can allow self-placement on the continuum, then we will take ourselves out of the power struggle. Staying curious will automatically create opportunities for learning and for resonance with others. It will not matter if we are artists or craftsmen. After all, our creativity comes from the same source, doesn't it?
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To read Mary Sullivan Holdgrafer's artist statement
and to view some of her art:

http://www.exploringcreativity.com/mary.html

Is it Art? Is it Craft? - Charles Lewton Brain

Charles Lewton-Brain is a master goldsmith. To learn more about him, his art, his books and other writings:
http://www.brainpress.com/LewtonBrain.html

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The Art versus Craft issue is a complex question and one that has bedeviled creators a great deal in the last fifty years or so.
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I once heard a gallery owner say that the difference between an art object and a craft object is $3000. The American Craft Council's director Carmine Branagan says that the discussion is unimportant, that the craft/art debate is one of craftspeople talking to themselves, about issues that do not matter at all to the general public - they do not care about this particular debate. She holds that if we are educating the culture as makers then the real issue is getting the work and what it means out and before the public, especially through galleries, museums and publications, the validators in society.
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I personally see art and craft as a very similar activity, that both involve creating, problem solving, composition and design decisions, pattern recognition, intuition, etc. I consider things a spectrum of kinds of work, no boundaries or strict edges to things, more of a blur. It has to do with intent perhaps, what is the intent of the object. That and the form of the object, the choice to work in a form or within the restrictions of a form. Examples of forms include a ring, a teapot, a wall mounted painting, a chair. By choosing an object type (or aesthetic or media restrictions) one defines the skeleton against which one makes art. Some of these contexts and restrictions are cultural as well as functional, and here is where we may wander into objects that can clearly be called craft ones.
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The Canadian Professional Relations tribunal, after spending months on the question decided that 'artists self-designate', that for legal purposes you are an artist if you say you are or a craftsperson if you say you are. I am both, and some of my objects are both at one time. I see it as a long spectrum where the maker defines what object type it is or what mode (art/craft) one works in. The issue for me comes in hierarchy, in situations where people are told, or taught that one thing is better than another (usually art more 'fine', 'high', 'valued') than craft. And that, I think is where the rub lies, with some people discriminating against practitioners and objects made in a craft context, and as a someone who willingly chooses that context now and then, it feels bad. The issue of Design is a large one, and while I think both art and craft objects are designed, to work in the mode of design is to work in a mode that emphasizes service, function and the user. In the design world though changes have occurred so that a single object in a 'craft' media can be shown in a catalog or magazine as a designed object, and the maker has, more or less, made it in service to their own (artistic) needs rather than to an external problem.
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Art and craft are differentiated by customs and border control laws by practical function. If you can wear it or put peanuts into it is craft. Or if there are more than 49 of them - prints, both photographic and other done in editions magically turn from fine art into product if there are 50 or more of them.
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Once upon a time (pre-NAFTA) craft work going to the US had a 50% duty on it which made it just about impossible to think of selling in the states. Fine art however traveled duty free. You could however, prove you were an artist to the United States government, which I went through in the hope of being able to circumvent the duty if I was recognized as a fine artist. This process was complex and circuitous. And you can only apply once in your life. If they decide you are not an artist you can NEVER apply again. That's it. A one time decision.
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It is administered by the US department of Justice, and one had to submit all the proofs you could find, posters you were called an artist on, published 'artist's statements' that used the work artist, and so on. In fact I have made a point of ensuring that the word 'artist' appears in connection with my name in print since this experience. You then documented a piece of work at all stages, photographs of all the stages in its development and described and listed all the decision points there were. In my case there were some 28 distinct aesthetic decisions made while making the sample piece. You proved that there were numerous aesthetic decision points in the work, (not just technical ones). This, with every other proof you could think of was installed in a large binder. Then you submitted the whole pile to the Department of Justice. Some time later they get back to you.
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They said I was an Artist. Definitely. For sure. But it didn't make any difference, I still had to pay the duty on my work because it was still functional, you could still wear it or use it for things other than just looking at.
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So, for me its a spectrum, and intent, the object, the mode and me determine what it is, how much art content it may have. Most of the time elements of both, sometimes tilted more one way than another.
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The only problem with the debate is unfair hierarchy which seems to exist in the arts field and in the culture and the results of discrimination based on such hierarchy, its effects on fees paid to teachers, salary expectations, grants, university budgets for craft areas and so on. In Australia I read a theory that these issues are all gender based and link with gender politices. I would tend to agree, from what I have seen.

