Seeing the general public view my artwork was very gratifying.  "Buon Appetito!" as I’d hoped, had broad age-appeal. Young children, and their parents loved it!

So did caninekind!

Then there was what was written in my visitor book.  Certain entries in other languages—Italian?—could be figured out without translation, even with handwriting that was hard to read… Here are some examples:

• "Complimenti, fresco, colorato, diret, molto bello… can I eat it?!"
• "Your works taste good!  I love it!"
• "Colori, allegria e voglia di vivere!!"
• "SORRY  I’m on a diet…Very, very nice…"
• "From Canadian to Italian, you know how to communicate the contrast in what is real flavour and artificial flavour.  In Italy, little flavour need be enhanced.  Your paintings speak of the vitality in food here."
• "Une magie di colori, complimenti!"
• "Trionfs di colori.  Il motion artisco della quotidiannite.  Rapporto el publblico diretto basato su un patrimonio commune di sensezioni e percezioni.  Grazie!"
• "Thank you for the light!"

Feedback from other Biennale artists, viewing recent blog entries on this site, suggests the need for new Biennale recognition/prize categories: "artists’ choice" and "viewers’ choice" awards.  Perhaps "children’s" and "canine’s choices" wouldn’t be a bad idea too!  That way there might be more interesting (and fairer) outcomes.

I’m thrilled to be contacted by those who enjoy my poetry. Earlier this month, Susan Kusel, of the Wizards Wireless Blog, wrote to ask permission to include excerpts from my Kilimanjaro series on her "Poetry Friday." Her brother, Russ, was due to climb Kilimanjaro, and she wanted to provide him with inspiration. How wonderful! Last week, after Russ returned from his successful ascent, Susan posted her own poem to honor his journey. Comments back to both blog posts, by readers, and Russ, himself, were, affirming, touching, and thought-provoking. Siblinghood at its best!

You Tube video footage of my participaton at the Biennale was finally posted by the Biennale crew today, in three parts. I had no clue about what they were ultimately going to do, or editorial input. You’ll find me buried inside the footage if you’re patient—in parts one and two. Not in part three, as far as I can see…

part 1 http://it.youtube.com/watch?v=00Nr_2h52E4

part 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEfKwVFiy_U&feature=related

part 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8nnl1xQZT8

An after-the-event Florence Biennale critique with judge Gregorio Luke was helpful. With perseverance and commercialism (of my imagery), he forecast, "new doors opening."  Luke stood out from other exhibition judges with his extra efforts to speak to as many Biennale participants as possible.  His general message was that it’s not what ciritcs say, it’s what you do as artist.  An expert on Frida Kahlo, he suggested using her approach as "model": communicating directly with the public.  In fact, during his official presentation, Luke stated, "Don’t try to go to a closed and elitist art establishment." (Image above, taken during Luke’s official presentation.)

Gilbert and George, honored with the Biennale’s "Lorenzo il Magnifico" career award, are quite different from Kahlo—in intention, appeal, and subject matter.  During Tim Marlowe’s Biennale interview with them, they insisted "Art has to be powerful or people pass it by…"  (Maybe they meant "shocking"?).  Their "Naked Shit" series (the title of which Marlowe repeated over and again in his questions) is just one example.  Gregorio Luke, the first time I introduced myself to him, stated,  "I don’t know your name, but I remember your art!"  Encouraging for work that’s not likely to be considered  "shocking"…

The evening before Gilbert and George’s interview, I ran into them by the Ponte Vecchia.  These "Men in suits" (a way, they claim to be have been able to sell themselves to dealers, from 1968 on) were now "men in overcoats," and a young Florentian was trying to take their picture with his cell phone camera.  I helped out, enabling him to be in the shot with them, then shared that I was a Florence Biennale artist hoping for feedback. Keeping the focus on themselves, the duo expressed surprise that I could have missed their enormous exhibit at the Tate (even though I told them that I don’t live in the UK). A conversation closer…

Another important man (in suit) who cut things short with me, last November, was Donald Trump.  In New York City, the week before leaving for the Biennale, I was meeting a friend at the Trump Tower cafeteria for lunch. By surprise, I noticed "the Donald" going up the escalator, and decided to approach him.  "Mr Trump" I braved, "May I please ask you a question?"  Thin and pale (without TV makeup), he turned in my direction, responding, "You’re a beautiful woman…  where are you from?"  The answer "Toronto," it appears, wasn’t a good one.  Hand up in the air after hearing this, he turned, elevator doors closing behind him.  Alas, no chance to pitch my Biennale exhibit series, "Buon Appetito!" to him.  Since climbing Kilimanjaro, I might have become a little more gusty—but there’s always need for help with closing a deal!

Interactions with other artists tended to involve those positioned at close proximity. But, quick wanderings around the exhibition gave an overall feel of atmosphere, energy, artwork, and personalities.  

12 artists I’d not met before, and spent time with during the Biennale are listed below (in alphabetical order). You might like to check out their work:

• Jeff Beier (sculpted painting)
• Joy Engelman (environmental painting)  
• Jim van Geet (figurative painting)  
• Pam Ingalls (Russian impressionist painting)   
• Olga Karpeisky (still life and portrait painting)
• Rian Kerrane (sculpture/installation)
• Janice Lawrence (joyful painting)  
• Charlotte Lugt (abstract painting)
• Mary Medrano (painting)  
• Miriam Pet-Jacobs (mixed media)  
• Danish Saroee (photography)  
• Mona Youseff (realist painting)  

12 artists I didn’t get to meet at the Biennale, but whose work I enjoyed viewing, are listed below (in alphabetical order):

• Ina Bartelds (floral painting)
• Karima Ben Otmen (painting with Arabian influences)
• Gina Blickenstaff (mother/child portraits)  
• Maria Catuogno (sculpture)  
• Cheri Christensen (Russian impressionist painting)
• Ann Dunbar (watercolour painting with embroidery) 
• Kimmo (Kimmo style painting)
• John van der Kolk (sculpture)
• Bria Kromm (painting with layers and symbols)  
• Nancy Lamb (figurative landscapes) 
• Maria Isabel Parra (multi-media artist)
• Sergei Zlenko (Russian figurative painting)

Some artists, attached to causes, were able to be more visible because of this:

• Pomm Hepner (watercolor painting) got extra wall exposure and mention due to her Artists for Human Rights membership. She is also a prominent Scientologist.
• Josie Taglienti (abstract pastels) promoted the Fine Art Registry, having been sponsored by them.

My Biennale display neighbors were two painters with very distinct styles and techniques:

• Denise Faegenburg  
• Amy Swartelé  

Having had a chance to review Biennale artists’ websites since the exhibition, I realize that while some had their best work on show there, others didn’t. The Biennale was, in many cases, an opportunity to sample a small piece from much larger pies and gain exposure.

Of course, there are many other artists I’d like to link in this blog entry, but that’s what the official catalogue is for, and where most participants were given equal space. Painter Nafisa Naomi, however, got a double-page spread—in advance of her winning first prize for her four canvas display, "Regeneration".  Unusual coincidence!  So did mixed media artist, Jackie Sleper—in advance of her winning first prize for her sculpture, "Modestia," given pride of place in the Biennale main foyer area (as shown here).

We don’t often know what will end up as an award winning work, or exactly why. A closer look at "Regeneration" (segment pasted below) may appear a tad disappointing—have viewers wondering how the canvases joined together (or whether they were supposed to).

Some nationalities weren’t as apparent at the Biennale as others. The Dutch had a huge contingent—97 (maybe).  840 artists from 76 countries were present, I believe.  There were also a lot of transplanted artists (those who found it hard to say which country they actually represented), like Plein Air Cottage artists, Helen Tilston and Violeta Shtumeyzen.  One evening, six of us went out for dinner, and found, by chance, that what we all had in common was being from one place but living in another.  Some had changed countries two or three times.  I could relate!  Is it the artistic spirit that encourages these moves, or modern day life?

Traditionally, if you search on-line, the Florence Biennale has had mixed reviews.  Having now participated, personally, I feel somewhat qualified to share pros and cons.  My You Tube video interview was filmed on Day 4, and focuses on the positive (though we are still waiting for the Biennale folks to post it).  This blog entry considers the whole picture (no pun intended).

Let’s stress the positive (in random order):

1.   Abundant networking opportunities between artists
2.   A live how-to guide for how to show your artwork (or not)
3.   A chance to discover what’s hot (possible) and what’s not, in art, and beyond
4.   An extended stay in Florence (and not as a tourist)
5.   Web presence enhancement (through participation)
6.   Time out from the studio—chance to taste "la dolce vita"
7.   General public’s feedback—international audience
8.   Connections made with viewers passing through
9.   Networking locally (in Florence)
10. Opportunities for commissions, sales, shows
11. International perspective and acknowledgment
12. Personal development opportunities

Familiar common complaints (in random order):

1.   Not enough visitors (likely not helped by time of year)
2.   Difficult layout and unfair allocation of display spaces
3.   Inadequate local publicity and attendance
4.   Most judges more aloof than approachable
5.   Select work given attention by judges, much of the rest ignored
6.   Certain presenters stood out, others had listeners walking out
7.   Environmental conditions challenging (heat, air, light…)
8.   Display equipment challenging (not flattering to artwork)
9.   Snack bar (food and service) not as expected for Italy
10. Many better works weren’t considered for prizes  
11. Too many artist-participant expenses and frustrating "administrivia"
12. Too much sitting around for artists who stayed on site

Those who go back again (participate in subsequent Biennales) demonstrate they’re not concerned with the glitches.  Those who don’t, have either been put off the first time, or simply can’t participate again for a myriad of other reasons.  In a world, and at a time, when fresh possibilities arise daily, pros, cons, and alternatives are reviewed carefully—as are first-hand accounts.  No matter what’s been considered disappointing about the Biennale, there’s still a lot of good to be said about it.  The opportunity to follow-through on the invitation to show at such an epic event comes to most of us only once.

In an ealier blog entry, I explained how preparing for the Biennale likely enabled me to complete the Kilimanjaro climb.  Now, having completed the Biennale, I realize that the Kilimanjaro climb might have helped me to make the most of participating at the Biennale.

Poems 15 and 16 provide closure to my Tanzanian travels—reveal their legacy and an after-trip evaluation of sorts.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)  Next, I’ll share the lessons of Kilimanjaro, which, I believe, helped prepare me for the Florence Biennale experience!

15.  From JRO to YYZ

It wasn’t paradise
But it was very nice

16.  Trip Evaluation

Recognizing what’s good
The important understood.

 
Poem 14 was written on the journey home.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

14.  2 Degrees C in Toronto—Light Snow Falling

It’s a long way back from Africa
Dreams fade to realities
Magical moments diluted in airports

Planning for what, where, when
Already.

Poem 13 describes final game sightings, heralding the trip’s conclusion.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

13.  Day 9

Penultimate game drive
Not as alive

Gracefully and elegantly close our trip
Of magic a real sip.

Poems 11 and 12 describe personalities we met along the way—highlight less typical cultural exchanges and adaptations.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

11.  Safari—Day 7

Bats by night
Bows by day

Journey back
Dust hard to swallow.

12.  Safari—Day 8

Masai village resort
A transitional place
Others set the pace

For me, not a happy feeling
We lie in our cozy beds at night
Their experience, more of a fight.

