Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Fast away the old year passes...


Hail the new, ye lads and lasses! Falalala-la...

It's turnaround time, when the wheel of the year ticks over to 1 again. After the Solstice on Monday, the days will start getting longer again. Christmas renews and refreshes our relationships. And on New Year's night, the winter constellations will begin to yield to the stars of spring, and we will all embark on a new path forward.

I guess I'm an optimist underneath it all (way underneath), because, while I often look back on the old year frustrated at things I did not accomplish, I always look forward to the new year, eager to get crackin' on those goals.

Good omens are rising. My newspaper horoscopes have been encouraging. Obstacles are resolving themselves spontaneously (the rare and precious "it'll all work out" effect). The design process has been slow but productive. My favorite holiday gift so far is an unexpected vacation from Christmas to after New Year's, time I can spend rebuilding my studio and working like a mad thing. Hooray for a day job at a university where, apparently, they have this magic thing called "intersession" which is a break in the middle of winter! Who saw that coming, eh?

So, I look forward to starting 2010 with a new studio, new art, new stationery, and a game or toy. I might even do a little writing, if I can. Time -- the most precious thing in the world, and I just got some as a present from strangers. Joy!

So...I wish you all joyous holidays and a happy and prosperous new year. Let's have faith in life and the universe, see beauty where we look, and find what really makes us happy.

'Tis the season to be jolly...

Snowy trees outside my studio

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

By the Way...

It's winter. Maybe you heard. Someone up in the sky flipped the switch, and Massachusetts went from record highs near 70 degrees to this:




The view from my studio.







Over night. Joy.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

The Arting Life: On Being Open

Last month, the Brickbottom Artists Association. of which I am a member, held their annual Open Studios event, in conjunction with Joy Street Studios, just up the street. As always, it was a swingin' shindig with two days worth of free art for the viewing and buying, artists to meet and greet, demos, classes, and performances.

Astrophysicist Jonathan McDowell documented the event for us. The photos in this piece are by him. Thank, Jon! *wave* Congratulations to all the participating artists on another stellar November.

I did not show this year at Open Studios. I'll try to act cool about it. Not showing gave me the chance to tour and connect with my colleagues, which I don't get to do when I am showing. Watching from the sidelines made me realize that, like everything else in life, there are tricks to getting the most out of events like this.

Open studios events are great markets where fans of art can buy original works direct from the artists who make them, sometimes at a discount. Many artists rely on open studios events for direct sales. Most of my own sales since moving to Massachusetts have been through such events. But the art market is unstable, with people sometimes eager to buy something special and, other times, reluctant to commit. Also, some artists are better suited to this kind of exhibiting than others.

As Laurence Sterne put it, "Each man will report the fair as his own market has gone in it." The contrast between good years and bad years, between artists whose work moves and others who make few sales, is, I think, why there is constant debate among artists about whether events like open studios are worth the cost of participating in them. It is all too common for an artist to lose money on open studios.


I say open studios are absolutely worth the cost, time and effort, and every working artist should do them at least once in a while. But not necessarily for making sales. Rather, I, and many others, see open studios events as prime marketing moments. It's my belief that nobody can sell an artist better than the artist him- or herself. People like to meet artists, to talk to the people behind the works. They like to see the process in action, via demonstrations, presentations, classes. If there is something interactive they can participate in, even better.

I learned that while working a couple of summers at Shelburne Museum in Vermont. It was one thing to stand around the galleries and wait for someone to ask a question. It was a whole different game to staff the demonstration buildings and spend the day doing blacksmithing and weaving and running the printing presses, giving away souvenir s-hooks and nails, or picking some embarrassed but eager kid to play the printer's devil and help run the hand press, or let some amazed visitor try their hand at spinning and gasp at the thread coming out of their fingers though they couldn't figure out how it was happening.

The flow of visitors through the exhibition galleries tended to be pretty constant from what I saw, but one senior staffer told me that a good demonstrator at one of the interactive buildings could create a bottleneck of visitors lingering in the site for thirty to forty minutes, with good retention of what they saw and did there.

I do the Brickbottom Open Studios for the chance to connect with the public and put my name in their minds, my card in their pockets, their names on my email list.

Being big at Pauline Lim's place.

I try to run my space like one of the demonstration buildings at the museum, with plenty to look at, plenty to buy, and, most important of all, something fun to do. I'll present an interactive art installation, or I'll make the art I am offering for sale right there in front of the visitors.

This past November, the artists who did that sort of thing seemed to have the most interested and attentive crowds in their spaces. The portrait artist who had a model sitting during the open hours. The glass makers who gave demos and tutorials. The photographers who told the stories of their images and explained their processes (and who had to give those in-depth presentations over and over during the two-day event).

Machine sculptor Gina Kamentsky, who filled her space with her wind-up and motorized objects and would set them in motion all around her visitors.

Gina Kamentsky winds up her
mechanial confections for a visitor.


Calligrapher and graphic artist Pier Gustafson demonstrating his art by gorgeously dashing off visitors names on souvenir envelopes -- I wished I'd had a freshly forged s-hook to trade with him.



Magician Pier Gustafson
makes me seem elegant.



I will be doing the Brickbottom's Open Studios next year. I'm looking forward to inventing an amazing new project for people to play with, one that will put my card in their pockets, their names on my email list, and maybe even prompt enough sales to pay for the weekend. But with or without sales, open studios events are money well spent for an artist's career.

-- Jen

Monday, December 7, 2009

Scrolls!

Finally, the Exquisite Corpse scrolls are finished. Behold!


The idea is that you use the scrolls to play the game, folding the sheet as you go along. When your Exquisite Corpse is finished, you display and admire your group creativity. Then roll up the scroll, tag it with a printed form tag listing the participants and other information, and then keep it, give it as a gift to some lucky other party, squirrel it away in a bank or time capsule, etc., as you see fit.

They can be used for other things, too. Art. Poetry. Short stories (short enough to fit into the 6 inch by 23 inch size). Letters. Magic spells and invocations of personal gods. And so forth.

I'm rather pleased with them, if I do say so myself. They look spiffing in a glass on a desk. A drawer filled with them would be a pleasantly intriguing mystery, I'm sure.