Art v Craft - Bruce DeBoer

Bruce DeBoer is a photographer.
The following article was originally posted to his blog:
Permission to Suck: The Pursuit of Fearless Creativity

http://brucedeboer.typepad.com/

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What’s the difference between art and craft? Oh … about $1000. How about: Craft comes with instructions and art doesn’t? Or how about: Crafts take skill and art doesn’t need any? Nah - too confrontational.
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A good simple definition of art is the manifestation of human emotion through medium. Notice I’m not saying good or great art, just art. Art is a starting point for expression. If you reveal art you are an artist. A child who explores finger paints is an artist – maybe even the purest type.
We all know artists; the most random of thinkers. They are driven to emote. It’s in there and it must come out, no practice required. To practice is to do.
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Craft is guided by an external force. Craft’s starting point is void of internal emotional expression. Practice a craft and your skills grow. They are measurable. Honed over a lifetime your mastery can reach great heights. It’s easy to recognize fine craftsmanship because it took great skill to produce.
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Art schools teach skills or the craft of communicating emotion. The schools of craftsmanship teach high skill but will also move students toward self expression. It’s as though they are teaching the same thing from opposite ends of a spectrum.
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In the middle of the art craft spectrum you’ll find fine art and beautiful craft sitting side by side; indistinguishable over time like paintings of the Dutch masters. Great artists become skilled at communicating their emotions and fine crafts people become emotional expressionists through their medium. It’s the same thing but approached from different directions. Neither is easy. Neither is superior.
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To view his work, visit Bruce's website:
http://www.deboerworks.com/
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To read other articles and essays:

http://www.brucedeboer.typepad.com/articles_and_essays/

"I Am An Artist" - Gwendolyn A. Magee

The following was originally printed as a commentary piece for the April 2005 issue of Artist Quarterly, the Alabama, Arkansas & Mississippi Regional e-mail newsletter of SAQA
(Studio Art Quilt Associates)

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“I am an artist” – four little words, each fairly insignificant by itself, but so extremely affirming when strung together. Four little words, “I am an artist”, powerful beyond parallel – when believed.