 

 
Poem 9 explains how campers’ fatigue had set in.  Poem 10 describes a more active way of taking in the landscape and meeting its people—cycling.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

9.  Safari—Day 6

Chips, spaghetti, canned veg and mince
Usually food that would make me wince

At this point
Anything tastes good
Stomach understood.

10.  Safari—Day 7

African biking
Like its hiking

Another day in Africa
Luxuriating in the moment
Not thinking about what might be elsewhere
Details swirl, but no heavy care.

Poems 6, 7, and 8 describe experiences in the Ngorongoro Crater area, where wildlife was more sparse and a slight safari-fatigue was manifesting.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

6.  Safari—Day 4

7.  Monkey Picnic

8.  Afternoon Drive

Though not close
Of excitement provides a dose.

Poem 5 describes the most potent people experience—with the Masai. (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

5.  Masai

Masai Masai everywhere

Spontaneous visit done
A lot of fun
Everyone won.

Poems 3 and 4 are the second two Serengeti poems. (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

3.  Safari—Day 3/1

Warm breeze
Flapping tails
Zebras relaxing
Nothing taxing

Worries and cares
This hour we have none
Except with nature
To be at one.

4.  Safari, Day 3/2

National Geographic yellow jeep
Wide angled lens pops out
Not a peep.

Many Kilimanjaro climbs are followed by a safari, and ours was no exception.  Also, poetic reflections kept on coming, and will be included in the blog posts immediately following.  You might also like to look back at my other poetic safari experiences from 2006:  general observations, as well as those specific to experiences in Botswana and Zambia. 

The 16 poems from the Tanzania trip have slightly different emphases and perspectives. Though there are many aha moments, the magic of first-time marveling isn’t quite as pronounced.  Also, having just climbed Kilimanjaro, any experience, no matter how special, is hard to juxtapose.

All 16 poems will be posted chronologically (over 9 blog pieces, which includes this one).  The first four poems were written in the Serengeti, which, for me, was the most potent wildlife experience. 

Poems 1 and 2 are the first two Serengeti poems.

1.  Safari, Day 2

The chorus starts well before dawn
Songs and signals
The volume rises

2.  Safari Recap—Day 1 - 2

So many herds
So many terds.

 

 
The two poems that follow look at transitioning back to reality—our own world of others and the Tanzanian roadscape that we found ourselves traveling through (Kilimanjaro, behind and above the clouds and the meaning it may imbue, personally and locally).

8.  Explaining to Others

Explaining to others
Is hard to do

9.  On the Road

Bougainvillea
Dashes of pink
Makes you think.

 
The following two poems look at impact:  after-climb thoughts and reflections.

6.  Day 8—After Climb

Up there
Down here

7.  Day 8—Camaraderie

With some you can
And others you can’t

Continuing onward, upward, forward
No markings on the trail ahead
Spontaneity instead.

 
The first of the next two poems describes approaching the final ascent.  The second records having made it to the top.

4.  Day 5

Nearly there
In the world without a care
Except getting there

Applying lessons learned along the Machame Way
To a very different N. American every day.

5.  Day 6, Kili Ascent:  Success

Strong in body
Strong in mind

Those who did.

 
The two poems that follow here are mid-climb, on a long Day 4.

2.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/1

Equal when challenged
Challenged when equal

A group spirit endures
To everyone, a round of applause.

3.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/2

Candy wrappers show the way
Who would have thought?
Toilet paper marks the spot
Who would have known?
Cell phone signals around most bends
Who would have guessed?

Contrary to the N. American way
Something to remember
A take-home gift with which to play.

Climbing Kilimanjaro was truly a life-changing experience—one I’ve been savoring almost daily since returning.  Some of the details are fading and the final hours of the ascent are a little sketchy.  Only talking with those who were there with me helps, and explaining to others properly is difficult sometimes.  However, from Day 3 of the climb, my wordscapes (poetic ramblings) started up, and I’m very glad to have them to look back at now.  These are where I record details and  feelings in the moment (or shortly afterwards). Even those who weren’t with us on the climb, I’ve found, have the opportunity to get a better sense of what transpired by giving this poetic journal a quick look.   

All poems will be entered chronologically.  The first Kilimanjaro poem is included below, and eight more will be divided between the next four blog posts.

1.  Kilimanjaro, Day 3

No I can’t
Yes I can

Can we, will we?
Yes please!
Thrill me.

I’ve developed an interesting (and practical) habit of being in one place but posting blog entries about another.  When my paintings shipped to Florence at the end of October, in preparation for the December Florence Biennale, I shipped myself to Africa (Tanzania).

It was a long-time special dream to be able to climb Kilimanjaro, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I, or the the mountain, would have to realize it.  What perfect timing to get out of the mind and into the body!  After 10 months of uninterrupted painting and related duties, I was ready for a different type of physical challenge—something I didn’t know would test my mental and emotional strength too.  

If you look back to my blog entries for the end of October, 07, you’ll notice the one from the 24th is entitled Endurance, and the one from the 28th is entitled Stamina.  Ironic!  On reflection, I’m clear that my best training for climbing Kilimanjaro might have been painting for the Florence Biennale! Please check out my Candid Artist Ramblings list, posted on my birthday/rebirth (October 19), the day I set out for Africa.  My sudden and acute awareness of transferable skills and attitudes has been eye-opening and educational since.  

I wasn’t the fittest person in the group, I also hadn’t done enough (almost any) training.  So, how did I make it to the top (be in the 50% who do, and the only woman among peers)?  I think three factors helped:  

1. I had the proper clothing (and wore it)—really took time to organize packing and followed all formal instructions from guidebooks and informal instructions from travellers who’d succeeded previously.

2. I didn’t try to be clever or take chances in any way—used poles, ate and hydrated well, listened to the guides in going "pole, pole" (slowly, slowly), and took the necessary meds.  Thank you Diamox (altitude sickness inhibitor)!  Even though this drug made my hands and feet tingle relentlessly, it was a very good friend and support.  

3.  I didn’t go on the climb with the idea that I had to make it all the way.  I was aware that I might not have the capacity to do so, and could forgive myself weaknesses.  Competition was not what this journey was about for me.  It was more of a spiritual quest about being there and experiencing whatever was meant to be—and accepting it, while still fit and young enough to get myself over there.  

The lead-up days to the final ascent were a honeymoon of sorts.  The final ascent was a whole different story—nothing similar—the most challenging physical endeavor I have ever faced (and no one had informed me about properly).  What kept me going on the final ascent?  Three gifts:

1. The camaraderie of those with whom I was climbing and our attentive guides.  

2. The not knowing what was coming next and not having been prepared for the worst—being in a situation I could do nothing about and just getting on with it.

3.  The not-giving up factor, once I was so close, and because there was no real reason to.  How could I go down (in still bad weather conditions) if I hadn’t made it up?  We’d been climbing for six days and, at the 11th hour, I couldn’t justify turning back. It was the same way down if you made it up or not,  and I couldn’t find a good enough reason to turn around.  Not thinking about what I was actually doing or the discomfort of continuing also helped.  Automatic movements and focusing on other thoughts—and struggles—became a lot more meaningful and empowering. I acknowledged that I never really give up, no matter how awful the task is, making the climb a metaphor for so much more.

For the last hour I wept my way up, partly out of pain, partly out of emotion—maybe more out of emotion. I couldn’t turn off my tears or howls. The tears froze and the howls got absorbed by the wind.  The feelings were intensely private.  But, as discussed later with climbing peers, appropriately universal.  These guys had had their own emotional releases too!  Reaching the top, we all embraced.  It was a magical moment in a glacial wonderland where we were too cold and tired to take photos or stick around.

On October 29, 07, back in Moshi, I was able to check e-mail, and saw that a friend had forwarded a New York Times Sunday Magazine feature article by Tom Bissell about his own Kilimanjaro climb, "Up the Mountain Slowly, Very Slowly." It had been published the day before, on October 28, 07.  What a coincidence!  And, even more interesting, Bissell had been based in Rome, pre-trip—unable to fully-prepare himself, either…

Today is very special for those of us invited to show our artwork at the Florence Biennale (07 edition).  It’s taken over a year to prepare and it’s hard to believe this Olympics for artists is finally here.  But, if you look at the images below, you’ll see that it’s true.  This is the entrance to the Fortezza, with posters announcing the event.

And, here is my freshly uncrated exhibit, "Buon Appetito!" (with crates infront).

I arrived in Florence a few days ago, on a picture perfect morning, sunny but crisp, and had a magnificent view of the snow-filled Alps on the flight from Munich.  Not a big skier, but this snowscape made me want to be! 

And, it came after a spectacular sunrise.

Of course, photos taken at altitude throuh a plane window, don’t do justice to what’s seen live.  But, it’s always fun to share them.

While I’m a little preoccupied with this new chapter of the Biennale adventure, upcoming blog entries will reveal what has refreshed and empowered me since finishing painting "Buon Appetito!" in September—an extra special visit to Africa at the end of October.  The photo below provides a clue as to where.  (Please remember to click on the images to enlarge them.)

Art has value, and value isn’t always financial. Just as it is counterintuitive to put a price on human life, it can be the same with art.  Outsiders don’t really know what’s gone into a piece’s actualization—how much of the artist, him/herself, and how many hours of skill development and dedication.  Art’s value can be unquantifiable, but the market demands to know and set a price.  What does the market take into account?  Training, experience, reputations, originality, popularity, marketing buzz, or trends.  Much rests on possessing the right style at the right time for the right audience.  Talent and hard work might have little influence.  Those who get noticed and are in high demand might have the least to offer.  We’ve seen this in the entertainment and other (trend-setting) businesses.  Art that is precious to some might not be to others. Over time, art accrues sentimental and commercial value (that can be quite distinct from each other).  It becomes part of our homescape, and gets passed from generation to generation.  Many a time, art is able to be reproduced and gain mileage.  One piece volumized has more worth than could ever be imagined.  Sometimes, artists have the tools and ingenuity (or back-up team) to make this happen.  Most of the time, they don’t.  Alas, great art is usually recognized and acknowledged long after its creator is around to enjoy it.

Artistic creations are frequently private, but all the more interesting when shared.  The individual who makes them is often just a transmitter for the collective consciousness.  Whatever needs to be expressed, or seems to be going on in a particular environment, might appear in a painting.  If and when we’re ready to see it, we do.  Otherwise, the imagery might be enjoyed at face value.  Also, there may be nothing beneath the surface that needs to be looked into more.  Art is simple and art is complex, as are we.  We see what we want to and ignore what we don’t.  Or, we see more than we’re supposed to and make a fuss about what’s not important.  Interpretation is everything and interpretation is nothing.  Only the creator of a piece knows its real essence and intention.  Or, maybe he or she doesn’t… Anything others say about a piece can be projection.  Or, maybe they have insights that are objective.  Having some distance from the work under review—not knowing every brush stroke that’s gone into it—can enable the viewer/critic to see something the artist might have missed (or not realize is there).

For some, art can be infinite.  For others, it signals natural or man-made limitations.  Art takes money and time.  Some have a lot of both.  Most don’t, so vacillate and negotiate—try to obtain and balance the two.  Art takes money to create, it also takes money to buy.  Art takes time to create, and time costs money, as well as a whole lot more.  How much a painting costs might not be commensurate with the amount of work that’s gone into developing it.  The power to paint and the power to buy come from different sources, but are intertwined.  What’s fair and what’s not change according to who we are and what we need and can realize .  Awareness matters, as do tenacity and being able to go the distance.

