Losing control.

For the past month, I’ve taught 3 different project classes in 3 different places, gone to meetings upon meetings, done interviews, and managed to squeeze a few hours in the studio. Ok, I’ve been busy. The point is: how much of these creative projects and time are within my control?

As a self-employed artist, teacher and writer, you might think all of it. I used to think that, too. Not anymore.

I’ve always been a self-motivated creative person. If I wanted to make something, I made it. If I didn’t know how, I figured it out. That might mean reading a book, taking a class or just doing it. Whatever I needed to do, I did it. Myself. I had creative control of my project.

That was an illusion. I wasn’t in control of my creativity then and I’m not now.

I may want creative control, but I don’t have it. It doesn’t matter whether I’m working alone in the studio, on a group project, or in a class with students. Students show up or not. Some people are easy to work with, others not. Ideas that seem good, go bad. Supplies get discontinued.

What I really want is a good ending. That's why I think I need creative control. What I need to do is to lose control and follow the creative road. Trusting the bends, bumps and detours are all important parts of the journey. And that the end result I’m trying to control isn’t the end at all, it’s just a stop along the way. Sometimes the stops are good. I make a beautiful piece with clay, metal or words. Sometimes, it’s bad. I recycle the pieces and learn something new.

Maybe, creative control isn’t something I really need and don’t really even want. It’s just my fear wanting to drive my life, so maybe it’s time to shift into a different gear. Lose the control and enjoy the ride.

A Dream & A Message.

(Sculpture: Lion 2009)

I woke up from a scary dream last week and felt wonderful. I felt a kind of peace, mixed with a curiosity that I haven’t felt in a long time. And I also knew I was remembering the dream because it had an important message for me. I needed to figure it out.

Here’s the dream.

I was driving my car, making a left turn through an intersection when the gas pedal stuck. The car stalled. There I was in the middle of the intersection, the light about to change, cars about to start coming my way and the gas pedal was still stuck. No matter how hard I pushed or pumped, the gas pedal wouldn’t budge. The car was stopped. I was getting frantic when I realized that I had only one option. Take my foot off the gas. This seemed like an illogical move. How could I move forward if I took my foot off the gas? I pumped the gas pedal some more, the car didn’t move. So, I took my foot off the gas. Immediately, there was a popping sound and the gas pedal was no longer stuck. I knew I could go. Carefully, I lowered my foot, gently pushing down on the peddle and the car moved through the intersection. I made my left turn, continued on my way safe and sound.

Here’s the message.

The gas peddle – my energy – was stuck. I was afraid, but no matter how hard I pushed myself, I was not able to move through the intersection. I was literally at a crossroads – a decision had to be made. There was danger to myself if I didn’t take action and forces outside my control, illustrated by the oncoming cars. And it was clear that continuing to push on the gas was getting me nowhere. So I had to face my fear, and take my foot off the gas. When I did, I was able to drive my car through the intersection, making the left turn that I had wanted to make and continue on my way. Healthy and unharmed.

I’ve been working very hard in the last year. And although, I love working in metal, clay and paint as well as writing and teaching and showing, I’ve been driven by fear. This economic recession has hit home. My husband was laid off. My two ‘children’ are living at home. My art work has made money but it’s been small amounts that were ‘perks’ to our family budget, not necessities.

I didn’t want to give up my art work. It’s a career that I’ve been working on for over a decade now. So, I did the only thing I thought I could and that was make more work, show in more shows, and line up more classes. And I’ve done just that, in the last year, I’ve made over 30 new pieces, shown in over 14 shows, written on more blogs, tried new online networking/marketing sites and lined up over 20 new classes. And I’ve made a little more money. But I’ve had a lot of classes and shows that didn’t make anything. If all the classes had gotten sign ups, I’d be teaching in three different places, 3 to 4 times a week. There was a part of me that realized that this schedule was way too busy.

The dream had a message. Stop. Quit pushing yourself. That the only way to make it safely through the intersection of all these oncoming forces out of my control, was not to be more controlling. But to let go. Take my foot off the gas and allow the pedal to pop up on its own. Then I could move ahead in the direction I want to go.

Letting go. Letting the opportunities pop up, then gently, pushing down on the gas is the way to move ahead safely. Now that’s a wonderful feeling.

(Moon-Susan Gallacher-Turner)


Sculpting a Life:
Studio secret revealed.

I used to have a secret about something I did in the studio everyday that nobody knew about. I did it everyday, the same way. I felt a little guilty about it because it felt so good to do it. So I kept it to myself, my little studio secret. What I didn’t know then was this; this secret was important to my success as an artist, my health, sanity, relationships as well as my productivity.

What is it? It’s hard to put a label on it. So I’ll just go ahead and describe it step by step.

First, I’d make coffee. While that was brewing, I’d light a candle or two and put on a CD, usually instrumental. When the coffee was ready, I’d pour myself a nice, big, mug full and head to my studio. I’d sit down in the wicker chair with my dog at my feet and begin. I closed my eyes, sniffed and sipped my coffee and concentrated on nothing. I did nothing but sit, sip, listen and breathe. Thoughts would rush through my head. Feelings would bubble up from within, sometimes I’d sigh, sometimes I’d cry. But through it all, I’d keep sitting.

I treasured that time and called it my Creative Meditation. I got brave after awhile and put it on my schedule as C.M. I was able to do it after everyone else had left for school or work and I was alone. It felt so luxurious to have that time, alone, all for me – everyday.