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How do you present yourself to others? Do you speak with assurance about yourself as an artist? Do you converse with confidence, with passion, and with enthusiasm when talking about your art? Or are you tentative in your response when someone asks about you and/or your work? If so, they in turn will certainly be tentative about whether to consider you as a “real” artist, as well as tentative about whether to consider your work as art. This in turn will affect the extent to which they have interest in purchasing or exhibiting your work, as well as their perception of its appropriate monetary value (i.e. how much they think your art is worth and how much they’re willing to pay for it – keeping in mind that these are two different considerations).
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TAKING CONTROL
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Talking About Your Work to Others – Informing / Raising the Level of Consciousness
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When asked about my profession, my usual answer is simply, “I am an artist.” This is stated forthrightly, directly, and with looking the person in the eye. And that is where I usually stop – with a period at the end of the sentence.
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My thinking is that this does two things: 1) this simple statement is affirming and provides me with the clarity (not to mention the backbone) to talk about and/or promote myself and my work with assurance and confidence; and 2) it communicates clearly and unequivocally to the other person(s) my expectations in terms of dialogue – i.e., it “sets the tone”, helping to dismiss any notion that what I create is basically what their Aunt Matilda use to make. I think making this distinction is very important whether you are devoting yourself to your art fulltime or as an avocation (which, by the way, is definitely not the same as “hobby”).
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Usually there is a follow-up question similar to “…what is the medium in/with which you work?” My response is fiber, fabric, textiles and thread; that I am a fiber (or textile) artist. That is usually enough. If questioned further or if the person says something to the effect – “do you make quilts?” My response is that the art form through which my work finds expression is based on what is traditionally thought of as a quilt, but that what I create is not even vaguely similar to a bedcover.
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I have taken ownership of how I and my art are to be perceived, communicating this in how I talk about my work and in letting others know clearly the expectations about how it and I are to be regarded and related to. Nonetheless, I don’t take this to the extreme. When, for example, someone introduces me as a quilter, I don’t get my hackles raised and snootily state that “I’m an artiste”. I make judgment calls and at times decide it’s neither appropriate nor worth the effort to make an issue out of it. However, I did rip the tonsils out of a person that once referred to my work as “blankets” (he was deliberately trying to “put me in my place”, but you can be assured he will never make that particular mistake again).
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You alone have to decide how important this distinction is to you as well as to what and how are the best ways to describe and/or present yourself and your work. In any case as stated earlier, if you wish to be treated and taken seriously as an artist, you cannot be tentative or hesitant about how you view your own self. If you are not sure that you deserve to be called an artist, it will be very difficult to convince anyone else that you are.
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Periodically on discussion lists there are a lot of postings related to “…how do you describe yourself…” Once again, it is purely up to you as an individual regarding the terminology with which you are most comfortable. To some extent this also will depend on who your audience happens to be at the moment. Certainly describing your work as quilts is very useful in that people can grasp immediately a general concept and/or understanding about what it is that you create. It also is useful because people relate to quilts very positively, often with fond memories of the quilts their grandmothers made.
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On the other hand, without actually seeing your work it also usually poses difficulty for the non-initiated to make the conceptual leap to anything beyond “bedcover”. And this is what is so problematic. This is this factor that immediately drops what you do four, five or six notches down their continuum of respect, and subsequently how much (translation – “how little”) your work is perceived to be worth monetarily.
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It is sad that this has to be an issue at all, but the reality is that our particular art form is not ordinarily accorded the classification of being “fine art” – an invidious distinction is often made. Beyond the art versus craft pigeonholing, I am totally convinced that in large measure this is due to anything related to needlework traditionally being considered “women’s work” in our culture and society. This particular gender bias suggests implicitly that quilting is primarily “busy work”, isn’t serious, and therefore is much less significant than any of those “more worthy” avocations usually associated with the producers of a high level of testosterone; sculpture or golf for example.
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You sometimes therefore have to demand respect for yourself as an artist by not letting others denigrate your work or define your reality. Depending on the extent to which this is an issue for you at all (there are those for whom it may be irrelevant), if someone introduces you as a quilter, you have the option of gently correcting them – but it has to be immediate – by simply speaking up with a smile and saying, “I am an artist – my work presents itself in the format of what is usually thought of as a quilt”. Remember – it is up to you to be the ever vigilant guardian of the respect that is due to you as an artist, and with which you should expect to be accorded.
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If desired, you can easily continue the conversation by saying something to the effect that, “…quilting is the tradition from which the type of art that I create began. Think of me as someone who uses textiles and threads as paint, who creates brush strokes using a sewing machine, who can manipulate the materials with which I work into sculptural configurations or into highly textural surfaces that suspend from the ceiling or hang on walls.” The critical key is to always and frequently refer to your work as art throughout the conversation – you must keep that concept on the table and in the forefront of any discussion you are having whether it is with others, or only with yourself.
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Bottom line: Do not allow anyone to take liberties with how you

or with how your work is defined.

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For a different point of view read David Lance Goines’ article: http://www.goines.net/Writing/what_is_artist.html

"Putting Rejection in Perspective" - Barbara Macey

If you’re feeling defeated because quilt has been rejected from an exhibition I hope that these true stories will help you to feel more positive and less isolated.

Rejection can be a very touchy subject. It's always unsettling to be rejected but it's an inevitable part of being an art quiltmaker, something that everyone must come to terms with. I asked a number of well known Australian art quiltmakers about their negative experiences. All readily agreed to be mentioned by name in the original newsletter article. They could see that it was in a good cause, that it could help other people to understand that having their quilts rejected is not the end of the world. But most were not keen to have their names included in the website version of the article. For that reason I've given all but one of them nicknames. But I can assure you that every one of these well known art quilters has received many, many rejection letters.