Art is whatever you, as artist, or others, as viewers/critics, may want it to be—at the time of creation or afterwards.  All kinds of purposes can be served by what’s been made visible.  Whether metaphors and symbols are evident or not, various kinds of measures are made clear, from within and without—religious, political, idealistic, romantic, aesthetic, or?  Art has an unrivaled ability to give voice to secret yearnings, hidden agendas, and almost-forgotten dreams.  Art puts artist and viewer, alike, in places they might never travel in real life.  It wets the appetite and makes anything seem possible—at least in the moment.

Most artists create art because they yearn to do so.  It makes the unconscious conscious. It also has us realize that powers greater than us are at work when we least and most expect it.  The pieces we are gifted with (as creators or viewers/critics), result from creative processes that are part of a bigger picture (no pun intended) and plan.  They help put things in an out of perspective—enable us to dream, remember, wonder, forget, and more…

In order to be a professional artist these days, simply being able to make art isn’t enough.  You have to be a writer, marketer, networker, gallery aficianado—while having computer savvy too (24/7).  In addition, it’s beneficial if your resume lists formal training (from the right schools/with the right mentors).  This is aside from needing to be a handy(wo)man—knowing how to build and adjust the structures necessary for your artistic creations. Also, resources you might not be able to earn through just selling artwork can come in very handy too!

If it’s worth it, it’s going to take time—an indeterminate amount of time.  Nothing else has to matter except taking things to where they need to go, and have them feel right, or right enough.  And while it’s important to be prepared to put in as much time as needed, it’s also important to know when to stop—recognize when a piece might be finished, or have gone as far as it can go with the skills and experience that you have.  When a piece is rushed, it shows.  Every brush stroke that is deliberate reflects effort and care—respect for the work that is being accomplished.

A painting can be like a puzzle.  You don’t always know what’s going to be easy to solve and what’s not (speaking as artist, not viewer).  I try to learn from and remember every step along the way to know better for next time—have things flow more easily.  An area that seems daunting one day might not be the next.  Or, something that looked good one day, may not work out when other elements are added.  Constantly keeping the whole picture in mind may be a better way to proceed, but this can’t  always happen.  Sometimes, we get stuck on one part for no good reason.  The day goes by, and we feel no further ahead.  Then there’s the good days, when everything works, and you can’t explain why.  The brush is magic in your hands and the paint does exactly what you want it to do, or exceeds expectations.  You wonder, "Who’s painting this piece?" The same happens in writing and other expressive/creative arts.  These are moments to savor  because the times of struggle are usually a lot more familiar and frequent.  But, it’s only because of those struggles that we see the difference and appreciate what we never thought might be possible.  To understand happiness, we need to understand sadness, and so it goes with painting too.

So much of life is luck and timing—and the artist’s process can demonstrate this.  We’re fortunate if we’re able to choose what we paint, though our preferences and outcomes are usually influenced by what’s happening around us.  Painting for the Florence Biennale exhibit has given my work a purpose, focus, and appearance that it might not have had otherwise.  I was influenced by space requirements and deadlines.  I also had to be mindful of making imagery that could have universal appeal.  Then, I had to consider my repertoire—my skills, talents, history, and comfortable subject matter—what I may and may not be able to accomplish at this stage of my career.  Finally, there was the budget—an issue that I didn’t want to have prohibit the quality and dimension of my work.  But, it did.  Whether we like it or not, most artists need patronage of some sort.  Art is an expensive business and can’t be made properly without funds—especially where large public exhibits are concerned.

Being organized matters—even, and especially, as an artist.  Better painting happens for me when my desk is tidy:  correspondence caught up on and phone calls made.  Then, I can shut the door on the studio and just focus on the canvas—no distractions or rambling thoughts and preoccupations or interruptions.  Some days, I know from the start that I shouldn’t have attempted to paint at all.  There’s just too much else distracting.  Other days, I regret not carving out specific time to paint—unable to forget about everything else that has to be done and needs to take priority.  We all have different needs and obstacles and must find what works best for us individually.  For me, painting is a sacred act and privilege, something for which I need to enable quiet space and time in order to reap maximum rewards, experience-wise.  I want a piece to be as whole as possible, unpolluted by the vicissitudes of the hour.  Of course, this is an idealist attitude, but it’s nice to be able to dream and hope.  Painting is also interesting because it is influenced by surroundings and happenings, states of mind and energy levels.  Perhaps because I’ve spent some time practicing art therapy, I’m more concerned with art-making that’s product oriented than art-making connected to the exploration of emotions.  This, however, can prove more difficult when creating abstracts—or so I’ve found.

I wonder about prices a lot—what’ll be fair and what’s not, what works for me as the artist as well as for potential purchasers.  What’s value for money.  What’s value for time.  What’s value for originality and devotion—a piece of my spirit translated to and revealed on canvas.  I try not to think about the middle (wo)man—a gallery or dealer who could jump in and take 50% with an "easier sale."  It can be more prestigious to have that middle person—kind of like having an agent as a writer.  It means you’ve already been weeded out, approved, validated, or regulated and relegated—sometimes, even put your soul on the auction block.  But, just as there are iterary agents who will work with you and those that only have their own profit margins in mind, there are artists’ representatives who are like that too.  Everyone needs to make a living.  At the end of the day, consider who’s starving and who’s not.  These are thoughts constantly floating in my head, as I find it difficult to put energy into trying to get noticed, bought, and valued, while still trying to create.  This isn’t a hobby anymore!  Creating takes soooo much time and skill perfection.  Then, why do potential purchasers insist on bargaining down, like they were in a shuck haggling over a (mass-produced) souvenir memento? Do they realize the time, energy, and dedication put in to what’s been painted?  Could they ever have the skill, talent, or perseverance to make anything similar?  Do they know the real worth of the object created beyond what’s a good deal to them?   Do the bargainers respect the creations or take advantage of an artist’s need for cash to keep up the métier? Ironically, many potential buyers get paid 10 times the dollar rate for work that’s less demanding, and think nothing about submitting invoices to their clients to be paid in advance.  My rambling thoughts on this subject are not about bitterness or jealousy—they’re about others knowingly trying to take advantage.  Of course, there are some artists who let their comrades down by producing inferior work that secures higher prices, just because of hype.  This happens in fashion and other fields too.  Then there’s experience and earning your price point.  But, again, no set path is clear.  Look at Google and YouTube—how quickly they become major monetary successes.  The artist’s path is hard to juxtapose.  For some, networking is everything.  Others don’t have to network.  Regardless, most artists know when they’re doing a good job and the details don’t matter.  The work speaks for itself.  While it’s important for potential purchasers to be prepared to pay appropriate prices, it’s also important for artists to know and expect their true worth—not forget what went into the pieces they’ve made.  Those who slop things out and get big bucks for so-doing—no heart in their work—let down more serious folk.

Ironically, today, many who award grants might not really understand what the artist’s process is all about.  They’re just doing their job, and detached from the players involved.  Then there’s the peer review committees, made up of individuals who too often have their own interests and biases.  And, for those applying for grants, the competition is steep—anyone and everyone who wants to survive in an artistic field needs revenue.  If you can’t work a regular job while creating, what do you do?  Give up?  Many are forced to.  Others go into debt.  Those who keep on going, if they don’t have personal safety nets or private supporters, have to get creative with other fund raising strategies.  And, when you put your creativity into fund raising, you’re taking it out of artmaking.  There’s only so much creativity to be had.  Therefore, you have to hope for kind individuals who you can jump on board to help see you through—assisting with their business acumen to gather the necessary $$$.  Artmaking, when it’s not a hobby, but for public display and enjoyment, is a community service and gift.  An artist, in many ways, is just a transimtter—given opportunities and skills (from outside of him/herself) to put out what others might not be able to do.  Mix a little talent and energy with dedication, industry, and perseverance and a public servant is born, one who needs "patronage" (an old word seldom heard).  Yes, what happened to "patrons of the arts"—those who used to finance artists’ endeavors in front of and behind the scenes—a big reason why art history is so rich and extensive.  It’s only in the last few generations that these types of givers and doers seem to have diminished.  In an age when materialism and quick fixes appear more important than genuine hard work, creative struggle, and innovation, culture and the development and maintenance of "higher" (non-hightech) arts are in jeopardy.  The inability to find support—for the honing of skills that used to gain esteem as a matter of course—is a growing problem, not unique to artists’ predicaments.

JK Rowling discussed her sadness/loss as she completed the Harry Potter series.  Though my work isn’t of the same magnitude or duration as Rowling’s, her sentiments resonate with me.  My Biennale exhibit has been a year-long project—a huge part of my daily identity.  I’ve known such overwhelming expreriences before—for instance, after completing each one of my published (and unpublished) books and each one of my academic degrees (BA, MA, Ph.D., Fine Arts Diploma).  Even for the type of person who puts their all into what they do (professionally, academically, personally) build-up and pull-back can be immense.  They’re also a special gift to be treasured—sadly not in everyone’s reach.

Painting can be physically and mentally draining. It can also elate and energize.  When you put your whole self into your work, and concentrate hard for hours on end, don’t be surprised by how exhausted you might be by the end of a session.  Some days are easier than others, but we never know, in advance, which ones.  (Positive) attitude doesn’t always induce positive outcome.  Art-making is usually more random than formulaic (in my experience).  No matter the rituals that some painters try to set up and try to stick to, not everything can be predictable.  And, if you’re a perfectionist (like me), you’ll go on and on till things look exactly right.

My earlier paintings didn’t take me as long to complete as my later ones do.  A normal expectation would be to be speed up after gaining more experience.  Not at all.  For me, the reverse seems to be the case.  The more you know, the more nit-picking you get (at least in my case).  Standards elevate with a trained and practiced eye.  You see more and what to do even more.  You become critical and less tolerant of what might have slipped by previously.  Each and every detail matters.  Work cannot be "second-rate."  Even if no one else sees your model’s set-up, you have a responsibility for as accurate a rendering as possible (I believe).  You know what should and shouldn’t be there and want to stay true to that.  The pressure is huge, but you have to know when to back off, and learn what’s reasonable and what’s not.  Otherwise, the task becomes impossible.  Sometimes, the positioning isn’t perfect, but you consent and relent to adapt, discovering a slight divergence isn’t so bad after all.  Almost perfect is often better than completely, as you’d once hoped.  Knowing when to calm down and relax about the details is perhaps one of the hardest lessons (at least for me)—can make or break a painting.

My paintings aren’t slapdash.  That is they’re not the type of spontaneous "process pieces" that are dabbed down without thinking.  On the contrary. Surprisingly, thinking is a big part of what I do, as are feeling and intuiting.  Some painters, certain realists for example, might calculate and measure where each element goes and exactly how.  That’s not my way.  I do plan a lot—spend hours on set-up and composition, but still like to leave significant detailing to chance.  For instance, I won’t force a mood or color palette that’s not within my capabilities of the moment.  I also like to guesstimate—even embellish aspects that cry out to me for extra attention.  Consequently, my portraits have caricature-like tendencies and my still-lives are more whimsical than realist.  Then there’s my abstracts, a melange of freedom, control, and spontaneity—more representational than abstract and more abstract than representational.  We see and do what we need to at the time (usually without knowing it)—artist and viewer, alike.

