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.

"Who is George Marcelovitch?" -
one of my past BAA Open Studios participatory projects.

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

The Arting Life: Experiencing Technical Difficulties

Just a quick mini-rant.

I'm working on my Ghosts experiments, and these little things happen that just interfere with my work. They have nothing to do with my work. They have no justification for even being in my reality, let alone interfering with my work. They are the products of some nameless, faceless Idiot thinking they know how to do something -- anything -- right. And they just screw up what should be the simplest things and send my blood pressure skyrocketing.

Things like these affect us all, and all our blood pressure readings, every day in the modern world.

Today's culprits are:

1. Hewlett Packard, whose Photosmart C3180 All-in-One Printer/Copier/Scanner is, apparently, tragically blind. Yes, I realize it's an old model. It seems, as it ages, the vision is the first thing to go (though actually, it has always been a pain). I just spent two hours trying to scan a piece of blotted writing to show an example of paper effects, and this insane old box of wires and plastic bits has given me images of only half the blot or of the blank paper next to it, ten times so far. I'm close to introducing this "smart" appliance to Mr. Hammer, who, simple though he is, truly understands the concept of frustration.

And

2. Staples, whose store at Harvard Square, Cambridge, Mass., sells fountain pen ink but not the fountain pens that go with it. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over? Seriously? Really? I asked the poor slob who worked there why, in that case, they bothered to stock erasers to go with the pencils or envelopes for the stationery. I think he was only pretending to understand what I meant.

Scanners that cannot scan. Shops that sell ink with no pen to put it in. How happen such things? Easily. We live in a stupid, stupid world. A world where the makers of scanners think a machine that can get confused qualifies as advanced. A world where it never occurs to the buyer of a stationery store that people who buy ink cartridges might also buy a pen to put them in. A world where so many of the people who make things, sell things, provide us with things, never actually use those things themselves and nor have any idea how they are supposed to work.

If you want to know why I'm trying to start my own publishing company with which I can produce my own books, stationery and other items, this is your answer, right here:

You want a job done right, do it your-freakin'-self.

Hopefully, today's Ghosts update post will be ready this weekend. (I'm so annoyed.)