WHAT SPELLS SUCCESS FOR AN ART QUILTER?
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If it's all so traumatic, why would anyone subject themselves to entering exhibitions with a selection process? No doubt the reasons are varied and complex. Far from being overwhelmed at the thought of having their work critically scrutinised, many people have a competitive spirit and relish the challenge. For some people, this kind of success represents another step forward in their quilting career, another proud entry in their CV. This is important for the quilter who wishes to exhibit in prestigious textile and craft exhibitions. (Exhibitions with no selection process are not generally considered to advance an art quilter's career, nor in certain circumstances should they appear on a CV).

Being selected for the right exhibitions can lead directly to awards, more invitations to exhibit, purchase of work for public or private collections, exposure overseas, teaching appointments or indirectly to grants, residencies and more. Being able to demonstrate a good track record as an artist can be crucial. But it is not for everyone; if the whole idea of putting your work and yourself to the test in this way turns you into a nervous wreck, it's not worth doing. There's nothing wrong with enjoying your quiltmaking without being competitive about it.

SUCCESSFUL QUILTERS GET REJECTIONS TOO
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I know that many people will be surprised to learn that even the most successful quilters receive many rejection letters. I hope this knowledge will encourage less experienced quiltmakers to continue with their quiltmaking when rejected. Mary enters many exhibitions and has far more rejections than acceptances, perhaps three rejections for each acceptance. Her track record includes more than one success at Quilt National USA and selection for many other international and Australian exhibitions.

Vickie has won many awards but was frustrated when her wool quilt was not accepted for two exhibitions. It did not seem to fit either traditional or contemporary categories: she wonders if there is a need for another category.
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Of course as quilters become more experienced and have a few successes behind them, they tend to enter more challenging quilt exhibitions as well as general textile and mixed craft exhibitions. It is important to remember that the higher one aims the greater the risk of being rejected. The prestigious Quilt National USA 1999 had over 1400 entries with only 89 being selected. It's a great honour to be accepted for an exhibition of this calibre, and certainly no disgrace to be rejected.

IT PAYS TO BE PERSISTENT
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All successful quilters are persistent, but if there were a prize it would surely go to Glenys Mann of Tamworth, New South Wales. Glenys had twenty seven rejections in a row before taking stock of the situation. She realised that she hadn't been reading the entry forms properly and wasn't giving her entries enough thought. Most importantly she had the courage and insight to appraise her work honestly, saw that she needed to change her tactics and at once found success.

CAN THE SELECTORS BE WRONG?
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Quilts are sometimes rejected from one exhibition then accepted for another. It could be that they were first entered in an exhibition that wasn't appropriate for them. Perhaps it was due to individual differences between selectors. Or maybe it was a genuine mistake on the part of selectors with insufficient knowledge of art quilts. For whatever reason, it is plain that selectors can and do make mistakes. If you think your quilt has been mistakenly rejected, you must accept the decision as final and refrain from complaining to the exhibition organisers. It will achieve nothing, and could count against you in the future.

Jo says it took her a while to get used to rejection, but it's happened so many times she doesn't worry about it now. However, she was quite upset when a client took one of her quilts home on approval, nailed it to the wall, then decided not to buy it! After being repaired, it was later bought by an American TV executive. Hetty had a quilt acquired for the collection of a Russian museum after it was rejected from an Australian exhibition.

My own first rejection in 1973 had both positive and negative outcomes. I decided to enter my first exhibition not really understanding the implications. Turning up at the opening with a friend I felt extremely humiliated when my little patchwork panel was nowhere to be seen. I learned that the 'rejects' were hung at a different venue. My entry was with the rejects because the selection committee thought that it (not a photo mind you), was a piece of curtain material printed with an Op Art design!

Fortunately someone later noticed that it was in fact a novel piece of patchwork and I was immediately invited to conduct workshops and to hold a solo exhibition which was very successful. The same people who had rejected my work were later instrumental in encouraging me to enter craft exhibitions that opened new doors.