Creative minds are frequently distracted.  An idea surfaces and it’s hard to rest until it can be recorded and/or realized.  My creative bursts come in words and images.  One day it’s words.  Another it’s images.  And, when I’m in the mindset for one the other fades. I can either write or paint, but find it hard to do both together. Over time, I’ve come to know when I’m "off’" or "on"—can be creative or not, and how.  And, I can’t always choose those times.  Some of them are very inconvenient, like today.  I really should be up in my studio painting, but have a word explosion I can’t contain. I need to finish writing this passage—express what’s on my mind while it’s still mulling.  It’s been active for a long time, every day while I’ve been painting.  The thoughts have been there, but the verbalization hadn’t reached a stage fit for sharing—until today. I need to get it out now!  Tomorrow, I’m hoping things will be different.  I have a deadline to meet with my paintings.  The day before yesterday was good with respect to staying focus on painting.  I painted, and painted, and painted, and didn’t get tired.  In fact, I couldn’t eat, drink, or speak on the phone, I was caught up in what I needed and wanted to do, energy growing with each technical difficulty overcome.  I love days like that!  Days with no time limits put you in another place. They’re rare and special, and one of the main secret gifts painting/artmaking/creativity can bestow on those prepared to go the distance—travel bumpy roads on routes you’re not sure can take you anywhere.

 

Painting takes time—more than you might have under normal circumstances. You need to be prepared to give up many other activities (and breaks) in order to paint seriously, proficiently, authentically, and optimally.  This means attempting to stay with the task by preventing (social) interruptions that may be detrimental to your process.  Vacations, weekends, evenings—times when others are relaxing—start to disappear.  Painting takes over and becomes all important—has to be all important.  It’s not a job like any other.  It’s a vocation, and something you can’t always do on command or within a set time frame.  You have to be prepared to go the distance, even when you’d prefer to be doing something else—not have to endure so much isolation.  That said, if you took time out, the ache of not being there to finish your painting may make other experiences less enjoyable.

How much stamina does it take in order to be a serious painter?  A lot!  Even if you sit down and don’t stand, there’s energy exerted—mental as well as physical.  You’re constantly engaged in your process, focusing and concentrating—stepping forward and back, planning and calculating, trying and retrying, doing and undoing.  Sometimes mental gymnastics exhaust. Other times, the sheer physical strain of keeping steady hands, stretching up and down, or twisting, turning and bending provide a work-out you weren’t anticipating.

 

Painters need to be resilient.  Not every piece will work out how you wish it to.  However, there’s no knowing others’ responses.  All you can be sure of, as artist, is that you have to keep on plugging away—no matter how you feel.  The more you practice, the better your work will become, even if you’re the only one who notices.  Putting your best effort into what you’re doing while you’re doing it is what counts.  Short cuts don’t get you to your destination any faster.  Slowly and surely provides more certain foundations and a better route guide.  Even without a teacher or lesson plan, progress is always possible.  We all learn from personal mistakes.  And, since we’re usually our own severest critics, it’s unlikely there won’t be any mistakes (or answers) found.

Artists/painters have qualities that are special to their vocation.  Others may identify with these, and have similar feelings about what they do and how they do it.  I’m curious to compare.  But, right now, I can only speak about my own day-to-day experience preparing the Florence Biennale exhibition collection (and everything associated with it, beyond its actual painting).  The reflections that follow are listed and recorded in the order they emerged:

1.  Endurance
2.  Stamina
3.  Sacrifice
4.  Creative Pressure/Release
5.  Strategic/Conscious Painting
6.  Noticing the Details
7.  Painter’s Fatigue
8.  "JK Rowling Syndrome"
9.  Support/Patronage/Grants
10. Prices
11. Organization
12. Serendipity
13. Puzzle
14. Time
15. Artist Plus
16. (Special)Gift(s)
17. Message(s)
18. Limitations
19. Sharing
20. Preciousness/Value

The next 20 blog postings will each display a different "Buon Appetito!" painting with a reflection following (in the order listed above).  The "Buon Appetito!" paintings will be displayed alphabetically.  Bananas, Beans (Mixed), Blueberries, Cherries (Red), Chocolate Truffles, Dried Fruit and Nuts, Grapes (Green), Grapes (Red), Jelly Beans, Kumquats, Licorice Allsorts, Olives, Onions, Pasta, Peppers, Raspberries and Blackberries, Rice Snacks, Strawberries Sweethearts, Tomatoes.  Each reflection will follow the order shown in the list above and doesn’t have a specific relationship with the image that it follows.

Looking for fun "stocking stuffers," Chanukah ideas, house-warmers, and shower, kicthen, or "just because" gifts?

Please be aware that souvenir reproductions of "Buon Appetito!’s"’ twenty images are being sold by the Good Neighbours’ Fund (mangaged by TD Waterhouse, Yonge/St. Clair branch).  This is to help support Buon Appetito! showing at the Florence Biennale.

Please contact the Good Neighbours’ Fund, directly, if you would like to purchase few-of-a-kind souvenir reproductions of "Buon Appetito!" Your interest is much appreciated.

Items being offered currently are listed below. Please click on the image included here, as guide, or go to the "Buon Appetito!" exhibit page to see more.

 
• Five-card greeting card packs are $20 (Fruit-y, Sweet-ie, Vegg-ie, and Fun-ky).

• Decorative marble tiles are, per tile: 4"—$20, 6" —$35, 8"—$45.

p.s.  DocSusan’s exhibit overview page is now posted on the Biennale’s World Fine Artists’ Site 

Here is a party picture from the October 11 Grano/Florence Biennale party. (Others are posted in the DocSusan’s Website Visual Diary.)

Hon Dr. Carolyn Bennett, MP holds her thank-you portrait with award winning film maker husband, Peter O’Brian.  Artist (DocSusan) looks on and Biennale artwork, "Buon Appetito!" hangs behind.

Last night, the newly launched Yonge/St. Clair Good Neighbours’ Fund held its first community celebration/fundraiser at Grano, which from all reports in was a great success.  The event was on behalf of my Florence Biennale exhibit.

Here are some quotes included in the Good Neighbours’ Fund brochure: 

"St. Clair to ArtWalk and the new Wychwood Barns project, to the recent success with Luminato, we have a great deal to be proud of here in Toronto. I am proud to be part of a small effort to make up for the misguided cancellation of the Public Diplomacy Program which used to help fund artists to show their works abroad.   We are truly blessed to have such a talented artist in Susan Makin living and working in our Riding of St. Paul’s.” 
CAROLYN BENNETT
Member of Parliament
St. Paul’s, Toronto

"I have always felt that all arts (and crafts) benefit by rubbing elbows with one another, so I am happy to see food and the visual arts doing just that at The Good Neighbours’ Fund Celebration.  Congratulations on your launch!  Having had significant support from my own community over my life, I am a firm believer in initiatives like this one.  There’s no better place to discover and
support talent than close to home. Very best of luck to you!"
LAURA CALDER
French Food at Home
Food Network, Canada

(Earlier related blog entries include:  Toronto Preview—Florence Biennale Exhibit, Yonge/St. Clair Innovation—The Good Neighbours’ Fund, and Why Canadian Talent Moves Away from Canada.)

Instead of giving a thank-you speech, I read the poem that follows—written especially for the event.  For those who weren’t able to make it to the event, and those who’d like to know more about it, I thought this was the best place to share what I said:

From Boston, to Toronto, to Florence—and Back?

Painting happily in Boston
An invitation arrived

Long live the Good Neighbors’ Fund
For whatever assistance it can provide
Nurture the dreams of other talented Canadians
that they stay in Canada
Not feel forced in other countries to reside.

Big thank you to Justin Skinner for his October 11 news piece in the City Centre Mirror today. Please click on the link to take you there http://www.insidetoronto.com/News/Centre/article/32066 or read text from it below:

NEW FUND SEEKS  HELP FROM GOOD NEIGHBOURS
Grassroots charity will support local artists
BY JUSTIN SKINNER
October 11, 2007 11:14 AM
 
When local artist Susan Makin was invited to enter some of her work in the prestigious Florence Biennale, an international arts competition, she was understandably thrilled. Her excitement turned to disappointment, however, when attempts to find funding to pay her way there came up dry.

For information on the fund, including how to make an additional donation, e-mail goodneighboursfund@gmail.com

Tonight’s the big night!  Our Yonge/St. Clair Good Neighbours’ Fund celebration/fundraiser is happening at Grano—on behalf of my Florence Biennale exhibit.  Please join us—from 7pm, 2035 Yonge Street.  Also, please check out the Florence Biennale website for updates about what will be happening in Italy in December.

There are many people to thank—and prizes and suprises.  Since this has been a real community/team effort, I wanted to list and acknowledge who’s been involved and how:

SPECIAL GUESTS
• Hon. Dr. Carolyn Bennett, MP for St. Paul’s
• Kim McBrien, New Director, Visual Arts Ontario
• Yonge/St. Clair neighbours and friends

SPECIAL THANKS
• Hon. Dr. Carolyn Bennett, MP:  suggesting such a celebration
• Roberto Martella:  hosting the celebration at Grano
• TD Waterhouse (Yonge/St. Clair Branch):  staff/logistical support
• The Town Crier:  making this a "local news story"
• Neighbours, friends, and businesses (Eglinton to Bloor and beyond):  publicity assistance
• Laura Calder, Food Network Canada for her terrific endorsement (for the Fund brochure)

SPECIAL DONATIONS
• Grano (2035 Yonge Street):  the venue and refreshments
• World Class Bakers (690 St. Clair Ave. W.):  refreshments
• $300 fund kick-off cheque:  an "anonymous friend"
• Pansies painting for silent auction: Susan Makin

DOOR AND RAFFLE PRIZES
• Alexia Von Beck (1228 Yonge St.)
• All The Best Fine Foods (1101 Yonge St.)
• Dimmi Bar and Trattoria (140 Cumberland St.)
• Home Hardware (1420 Yonge St.)
• Indoors and Out ( 2045 Yonge St.)
• Jivamukti Yoga (5 Shuter Street, 3rd floor)
• Laywine’s Pens and Organizers (25 Bellair St.)
• Petplan Insurance (Winnipeg, Manitoba)
• Picture Me (128 Cumberland St.)
• Printziples Fine Art (1470 Yonge St.)
• Spa - Nails (1244 Yonge St.)
• The Spice Room (55 Avenue Rd.)
• TDWaterhouse (Yonge/St. Clair Branch)

TALENT/EXPERTISE
• Product Photo,technical/practical support (productphoto.on.ca)
• Lindsay Goldman, photography
• Armor Media, product development (armormedia.com)
• Gary Wiseman, magic

TIME, ENERGY, AND PATIENCE
• Ryan and Sonia Shapiro, Armor Media
• David Bernstein, Product Photo
• The Good Neighbours’ Fund Executive
(Ryan Green, Graham Kennedy, Susan Makin,
Peter Paz, Danny Pivnick, Saverio Veltri)

 
Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon, it was a treat to attend Toronto’s 18th annual Word on the Street celebration.  Not only was it a picture perfect autumn day, but it was also exciting to pick up on the energy at Queen’s Park Circle—experience so many Torontians’ thirst for reading, learning, and communicating being quenched. 