Where did it go? Life changed. It’s hard to find the space and time to do it. My kids are college-age, live at home and are here most mornings, so I’m no longer alone. My beloved dog, Heather died and, although, a wonderful new lab has come into my life, she doesn’t always sleep at my feet. I’m also feeling the economic pinch, the need to push myself harder, to make more money, to be more productive. That means more to do and less time to be.

I remember when I started on my road as an artist and I began my creative meditation, I was afraid if I stopped and sat down, I might never get anything done. Of course, that didn’t happen. I’ve gotten a lot done over the years and have the portfolio to prove it.

There’s a lot to do. Right now in the studio, there’s a copper leaf piece on the table, three clay busts on the rolling stand, and a screening sculpture on the easel waiting for another layer of paint. There are new classes to plan and organize. Writing projects for blogs, freelance, interviews, book reviews that all need to be finished. Then there’s the work that goes with living; dishes, laundry floors, cat boxes, garbage, cooking, walking the dog. It seems an endless list that once done needs to be redone. Everyday.

I love what I do. And whether I’m sculpting, teaching, writing or connecting with new people I’m focused right there. So why can’t I focus on taking this space each day? Why is it so easy to-do and so hard to-be?

Fear. Now I’m afraid that if I stop doing, I’ll be swallowed up by fear. My fear of the unknown and my feelings of powerlessness will bring me to a grinding halt.

But running away from my fears doesn’t make me less afraid, all it does is keep me away from me. And after all, in this world of unknowns if you don’t know yourself, what do you know? I think that one way to get through the unknowns is to get back to what I do know. Me. Everyday.

Today, my to-do is to-be. For 1 cup of coffee, I resolve to let myself have a space everyday to be, to sit, to breathe in and out, to listen whatever pops into my head or heart.

Out with the old
And into a new year, thank god.

I’ve been putting off writing my blog for the New Year. Procrastination is not one of my faults, honest, you can ask my friends, family, fellow artists. I make my deadlines.

So why am I dragging my feet, here? I’m not sure, really. But let’s face it, the last year was definitely difficult. I started the year with my wrist in a cast. I couldn’t work in the studio, drive or tie my own shoes. I went through physical therapy which meant more pain as I worked my way through all the exercises. Then there were the job changes. Lay-offs. Fill-in work. Part-time. It meant saying good bye to familiar routines, friends, medical benefits and money.

It was scary. Even though, I know we’re not alone, there was gloom and doom everywhere I looked, it was still hard. What was hardest was not losing faith, in the face of fear.

I tend to be a “Polly Positive’, you know, the person that sees the silver lining in the clouds, the lemonade among the lemons, the openings when doors close. This year, I found myself mired in the pit more than I’d like to admit with tears streaming down my face as I mopped the floor or painted in the studio. I can’t believe I’m writing about this, because at the time, I was so ashamed of myself.

Now, I know that there is no shame in feelings. And that feelings, felt, don’t get in the way of progress. Because although, there were losses last year, there were also gains, too. That was the biggest surprise of all.

In spite of the difficulties and fear throughout the year, I completed more pieces, participated in more shows, sold more work, taught in more places to adults as well as children, did a series of artist interviews, wrote podcasts, artist profiles and book reviews, and met many wonderful new people. And I didn’t realize it all until I sat down to write in my journal on New Year’s Eve.

The year that had started out to look like complete failure was, actually, successful. And not just for me, either. My husband got out of a job that he felt stifled by and into a new place where his talents are valued, used, and being expanded. My daughter has tripled the students she had last year. My son quit one job, found another and has learned a whole set of new skills. Even the dog made progress. Now, she can heel off leash for me, as long as there’s no snow, of course.

We started last year with loss and sadness and ended it with gains and happiness we could never have imagined.

So what do I want to throw out with the old year, then? Dead-end jobs. Duck and cover tactics to try to insure security. Keeping my light low to avoid being seen. Routine and boredom. Fear. Sadness.

Ok, maybe I can’t throw out fear and sadness. They’re feelings that are part of living. What I can keep is the knowledge that feelings of sadness don’t prevent happiness. That fear doesn’t prevent action, in fact, it can inspire it.

Here’s what I’d like to ring in the New Year with – hope in the face of the unknown. Excitement about meeting new challenges leading to growth. Opening up to new people, places and opportunities to be even more thankful for than I could ever imagine.

A NEW ART EXPERIENCE:

FROM ART GAWKER TO ART GROUPY

This weekend in Portland, Oregon, I went to Art In The Pearl, a Labor Day weekend art festival with music, food and kid’s art activities. It’s a gathering of local and regional artists showing work from ceramics, paintings, sculptures, fused glass and photography to hand-crafted leather goods, jewelry, baskets, felted coats and hats. It’s also a gathering of artist guilds and groups doing demonstrations and giving out information to anyone in the community interested in learning more about art. This year, instead of just watching the demos and admiring the art, I was able to have a small part in the event.

As a new member of the Pacific Northwest Sculptors Guild, I was allowed to hang one of my copper repousse’ pieces in the guild tent. Every year that I’ve gone to Art In The Pearl, I’ve always checked out their tent, admired the art and picked up a brochure telling myself I’d join. Last year, I finally did it. It’s been an eye-opening experience. I’ve met many talented artists. Learned about a wide variety of sculpture media. Gotten some really helpful advice. And participated in group shows and demos all over Portland that I wouldn’t have had access to without the guild.

I’ll admit I’ve never thought of myself as a ‘group’ person. I’ve always been comfortable working on my own but I have to say that joining this group has been a great experience for me. And although, I don’t feel that I’ve done much for the group, yet, just a newsletter article or two and a contact list for the president; I look forward to doing and learning more. All in all, I'm learning much more as part of a group than just a gawker. Try and see for yourself.