A short time later I entered an 'avant garde' quilt in a local textiles exhibition that was supposedly 'cutting edge'. It was rejected, though a rather traditional quilt was accepted. In this case I was able to be more philosophical, concluding – correctly as later events proved - that my quilt was before its time! These were the first in a long list of rejections I've had over the years. Fortunately there have been many acceptances too.
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I think that I was upset at the first rejection because it was so public and because there was no prior notification. Since then I have helped to organise many exhibitions and this experience has made me very much aware of the need to keep the whole process confidential and to promptly inform all entrants of their success or otherwise.

DO WE EVER DESERVE REJECTION?
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For a number of very successful people I spoke with, the answer was ‘yes’. They believed that in some instances they had not succeeded in making a first class quilt and were occasionally relieved that their work was rejected. Some thought that fast approaching deadlines had distracted them. Others believed that experimental work had not really succeeded. Experimentation and innovation are mainstays of art quiltmaking but since all experimentation is a risk it is crucial to be able to honestly assess the success of your own efforts. Just being original certainly isn't enough.

If you can foster the ability to stand back and be detached about your quilt you are less likely to make bad decisions about how successful it is. It also helps to begin well before the deadline to give yourself time to start again if necessary. It takes practice and a resolve to avoid self deception. It's not easy because flaws in the design of a quilt are not always self evident in the same way as they are in something purely practical like a jug that doesn't pour properly!

CAN REJECTION BE POSITIVE?
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I'm really embarrassed about a few of my own quilts that have been selected and in my opinion shouldn't have been. To make matters worse, photos of some of them have been included in exhibition catalogues. Looking at them now, I think that they are not really bad quilts, but they're not good either! Only good quilts enhance your reputation. In the long run the selectors are doing you a favour by rejecting your less successful quilts, though you may not realise this until later!

WHEN ACCEPTANCE IS REJECTION!
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Some people experience a kind of rejection whilst apparently being accepted. Trudie entered a quilt in an exhibition. It was well known that though there was no formal selection, the least favoured items were hung as far as possible from the entrance door of the exhibition space. Trudie was mortified to find that her quilt was hung a great distance from the door, and even worse, it was hung out of sight on the back of a cabinet! This was a case of the wrong kind of exhibition for a wonderfully adventurous quilt.

Agatha had just returned from a trip to Japan when I spoke with her. She was disappointed that though her quilt had been accepted for exhibition, it was returned without being hung, along with the quilts of several other Australians who had also been told that they had been accepted.

Edna had two quilts selected for a national mixed craft exhibition in a distant city. By chance she discovered that they were not hung and though she made inquiries, no explanation was ever given. The makers of other quilts selected for the same exhibition – also not hung - were told that there was not enough space available. Incidents like this should never happen.

IMPROVE YOUR CHANCES OF ACCEPTANCE NEXT TIME

• Stay positive and confident. Realise that receiving
  rejections is the norm for everyone. Don't let it stop
  you from entering another exhibition. Like Glenys Mann,
  you can resolve to make it a learning experience by
  honestly assessing what went wrong.
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• Take the initiative, work at resolving problem areas.
  .
• Is there a possibility that you're entering the wrong kind of exhibition?
  .
• Are you hazy about what's original and what's not?
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• Does your design or technique need improving?
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• It's important to develop a coherent body of work,
  to make your own exciting journey as a quiltmaker.
  Are you doing this or just responding to exhibition
  opportunities as they come up?

Educate yourself - it can be fun!

• Is your photography letting you down? Try
  taking a course or refer to one of the many
  excellent books now available.
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• Consider a mentor. You could approach an
  established quilt artist with a view to arranging
  a kind of apprenticeship in exchange for acting
  as her assistant part time for a while. (If you will
  be working in someone else's studio, find out first
  how you stand legally. For example, will you be
  covered by insurance in case of injury or other
  adverse circumstances?)
  .
• If there are other art quilters in your area, maybe
  you could get together and form a group for mutual
  support. Many people have done this successfully.
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• Is there a critique group nearby? If so, give it a try,
  if not consider forming one yourself. The benefits
  are truly worthwhile and having your work assessed
  by an expert in front of a group isn't nearly as scary
  as you'd imagine.
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• Broaden your view and hone your skills by taking
  master classes with appropriate tutors.
  .
• Consider taking a tertiary arts/textiles course.
  Some institutions now make it possible to study no
  matter where you live.
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• Read widely and attend art quilt exhibitions as well
  as other high profile art and craft exhibitions. Absorb
  information from websites, magazines, books and
  exhibition catalogues local and international. Don't
  forget historical quilts, there is much to be learned
  from them.
  .
• Do all this and you will begin to get a feel for what's
  going on in the contemporary art world and where
  you and your work fit in.