I went home feeling refreshed and revived—an interesting contrast to the evening before when Nuit Blanche festivities had skimmed the same location.

Apart from the booths and readings, a variety of performers engaged the crowd, informally, a key ingredient I thought missing the evening before (or perhaps they’d been active in zones I hadn’t managed to cover).

Saturday afternoon, it was a pleasure to have been invited to "paint for a cause"—U Quest’s Urban Angels.  Sadly, billed "celebrity artists," like Vivian Reiss weren’t able to stick around.  But, alongside David Arathoon, I put brush to canvas for a good few hours—as did some official sponsors and a group of OCAD students.  Monte Kwinter opened the festivities, talking about his personal art education (coincidentally including a stint in Boston at the Art Institute) and contributed a series of red brush strokes.  

The 80 foot canvas in front of UrbanQuest’s town house development site will be cut up and auctioned to help raise money for arts and literacy programs for disenfranchised youth.  Vivienne Ziner is the mastermind behind the Uquest Vision, and she is gathering a growing list of corporate/institutional supporters, including Ecomedia, Whippersnapper Gallery, and Toronto Public Library.  Then there’s a list of individual donors, topped by Linda Frum.  This private initiative was definitely an "art in action" experience, and warmed my art-spirit.

 
Unfortunately, Saturday evening, afterwards, cooled my art-spirit.  Scotia Bank’s Nuit Blanche event ran from 7:03pm to sunrise, throughout downtown Toronto.  Mayor Miller, in the cover page of its substantial program-book announced, "In my first term as Mayor, I championed Toronto’s cultural renaissance by launching Nuit Blanche."  He then added, "Scotiabank Nuit Blanche allows our artists to showcase the cultural energy that sets our city apart from any other place in the world, and bolsters Toronto’s status as a city that honors its artists and creative communities."  

Well, everyone is entitled to their own opinion.  A policeman directing pedestrian traffic at Avenue and Bloor quipped, "If this was in London, or anywhere else in Europe, there’d actually be something to see."  It was easy to concur (having just returned from there).  The streets were full of crowds but art projects were scant (a few video installations jumped out here-and-there).  Where were the street performers and visual art monuments?  Instead, a mobile tap water van was parked outside the ROM advertising a City of Toronto’s positives.  However, the whole grand boulevard leading up to and through Queen’s Park was bereft of any real attractions.  U of T had something that looked like a fake fire happening—or maybe it was real (fire trucks and an ambulance arrived).  People lined up around the block on Cumberland, I was told for a "TTC sound installation," but where was the street music—the ambiance/the energy?  Regular street-level galleries were jammed, for a change.  Too bad they don’t get similar attention, year round.
 

"Live With Culture" banners have been hung throughout the city if you look up on street posts.  In "Zone A" (Yorkville through to Queens Park), fresh designs make pretty decorations. In Zone B, along Spadina (into China Town/Kensington Market) remnants from 2005/6 have been left (as they were).  From the numbers of participants out on the street, it’s clear they were seeking something—hopefully culture.  Or, was it just a chance to enjoy a balmy autumn evening with friends en plein air?  As someone who walks the walk (is impassioned to paint and write, day-in-day-out), I really wonder.  I think some were just there for the free Ritter Sport Chocolate being hurled into the crowd on Hazelton (across from the new Hazelton Hotel)—and related marketing photo-ops.

Mayor Miller’s Nuit Blanche program message concludes by thanking Scotia Bank and all other sponsors and partners for making this "’free all-night contemporary art thing" happen.  As I think about my own "free all-year contemporary art privilege" to represent Canada at the Florence Biennale without any support (financial, or otherwise—not even a returned e-mail), from Mayor Miller’s band of funders and associates, I can paint a completely different picture of culture/art in Toronto and hands-on support and respect for its emerging artists—a feeling of being better appreciated abroad than at home.

p.s.  Please check out Sarah Milory’s October 1, 07 Globe and Mail article, "A fun night at the art circus," for a more detailed account of Nuit Blanche—and suggestions for improvement.

Toronto—the Bigger Picture

Toronto’s a busy place this week with the Toronto Film Festival.  I walked through Yorkville Thursday evening (the first night) and was astonished by the crowds and hype.  Everyone was waiting for someone, but no one knew who…They just huddled around the barely-opened Hazelton Hotel, and Mark McEwan’s ONE restaurant—likely the best vantage point, as the newest and hottest spot in town.

Behind the Scenes—Community Support

It took five hours, yesterday, to hang my Florence Biennale preview exhibit at Grano.  A big thank you to a dear friend who helped me do this.  I don’t know what would have happened without this gift, or Roberto Martella’s (owner of Grano/arts aficionado) and his patient staff’s support.  

(a taste of the exhibit—no pun intended)

I truly appreciate Roberto’s generosity and endorsement of the exhibit.

The Hon Dr. Carolyn Bennett, MP’s personal involvement with the Biennale project has also been tremendous—reflected in her announcement in this fall’s St. Paul’s riding Parliamentary Report and Town Crier column, and despite an incredibly busy official schedule.

(an unofficial portrait sketch)

Irony and Truth—Personal Responses

After completing the Biennale collection, I imagined I’d feel a sense of accomplishment and relief.  The truth is I didn’t.  On the contrary!  Others may believe differently as they enjoy viewing such a cheerful body of work…

The artist’s journey demands strengths and resources beyond art-making.  Creating an international exhibit isn’t an easy or cheap task, physically, emotionally, or financially.  And, along the way, you learn about who can be counted on, as well the politics of where you live, and the kindnesses of strangers.  Confidence, faith, and feeling the product is worthwhile travel a bumpy road, regardless of how good self-esteem may be. The reactions and initiatives of others can be pivotal. 

At significant times in life—and the Biennale appears to be one of them (at least for me)—friends, acquaintances, peers, and strangers have chances to choose to play together (or not)…

The well is dry—temporarily!  Yes, believe it or not, I’m almost wordless…and exhausted.  Put the finishing touches on the last of my 20 Florence Biennale paintings yesterday, and took them to the photographer’s.  Next week, the whole collection should be online, as well as on exhibit in Toronto.  This will be the first holiday weekend of the summer (Labor Day!), when I’ll, (hopefully) be able to take a day off and relax—ride my bike and give the dogs longer walks.  With a new dog bicycle basket attached (since the beginning of the summer, and unused), I’m anxious to enjoy the great outdoors.  Remember, not only have I been in my studio 24/7, Lev and Sage have too—super-loyal studio assistants.  A lot’s going to be happening over the next few months, and I look forward to keeping you posted more regularly.

Peek in my studio to see beginnings, middles, and endings.  This poem, however, is about more than my artwork—even if it might have caused the thoughts behind the words…

 
Beginnings are good
There’s hope, adventure, anticipation—all that interesting stuff

Some spend longer in each phase
Some are luckier in one phase than another
Some learn from experience
Some never will.

A friend lured me from my studio yesterday evening with a ticket for Kooza.  What a gift!  

Both the winter and summer holidays seem to have passed me by (almost) while I remain(ed) in hibernation to complete the Biennale exhibit collection.

To sit in the "grand chapiteau" was a thrill and delight—gave me a chance to marvel at real performance artistry—so much talent, skill development, surprise, and wonder.  Memories of childhood and attending Billy Smart’s Circus in Liverpool!

From the three child gymnasts to the trapeze artists, to the unicycle couple, to the high wire quartet, to spinning wheelers, to the juggler, to the balancer, to the seesaw and stilt men, I was gasping and gulping.  Then, in between there was the stuffed dog—and I won’t tell you what he did…or about the fun audience participation opportunities with the clowns.

My Biennale creations feel small compared to what the Cirque’s performers accomplish night after night.  Humbled and energized, I’m ready to get back to my studio and approach the finale of the Biennale project with revived gusto.

Almost perfect was more than perfect for me—a real treat and reminder.  The (thankfully stopped) fall on the last stilt stunt drew attention to the fragility of everyone and thing and the life-saving importance of seamless teamwork and camaraderie.

Please don’t poach/steal DocSusan’s sharings.

My post, Painting and Perseverance, seems to be the most popular one on this blog (so far). Therefore, I’m sure many of you will identify with what I’m about to discuss…

My artwork (visual and written) takes hours to develop. That means, what’s posted here doesn’t come cheaply or painlessly. My time, effort, imagination, and resourcefulness have value. And, poachers know that, even if they claim ignorance and innocence.

This popular copyrighted image has been on tour—without permission or supervision. I’m delighted that it has a wider audience in a variety of locations like this one. But, credit needs to be given where credit is due—to its originator, MOI!

 
The wonder and dedication with which I created this painting will always be mine—part of its spirit, value, and specialness (perhaps why it appeals to so many others). Lazy others’ quick mouse clicks can’t be compared in any way—and don’t transfer ownership or authority over it.

This is a gentle reminder to respect the contents of the DocSusan website and blog. Please enjoy viewing them, and send links to others so they can enjoy them (directly) too. Please don’t simply click, drag and repost or reproduce, in your own or another’s name or anonymously. You will be found out—eventually!

If you like my images or written entries, please know better than to take without asking. It’s clearly stated throughout the website and blog that permission needs to be sought to (re)use them in any form. And, if it’s granted, you should give proper credit to the source—direct links to their originator and the DocSusan website and blog. This is only FAIR and reasonable.

Also, please remember that many of my creations are available for sale. Purchase requests are gladly received at blogs@docsusan.com.

THANK YOU for your understanding, cooperation, and support!

Let’s be realistic—and honest.  Standards are set very high these days by what we think is true, but actually isn’t.  Magazine touch-ups are an obvious way to recognize how what’s raw and real gets distorted and embellished. 

Lindsay Lohan is an over-played but obvious example. First, let’s take a look at her Elle (September 2007) cover photo, which is only the latest in a series of magazine cover photos.  Then, let’s take a look at her July 24 (07) police mug shot.  Show business would have her appear one way. The law clearly shows her another way…  

How has Lohan gone from that to this or this to that?  Is it fair to blame someone/thing else? Is it even fair to blame her, or her family, friends, and entourage? Is it our business, anyway? Not really—except if she’s a danger to others, which is highly likely with an arrest for drunk driving and cocaine possession.  But, then again, DUI, is no big deal these days—or so it seems for young celebrities.

Paris Hilton, after her promises to stop partying after her DUI jail time, was soon back to her frivolities. Then there’s her off-on "best friend," Nicole Richie, also up for DUI jail time.  Apparently, a boyfriend and pregnancy are the "two major influences" that will break the "bad ‘pattern’" in her life.  Imminent motherhood, she believes, will make her more responsible.  But, shouldn’t she be more responsible first, in order to merit being a mother?  A tad confusing! Or, maybe, not.  We’ve all heard about Britney Spears, and seen how she defends her motherhood foibles.

Sadly, in a society where decent role models don’t seem to get the news coverage they deserve and appropriate consequences are sorely lacking, anything seems to go and be acceptable.  No press is bad press, especially when it can generate $$$$$.

Some people are seen to have it all, and squander what they have.  Others have very little, but are genuine—turn out better human beings, no limelight necessary.

Why would we want to emulate images/icons that are contrived and fleeting—represent actualities that only exist on a glossy page, offering glimpses of what might never be possible or sustainable?

The "too good to be true" is around us everywhere.  Sometimes, we ignore it.  Other times, we’re ready to be taken in by it.  It all depends on how vulnerable (and/or gullible) we are. Self-esteem, need, greed, and fear can cloud judgment, as does peer pressure and bullying.  So, finding ways to keep things in perspective—not relying on perception being reality—is important. Be aware:

1.  Promises are only as good as those who make them.
2.  What happens quickly can unhappen more quickly.
3.  Even it’s free now, you’ll be paying for it later (and probably a lot more).
4.  The easier it is, the less value and longevity it might have.
5.  Telling the truth might get you into trouble.  Not telling it can get others into trouble.  And, when others are in trouble, you may no longer call the shots—they will.
6.  Just because you’re sure of yourself, it doesn’t mean others are sure of you.  And, when you’re sure of others, you might not be sure of yourself.

We all want to think the best, dream of a better tomorrow, and have hope for the future.  It’s a natural survival instinct!  However, what’s more important is to know where, how, and when to draw the line—not be taken in by ourselves, as well as others.  Regardless, we never know how long we have, or how forces beyond our control might change everything in an instant.  Take, for instance, the bridge collapse in Minnesota—a sad reminder and wake-up call, like most unexpected tragedies, to stop dwelling on the superficial (and those who are impressed by it).

When I write, it’s often to deal with challenging subjects.  Sorting them out on the page gives them voice and meaning.  My writing makes me (and others) think—dares to express what we don’t always want to hear or know and acknowledge. It’s raw and real, and gets to the heart of matters that can be far from funny. This doesn’t have to be seen as a bad thing.  Honestly, it takes courage!

When we put ourselves out there and share, positive happenings can follow.  Also, the opportunity to share is valuable in itself.  Usually, what’s important to one person, is to another. And, those who had no previous knowledge of what’s been revealed may have some "aha moments."

A Today Show concert series interview with Tom Higgenson (July 24, 07)  of Plain White T’s fame, focused on the group’s breakthrough number one hit of the summer, "Hey There Delilah" (from the album "Every Second Counts").  Higgenson explained that his song-writing changed after a car accident.  He’s come to realize, "The more personal that you get in what you write about, the more people have probably gone through those same things, so they can relate to it more…"
 
When I paint, it’s often to escape from and provide relief for the challenging times focused on in my writing—whether I realize it at the time, or not.  I have a natural inclination to create something that’s pleasing to the eye and change the mood (mine and others’)—picture things more optimistically.  Whimsy, bright colors, and pleasing subject matter drive me to new places, making others smile along the way.

Listening to "Hey There Delilah," I realize how words put to music can take the heaviness out of what’s being said, while still getting intended messages across.  I’m less able to do this because of the way I divide my words and visuals.  The words that I write are presented separately from the paintings that I paint (for now), offering two distinct impressions—and moods.  Though I, myself, realize I’m not just sad or happy at any one time, readers and audiences taking in one or other modality, by itself, might not recognize this. 

Life is a constant balancing act for most of us, something that makes finding and developing a variety of outlets for creative self-expression (that work separately or together) a natural instinct and survival mechanism.

A painting doesn’t work out every time.  So, how do you know when to give up and when to keep persevering?  What keeps me going?  And, what have I learned through trial and error?

My experiences have been to:

1.  Try, try and try again.  If you’ve tried your hardest, and still feel stuck, or are not getting anything else done, move on.  I usually put a two-week limit on such a process!

2.  Do things in small chunks.  Work on it.  Leave it.  Go back to it.  Bit by bit, changes happen, and hard work and patience pay off.  Some of my better pieces are an outcome of such a methodology!

3.  Never throw anything out right away.  If you don’t like how something’s going, leave it for a while.  Over time you may feel differently, and be prepared to go back to it—with fresh eyes and hand.  At a later stage, if you still see things the same way, you’ll be more justified in moving on.  Nevertheless, someone else might enjoy it, just the way it is!  There’s a gut instinct that’s hard to deny.  When I know something’s "wrong" for me, it usually is—even if it is not for somebody else…

4.  Take a break from certain subject-matter, then go back to it fresh.  For instance, if you’re painting onions, and they haven’t been turning out how you were hoping, take an onion break.  When you come back to them, don’t think of the piece you did before.  Start fresh, and you might be surprised with the results.  By doing this, I realize, I’ve guided myself, quite naturally, away from previous pit-falls, putting more effort into areas that were problematic before and learning and growing on the way.

5.  Recognize that not every piece can be a great one.  A rhythm and energy emerges over which we have no control.  It effects creative powers, technical skills, and imagination, alike.  Regardless of what others think and favor, we, ourselves, know when we’re "on," and when we’re not.  I’ve had to accept that I need to go a little easier on myself—that painting has a for-ever learning curve…

6.  Step back and see the story that artwork may tell over time.  When I’m down on myself—usually for being technically incapable, I look at my journey, and recognize what I couldn’t do before, wondering how I got from there to here.  Practice, practice, practice, and not giving up, despite the time and effort required, usually, are what get me to the place I’d like to be (even if others don’t recognize it—or see the marketability of my work).

7.  Remember there’s art and there’s ?art.  Many galleries and dealers are only interested in your work’s $$$$$ value, and will tell you that quite bluntly.  However, true artists, don’t just paint with sales in mind.  Their non-scientific brains won’t let them work that way.  I have come to hope that what I produce will find or create a market.  It’s what I know and can do, authentically, and anything else would be forced—probably not work out as others might like (at least for me).  

8.  Accept that art is more of a "business" than ever.  To "get there," it seems, you don’t just need to know how to paint, you need to be computer/internet/ marketing savvy, as well.  Some artists who appear to be more "successful" have teams of assistants behind them—able to put them out there/turn them into "brands"  with multi-media clout.  I do what I can as a one-woman operation, and ache when spending less time painting and more time on all the other "administrivia  necessities"…

9.  Marvel when a painting works, or surpasses expectations.  Being able to paint is a gift that not every one is able to develop to its full potential.  Be thankful for managing to fit in the time and application to be able to take the calling/talent as far as it can go.  I am truly grateful each time a piece comes anywhere close to meeting my unreasonable "standards."  Sometimes, I don’t realize it at the time, but others (positive) feedback often helps keep me going…

10. Know that we all have limits and options.  Not everyone makes the choice to try and paint/values the vocation.  Some shudder at even the thought of holding a brush.  Others announce, quite categorically, that an experience in elementary school has put them off for life.  It’s not good to always be making comparisons with other people.  But, sometimes, I realize that showing the courage to pursue painting is something many others shy away from—even before experiencing all the struggles entailed.  I know I need to pat myself on the back, more often, simply for not giving up!

Last week, I was surprised and thrilled to receive an e-mail from British publishing house, Jessica Kingsely, the publisher of my book, Therapeutic Art Directives and Resources:  Activities and Initiatives for Individuals and Groups.  This book came out in 2000, but appears to still be going strong.  Sigma Press, I was informed, are going to publish a Korean version shortly!

Curious about art therapy in Korea, I did a quick Google search.  In her May 07 bulletin, Paula Howie, President of the American Art Therapy Association, mentions having been keynote speaker for the Korean Academy of Clinical Art Therapy.  There are now thousands of art therapists in South Korea!  I also found a feature article in AsiaNews.it.

Did you know that, according to the Toronto Star newspaper, Dashan Mark Roswell is China’s best-known performer?  A weekly Star feature asks Canadian expatriates what it is like to live abroad, and invites readers to send in their own stories.  

Roswell was asked if he still sees the world through Canadian eyes.  He responded that he’s not sure  what "Canadian eyes" are. He admits that there are parts of his personality that have been shaped by China.  But, he is still as Canadian as he’s ever been. He thinks that one of Canada’s greatest assets is its lack of a strong national identity.  He stated, "I have no clearer idea of what it means to be a Canadian than anyone else…"

Just wondering:  Had Roswell remained in Canada to work, would his talents have developed in the same way?  Could he have had such a successful and original career in the arts here? 

Art-making (visual arts, music, dance, or writing) is a risky business.  Much is stolen before it ever gets out there.  Competitive, jealous, and sneaky others have no qualms putting their name to something that’s not theirs, and running to make money or gain from it in other ways. 

Sometimes, the true creator can take action.  Often, not.  Litigation costs money, time, and emotional energy.  Then, there’s the case that needs to be built, and loop holes that wrong-doers successfully identify and take advantage of…

The victory might be the thief’s in terms of securing the actual creation/idea stolen.  But, even if that person is very clever, he or she is unlikely to be able to replicate the true creator’s style, process, or thoughts.  There’s an essence/spirit that will never be anyone else’s, and this, ultimately, will be clear, somehow. 

Maybe thieves’ marketing/redevelopment skills will help procure cash/recognition rewards.  But, even then, they can’t give genuine meaning or authentic sparkle to what is and was never theirs. At the end of the day, they do know that, as do the real creators, and those familiar with them and their work…

p.s. Coincidentally, CARFAC Ontario’s Spring 07 newsletter (Vol 10, no. 1) has two articles that are well worth checking out, "Fair is Fair, (COPY) RIGHT?  Living Without Fear as an Appropriation Artist," and "VISUAL ART PHYSICAL PROPERTY, COPYRIGHT, AND MORAL RIGHTS, A Canadian Overview."

Entering competitions of any type has risk involved.  But, some demand more work than others.  Take, for example, the RBC Canadian Painting Competition, billed as "recognizing the talent of emerging professional visual artists in Canada. "

New artists can emerge at any age. But, most competitions, with such objectives, seem to focus attention on younger applicants.  They also seem to overlook that "courtesy e-rejections" of sorts could be sent to those who’ve put effort into applying (and making the competition stats look good).

After all, the written part of the RBC application does require considerable thought and writing time, if completed properly.  A number of images are required to be professionally painted, photographed, and transmitted, as well as explained—a process that can take about three months, when taken serously.

Not winning, in itself, doesn’t lead to "sour grapes." It’s just nice to feel like you’re worth more than a number!  On application, one is shot back at you, and that’s the last you hear from the organization.  Even if you send follow-up/inquiry e-malls, which are supposed to be permissible, they don’t respond. 

The acknowledgment with number allocation simply says, "Artists who are being seriously considered will be contacted between June 1-15, 2007 for additional inquiries; artists have 48 hours to respond back otherwise they will be removed from the consideration list. Once the 15 semi-finalists are announced on June 29, 2007, all other works are released."  

On July 9, the long silence ended, for anyone who had gone to the trouble of applying and was wondering what was happening (perhaps they were contacted and didn’t know about it…) The announcement didn’t come from RBC, but in an Akimbo special mailing—a coincidental finding for subscribers who might also have been applicants.  

Akimbo relayed that more than 1400 works had been entered by 690 artists. It also included this commentary:  "RBC applauds all of the semi-finalists named today for their artistic talent and achievements," said Gay Mitchell, executive vice-president, RBC. "We are pleased to encourage and support Canada’s emerging artists and hope the exposure they receive as a result of being short-listed as well as having a forum to display their work will provide them with exciting opportunities to advance their careers."