Be well organised
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This all sounds obvious but it's surprising how many people fall by the wayside because they neglect the basics.

• Read the entry form before starting to make
  your quilt, note the rules and stick to them.
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• Answer every question and keep your statement
  to the prescribed length.
  .
• Work out a timetable that allows plenty of time
  for designing and making the quilt plus plenty of
  time for photography and any necessary processing.
  Then allow extra time in case something goes wrong!
  .
• Learn to take good photos or find a professional
  photographer, preferably one who has a good reputation
  for photographing quilts.
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• Avoid being disqualified due to your entry arriving
  too late. Make sure you send it off in time to reach
  the organiser well before the deadline.
  .
• Don’t ever ask for any favours or expect the exhibition
  organiser to change the rules for you. That would be
  unethical because it’s not fair to those who have taken
  the trouble to abide by them.
  .
• Take the initiative, be honest with yourself, and learn
  to be your own most ruthless critic. In the end, only
  you are responsible for what you achieve.

SELECTORS AND JUDGES
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Though disgruntled rejectees often suspect some kind of favouritism or unfairness, I believe that this is quite exceptional. After all, selectors value their reputations too, and most take pride in doing a good job.

Certainly the ones I spoke with approach their task very seriously. Selectors are aware that it is unfair and inappropriate to bring biased views to the selection process and they make an immense effort to be even handed. In a small place like Australia, it's inevitable that selectors will know some of the quiltmakers whose work they are assessing. It's unavoidable but need not be a major problem. Selectors are conscious that the situation calls for great care and speak of bending over backwards to avoid favouring someone whose work they recognise. But often it’s not recognised; I've been surprised on more than one occasion to learn that I've rejected the work of well known and successful quiltmakers who are personal friends, a painful experience for all, but you can't get more unbiased than that! My own work has also occasionally been rejected by a friend.

Most organisers attempt to minimise the risk of bias by employing a panel of selectors of varied background, usually three in number to avoid a stalemate. Those who are not quiltmakers usually have appropriate specialised knowledge of some aspect of the art world, though they may not know much about quilts. To provide a balance and remedy this deficiency it is usual to include a quiltmaker. If the exhibition is held regularly, there will be a different panel each time. Thus entrants who are rejected by one panel may well be accepted by another. There are variations on this arrangement. Some institutions have a single selector, different on each occasion. Others, perhaps with a particular policy in mind, use their own staff on all occasions.

In fact, we all have biases that we are not aware of. It would be naive to imagine that bias can be totally eliminated, but it can certainly be reduced. In the end, selectors are only human and exhibition entrants need to be realistic about what can be expected of them. The vast majority do approach their difficult task with the utmost care.

Sometimes the identity of selectors is publicised beforehand, sometimes it is not. There are people who decide whether or not to enter an exhibition on the basis of who is on the selection panel. I don't know how effective this strategy is, but I suspect that it's doesn't always enhance the entrant's chances of success.

I hope that these true stories of rejection will help you to feel less isolated and encourage you to keep making quilts, and to keep entering exhibitions. It's quite evident that receiving a rejection letter doesn't mean that a quiltmaker is a failure. Rather, it's a reminder that persistence counts as much as ability and that is very encouraging.

Barbara Macey © 2001

This article is part of a series giving a behind-the-scenes account of exhibitions from the point of view of the exhibitor and of the organiser.

It was first published in Ozquilt Network Newsletter (#40, June 2001), the newsletter of Ozquilt Network Inc, Australia’s organisation for art quilters. The article also appears in the newsletter archive on their website, http://www.ozquiltnetwork.org.au/
Email: admin@ozquiltnetwork.org.au

Barbara Macey is the Ozquilt Network, Inc. Newsletter Editor,
Website Coordinator and Running Stitch Coordinator