RBC, not having communicated, personally, in any way, with the 675 non-finalists, might have liked to take the announcement opportunity to add, "A big ‘thank you!’ to all other participants—we encourage them to keep on painting!"  But, they didn’t…

Do you have something you’d like to tell someone, but find it difficult to do so?

Sometimes, saying it in verse, and/or with a doodle, can soften things up a little, and enable you to share what you need to.  You might like to give it a try!  But, remember, less can be more…

THE COURAGE TO SPEAK UP

 
Some think it, but don’t say it
Others say it, but don’t think it
 
Some care too much about what others think
Others don’t care at all
 
We can only be who we are
Trying to be who we’re not confuses a lot
 
Life is tough—some put on a brave face
Life is tough—others show they’ve had enough
 
Be yourself, and let yourself be
Risk saying and doing what you need to (within reason)
 
For everything there is a season
A time to reveal, a time to conceal
 
Those unable to respond may lack the courage required
Putting others down for their efforts is not to be admired.

Many artists won’t reveal "trade secrets."  Others, like myself, see this as essential to the job—a way of generating excitement about the powers of creativity, educating others, and learning along the way…  

I do hope the tips, techniques, and examples my DocSusan blog and website can  share will encourage you to pick up your own brushes and experiment and/or better appreciate individual artists whose work you admire.  

Generally, each painting I do goes through a minimum of eight stages

When a still life/model is involved, I usually:

1. Find or decide on the subject matter, including shopping for it.
2. Decide on size, scale, and media.
3. Arrange the subject matter.
4. Organize the easel/palette/model set-up.
5. Prepare hanging hardware suitable to the media (and attach it).
6. Paint the subject matter, in layers:  under-painting, mid-painting, final painting—and all stages in between.
7. Glaze the painting.
8. Paint around the painting’s edges in acrylic, by color-matching from the oil painting.

The whole production process is usually a six - eight week process, from start to finish for 24in x 24in whimsical works (stages five - eight taking three of those weeks).  Larger pieces take me significantly longer to produce.

When I’m working on a series, I often have three pieces on the go at once—each at a different stage.

For larger abstract pieces, I usually:

1. Come up with a concept, color scheme, or style as a "jumping off point."
2. Decide on size, scale, and media.
3. Consider the colors and applications with which I might want to begin.
4. Organize the easel/palette/room set-up—especially if I’m working on several pieces at once and want to give them each similar treatment.
5. Prepare hanging hardware suitable to the media (and attach it).
6. Paint  in layers:  under-painting, mid-painting, final painting—and all stages in between.
7. Glaze the painting.
8. Paint around the painting’s edges in acrylic, by color-matching from the oil painting.

The whole production process can take months, allowing for spontaneity, randomness, and surprises.  Also, I don’t like to waste paint, and this type of work provides me one way to use up paint left over on my palette from other (non-absract) pieces.

Depending on the size of the pieces, I can have up to a dozen works on the go at once—each at the same stage.

For series of paintings, I usually:

1.  Consider the bigger whole before the individual parts.
2.  Work on each individual part as though it is an only part.
3.  (Re)arrange the individual pieces that make up the greater whole  in Photoshop.

The media I use:

1.  The oil-based colors come straight out of the tube, no medium added—except odorless Turpenoid by Weber, when necessary.
2.  Once the painting is dry, a layer of Liquin Fine Details by Winsor and Newton brushed over the top.
3.  Turpenoid Naturals my brush cleaner of choice (also by Weber).

PLEASE NOTE, retailers selling Weber products are quite hard to find in the Toronto area…  And "flammables" can’t be shipped across the border by Dick Blick, my (US) art supply retailer of choice.  Above Ground is my art supply retailer of choice in Toronto, but their product range and special order possibilities are more limited.

My Florence Biennale fundraising scramble continues… This leaves me little time for painting, which is what I really should be doing—why I’ve only completed 11 out of 20 pieces, so far.  Therefore, quite aptly, I’m spending my Canada Day Weekend painting for Canada.

As this blog might reveal, I’m not lazy and don’t take short-cuts.  Regardless, drumming up funding for the privilege of representing Canada at the Florence Biennale, December 07, has had me stumped—even after 10 months of constant efforts.  I’ve been refused/not responded to by government agencies and business, alike.  There’s been a variety of excuses—from not meeting "eligibility requirements" to explanations of priorities being otherwise (with causes/groups that can give better pr/advertising returns).

Enervated as I am, I’m not going to give up the Biennale invitation, or have the paintings I’ve committed to create suffer.  Everything, I’m convinced, happens for a reason.  And, eventually, the purpose of/answer for such struggles might be clear.  Already, I’ve had a learning experience, and plenty of time to reflect on Canada—how/why/what works here (or doesn’t)…  In the meantime, surrounding myself with my paintings, which usually turn out cheerful no matter how I’m feeling, will help me keep things in perspective—remember what’s really important.

Start the work week by saying, doing, and thinking nice things and you’ll feel much better.  Sure, bad things (and people) happen, but if you fester over them unnecessarily you’ll stay stuck in a mode that’s counterproductive.  If you smile, others are more likely to smile back.  If you frown, you will get a different response—possibly making things worse…

re. Surroundings:  Keep them as upbeat as possible and your mood will be similar.

re. Health and Nutrition:  Stay informed and make wise choices—you’re important too!

re. Relationships:  Favor harmony over confrontation and reconciliation over isolation.

re. Activities:  Proceed like everything is going to work out, and your journeys will be easier, whatever their destinations/results.

Don’t put yourself, or others, down and welcome and encourage compliments!  By setting yourself, and others, up for feeling better/successful we’ll all be in more agreable mind-sets to cope with disappointments should they occur.  Bouncing back repeatedly is hard, but that’s what most of us have to do.  Some people just make things look easier…

 
An "emerging artist" who paints professionally, full-time, can have a very isolating existence. This year, having decided to devote most of my time to prepare for the Biennale exhibit, I admit to being a little stressed.  When I’m not painting, I’m trying to raise sponsorship funds, and left and right brain don’t always work well together!

When time is limited and exhaustion and lack of self-confidence take over, I’m happy for a few remedies.  First, there’s caninekind.  Studio assistant Poodle Pals, Lev and Sage, witness every up and down, make me laugh, and insist on going for walks. Second, there’s the company of others who can relate and understand. Last Tuesday (May 29, 07), I attended a Portrait Society of Canada master workshop on the ala prima style of painting led by Juan Carlos Martinez at Toronto’s Arts and Letters Club studio. Veronica Tsyglan, the society’s president supervised.  Between Veronica’s exemplary organization and Juan’s unobtrusive mentorship, the experience was a revitalizing and relaxing treat—just the tonic I needed.

On a day when I thought I wouldn’t be able to paint (was "painted out"), and decided to experiment with less familiar materials, techniques, and angles, I was able to create a portrait sketch that pleased and surprised me.  It’s 12in x 9in, oil on wooden board with a black gessoed base (and posted at the start of this blog entry).  I call it "Waiting."  When you’re an artist, there’s a lot of waiting and uncertainty.  Each competition and grant you apply for has you on hold—wondering, hoping, and feeling a tad anxious, especially if you’ve had to pay an application fee and might never receive a response.

Even when painting others, there’s usually a self-portrait of sorts that shines through somehow—"art therapy" happens. Being among other artists and watching their paintings develop, as well as having reassuring and kind experts on hand, was a gift.  After the workshop, I came home and painted again—invigorated from the experience.  I was happy to feel part of a group of professionals that value the artistic vocation—as well as the skill, perseverance, and camaraderie it takes to keep going.

This coming weekend (May 5th and 6th, 07), I’ll be missing Grub Street’s annual conference, the "Muse and the Maketplace," for the first time.  Now, in its 6th year, it’s been billed as the best one yet, a stellar list of authors, editors, and agents presenting and consulting.  During the four years that I lived in Boston, I experienced Grub going from strength to strength, providing both veteran and novice writers opportunities to grow and network through night school and weekend classes, as well as special events.

There is no organization in Toronto—formal or informal—that compares to Grub.  In fact, I’m certain, there’s nothing like it in any other North American city.  Grub has a totally unique ambiance and programs. And, as it has evolved, it’s become a vital part of Boston’s arts and cultural scene.  Also, since relocating to offices that overlook Boston Common, it’s at the center of everything—a true asset to the city, as well as neighboring communities.

When I attend a conference I’ve come to look forward to the unexpected. Some of the most profound learning experiences evolve from chance remarks or unanticipated conclusions, rather than what’s highlighted on the program.  This year’s ASJA weekend,"Making Your Writing Dreams Come True" (April 20 - 22) proved no exception.  Here are some details that struck me:

1.  A book on the Barnes and Noble display table entitled:  How To Move To Canada.  A Primer for Americans.

2.  The Idea Marketplace’s best exhibit:  City of Philadelphia.  They know how to not have you forget them with all their freebies, which included the notebook in which I recorded the information for this blog piece.  Inside the cover, it gave the blog address, uwishuno.com, promoting a blog written by "genuine Philadelphians."

3.  An agent’s most disappointing confession came from Adam Chromy, founder of Artists and Artisans.  What an author wants, as explained in proposals submitted to him, isn’t Chromy’s concern:  "I don’t care what you want," he states, "I want to make money!"  Other panelists and audience members responded, "The truth comes out…"  Chromy also insisted that the book, itself, isn’t the "business engine" for clients making money any longer.  More can be gained from speaking engagements and web-related activities and products.

4.  An agent’s most honest confession came from Ken Wright, from Writers’ House:  He said, "I love this.  This is exactly the kind of book that I love…"  Subjective endorsements are obvious when agents aren’t just looking to make a quick buck.  They truly feel a connection with what they’re representing, representing it because they can do so with genuine passion.

5.  A writer’s most powerful development tool—the blog—was overviewed to advantage by Bill Dyszel, author of Microsoft Outlook for Dummies and more.  He explained how blogs provide a new "business model for writers" where you get to be your own publisher (despite the risks that might be involved).  He also highlighted how the public seems to put more credence in a blog than professional media, today.  Blogs can be considered more inviting because of their more personal tone.  It’s like they’re put out by "friends."

6.  The most progressive marketing strategy for publishing houses came from Penguin’s Matt Boyd, who revealed his work behind the scenes to promote their authors and books, with little to no cost.  Penguin uses every possible web aid, from creating websites and blogs to My Space profiles and beyond.  The greater the free buzz on line, the better the sales and profits off-line!

7.  A gracious and courageous keynote speaker, Jeanette Walls, author of The Glass Castle.  A Memoir reinforced what’s long-overdue for being put out there  (exposed, questioned, and accepted):

Re. truth:
• "There’s the facts, and then there’s the deeper truth."
• "What is your truth, and how do you choose to say it?"
• "’The truth shall set you free.’"

Re. "you":
• "You don’t know what you would do or be like in different circumstances."
• "The things we think are our flaws might ace up the hole."
• "Face your deamons."

Re. other people:
• "You can control yourself and your life, but you can’t change other people."
• "Don’t underestimate yourself, or other people."
• "In writing about yourself, you make the tough decision to write about other people.

She also drew attention to a Talmudic quote:  "’When the heart speaks, the heart listens.’"

8.  A children’s book writing’s guru was born.  Liza Burby publicized her new book, How to Publish Your Children’s Book:  A Complete Guide to Making the Right Publisher Say Yes, and announced that she’ll soon have a website too.

The best take-home gift of the conference came from the acclaimed author/agent/editor Terry Whalin.  His very generous and comprehensive blog and websites are invaluable, for prospective and veteran writers alike.  Check out http://terrywhalin.blogspot.com/ and http://www.right-writing.com/ and you’ll agree.

For anyone hoping to get published, and do it the right way, the ASJA conference provides a potpourri of learning opportunities and connections for everyone—novice to expert.  And then there’s the back-drop on New York City—the publishing industry’s mecca and a fine place to visit as spring fever hits…

June, 2006, I went on safari—an opportunity of a lifetime. While the camera clicked, so did my mind. I’d not "wordscaped" (escaped with words/written poems) since my book, Poetic Wisdom: Revealing and Healing (1998). But, patrolling the bush by jeep, the urge returned full force. I saw no other way to jot down experiences of the moment, treasures not to be forgotten. Though I took too long to type up these poetic souvenirs after the trip ended, the delay has had advantages.

On review, this poetry puts me back in the moment—that moment—which seems to stand the test of time. Now, I’m curious to know others’ responses to it.  My first group of poems, written in Bostswana, were posted in this blog’s February 6, 2007 entry. My second group of poems were created in Zambia and appear below, in this entry.

1. Victoria Falls

A perfect moment to savor
A life changing experience, and more.
 
2. Spunky Monkey

3. And Then There Were Seven

Seven zebras that is

Then, on the the last day at the last hour
It comes perchance
Off to the side, the beautiful one sits down
What a picture, what a memory
What a moment
To treasure. 

p.s.  For more recent African Poetry, please check out blog entries about DocSusan’s Kilimanjaro Cimb (9 poems) and Tanzania Safari (16 poems).  The two new series were started December 2, 2007. 

Painters and writers must love what they do in order to stick with it as more than a hobby.  Not only do they need to prepare themselves in special ways, they also have to realize that luck and timing aren’t always favorable.  Then there are the "supports" who might not be as trustworthy as imagined.  

Certain realities are difficult to live with, but here they are:

Painters and writers need to be prepared

1.  To handle rejection, over and over and over again.

2.  To pay fees for workshops, associations, competitions, and mailings that might not bear fruit.

3.  To start each new project with excitement, even if the chances of  having it recognized are slim to none.

4.  To spend a lot of alone time to engage fully in the creative process and reap maximum benefit.

5.  To realize that skill, technique, and talent all need to be honed.  While some people get lucky breaks early on, most are plodders.

6.  To accept that if they don’t succeed in public, they shouldn’t give up in private.  Sometimes the act of creating is rewarding in itself.  It is nice to be recognized and appreciated, but that doesn’t always happen, and we can’t be hard on ourselves because of this.

Painters and writers need luck and timing as much as (and more than) hard work and talent

1.  Many painters and writers are famous posthumously, no matter the lengths they go to in their lifetimes.

2.  Networking matters, as much as (and more so) than in any other industry.

3.  The world is changing and so are standards and trends in painting and writing, and everyone needs to stay current with what’s out there, even if it’s a genre that’s unfamiliar.

4.  Intellectual property is precious, and ideas get stolen all the time.  Be careful in choosing those with whom to share personal projects.  The less said the better.

5.  Even if ideas (and entire projects) get stolen, they won’t be realized in the same way as the originator of those ideas intended.  Authenticity and drive are essential to any creative work, as well as the need to be passionate about what’s being created.  Copycats have their limitations, especially if financial gain  and short-cuts are their chief goals.

6.  Come back to something later, but don’t give up.  It’s good to put things away and then look at them with fresh eyes.  Just as an individual and her thoughts might change, so too does the world and its markets.

The Best Supports

Those who have pure intentions—don’t need to manipulate and use circumstances for their own gain.  They include:
 
• Individuals who believe in you, see your industry, and have faith in what you’re trying to accomplish—like (some) family and friends.

• Peers that are in similar circumstances, but not part of any formal group—those who’ve been there, or are there, too.

Questionable Supports

Those who might have their own agendas and protocols, and the artist or writer’s (best) interests might be different than theirs. They include:
 
• Professional and peer associations (that charge a fee).  

• Government agencies and representatives.

• "Helpers"  (that you pay), like coaches, therapists, editors, and teachers.

Agreements Only Go So Far

No matter what’s declared orally, or signed and sealed on paper, most things manage to be open to interpretation.  At the end of the day, all parties, directly involved (or not), know what’s right.  However, not everyone has a conscience.  Some can live with deception (and themselves) better than others.  Writers and painters are vulnerable and will risk a lot to have their work recognized.  However, they should never jeopardize their finances, integrity, spirit, or self-confidence in the process.

Agents, Editors, and Jurors Do Make Mistakes (Intentionally and Not)

They’re only human. Even if  they’re in a "power position" they might not act fairly or honestly.  Instead, they might exercise opinions, biases, and short-cuts that highlight their deficiencies.  Some are better at hiding this than others.  But, should there be a hint that someone might not be an equitable and straight-shooting business ally, move on.  Don’t push to make them like or endorse you or your creation.  Momentary gain might lead to long-term pain.

Getting Published—Different Vantage Points

At Harvard Medical School’s Continuing Education Program, "Publishing Memoirs and Other Creative Nonfiction," (reviewed in my March 20, 07 blog entry) several experts shared details about their own publishing experiences.  A few are included here:

• Julie Silver (author and publishing authority)

Julie is an MD and many-time author, a very determined  individual.  She said that growing up she had to play every sport and get "straight ‘A’s" to stay a member of her family.  That is why I found what she shared about her experience with her former agent (Kristin Wainwright) disconcerting.  Allegedly, Wainwright (who Silver says is now "out of business") stole all her money.  However, Silver’s decided not to prosecute, her reason being that if she puts time into that, she won’t be able to help others publish—something that’s a lot more positive.

• Linda Konner (Julie Silver’s new literary agent)

Linda, a bold New York City agent, acknowledged the benefits of authors going to a publisher first, then handing a book deal to a literary agent to take over the finalities—the agent can be "saved a lot of work."  She also pointed out how pubishers love authors who have connections with drug companies.  She admitted, that sounds "kind of crass," but explained how drug companies will sometimes commit to 5,000 - 10,000 half price book copies, which might have a personalized book cover too.

• Julia Fox Garrison (self-published author, and bestseller)

Julia is a courageous stroke survivor who confessed to having spent $60,000 during her personal publication process.  She didn’t take short-cuts and worked around her disabilities.  Then, ultimately, her book, retitled Don’t Leave Me This Way, was taken over by Harper Collins who republished it—after 21 publishers made bids at auction.

People often ask if I have background entertainment while painting.  I’ve tried listening to educational CDs, so that I can multi-task on the job.  But, this really doesn’t work.  When I’m painting, I really need to be totally there, in the process, not distracted.  But, if I do have any accompaniment, it’s television.  Occasionally, when I’m open to drifting, I’ll learn snippets of information, or be able to phase in and out of a very slow plot.  Here are some of the shows that play in my area on weekdays, and my discoveries about them:

The Today Show (7 - 10 am)
There’s usually something interesting to pick up here.  It’s like a "university of popular culture,"  and my ears prick up when topical issues are featured.  It’s one of those shows that surprises us by trying to to include items that are timely and engaging for most viewers.

Rachel Ray (10 - 11 am)
An amazing array of guests and ideas.  Cudos to someone who’s been able to keep her finger in so many pies without getting burned (no pun intended). 

Martha (11-12 noon)
Despite her talents and more fine-tuned delivery style, her history and need for power and control sometimes have her appearing to upstage her guests.  

The View (11 - 12 noon)
Must confess, I got turned onto this show during the Rosie/Donald fiasco. You can’t help noticing how everyone talks at the same time, with Joy, Barbara, and Rosie being an animated and engaging combination. Elisabeth, so far, doesn’t impact me in the same way.  Interesting how her role on Survivor might have got her there!

America’s Funniest Home Videos (12 noon)
Short, sweet, and funny—a real "pick-me up."  Basic slap-stick style humor that’s harmless and brings a smile to your face.

Extra (12:30 - 1 pm)
(This show can be easily confused with Entertainment Tonight or the The Insider.) Celebrity gossip that reveals interesting priorities, encouraging us to forget the mundane and what might really be news-essential in the wider world.  Sheer distraction and entertainment.

Days of Our Lives (1 - 2 pm)
The slowest plot, so you can miss it for days or weeks and still catch up.  Some of the scenarios are so ridiculous, you can’t help wanting to know more.  Some of the sex scenes are astonishing for daytime TV.  The hour passes very quickly.

Passions (2 - 3 pm)
Just like Days of Our Lives.
(The slowest plot, so you can miss it for days or weeks and still catch up.  Some of the scenarios are so ridiculous you can’t help wanting to know more.  Some of the sex scenes are astonishing for daytime TV. The hour passes very quickly.)

Dr. Phil (3 - 4 pm)
This is when I have a snack or turn off the TV.  This guy can’t know better about everything—can he?  Not only does he appear to challenge the bounds of traditional (and safe) psychotherapy, he also seems to enjoy some Jerry Springer-like sensationalism—and personal language that doesn’t always set the best example.

Ellen (4 - 5 pm)
Always a breath of fresh air.  Fun, cute, and engaging, you can’t help but love Ellen—how she includes her regular viewers in any way possible and is genuinely into what she’s featuring.  If Ellen isn’t an authority on something, she’ll do her best to learn new skills and make sure that her viewers have the opportunity to do so too.  There’s only one Ellen!

Physicians and other suitably credentialed healthcare professionals are advantaged in a variety of ways. Their specialized knowledge and aspirations to get ahead give access to educational opportunities others might not have, such as Harvard Medical School Continuing Education Programs.  Julie K. Silver’s "Publishing Books, Memoirs and Other Creative Nonfiction" (March 15 - 17, 2007) is a significant example.  

Over the years, I’ve been to a variety of conferences, courses, and workshops put on by bodies more specifically geared to writers and their craft.  These include:  ASJA (American Society of Journalists and Authors), Boston Center for Adult Education, Cambridge Center for Adult Education, Grub Street (Boston writers’ group), International Women’s Writing Guild, National Writers’ Union, and Harvard’s Nieman Program (for narrative journalism).

I was aware from Silver’s introduction that this Harvard educational and networking opportunity would be a little different than those provided by these others.  Early on, she drew attention to 10 interesting points:

1.  As a "health expert" it’s perfectly okay for someone else to write your book and you still be the primary author—so long as the ideas included are yours.

(Note:  This doesn’t just happen with  "health experts." Many others, with the funds or power position, let others do the grunt work while they get the recognition.)

2.  Publishing is a field to be respected on its own, where you can expect rejection, editing, "egos," and having to meet deadlines—publishers/editors have really "big egos" and they don’t like authors with "egos."

(Note:  Should "health experts" expect different "ground rules"?  Publishing and its protocols is just as significant as medicine and its protocols.  Being an expert in one area, doesn’t guarantee you’ll be an expert in another. Writing is more than just a "delivery mode"—it’s an art.  And art, not unlike medicine, requires practice, perseverance, creativity, and education.  Not everyone’s a "natural.")

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